The Woodstock Town Hall stands in an earthy red, a shade closer to clay than flame. Its walls carry the grounded warmth of soil after rain, solid and unpretentious, yet still dignified. Across the road, the green of the park softens its edges, while the neighboring library lends a quiet balance. In this setting, the hall’s brownish-red façade feels rooted, as though it has grown from the ground itself, anchoring the street with its steady presence. In the afternoon light, the color deepens to a russet glow, reminding passersby of the history held within its walls and the community that continues to gather at its doors.
