Rosslyn Redux

Tag: 19th Century

  • Midpoint Milestone: 6 Months Down, 6 Months to Go

    Midpoint Milestone: 6 Months Down, 6 Months to Go

    Midpoint Milestone (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Midpoint Milestone (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Yesterday was a meaningful midpoint milestone in my quest to post a Rosslyn update every day without fail for an entire year. 

    Six months, 26+ weeks, 184 days. One new installment every 24-hours without fail. Rhapsodizing Rosslyn, celebrating our team’s accomplishments, soapboxing historic rehab and adaptive reuse, showcasing seasonality snapshots and historic Essex memorabilia, weaving in some hyperlocal haiku and place-based poetry, illuminating the mercurial transition / transformation we’re currently navigating, and sharing boathouse and icehouse updates, intriguing artifacts, and wildlife observations. 

    Call it a 184-day streak. Or call it dogged determination. Either way I have 181 days to go until I reach my goal. And with each new post, each small victory, I am growing more and more confident that I will accomplish my mission of 365 posts, one complete year of daily updates beginning on August 1, 2022 and concluding on July 31, 2023. 

    So how to commemorate this midpoint milestone? With 6 months down and 6 months to go, it feels momentous enough to pause and praise my good fortune. But should this benchmark be acknowledged with a celebratory salute? A solemn ceremony? A toast, my first spirited sip after 31 days of teetotaling? (Yesterday marked the conclusion of my 7th or 8th, maybe even my 9th “dry January”.) Or perhaps a decadent dessert after a sugar free month? (For some sadomasochistic reason I’ve decided in recent years to add a sugar fast to alcohol abstention during the month of January, a timely recovery after the excesses of Thanksgiving-through-New Years…) A new month (ie. rabbit-rabbit) ritual transcending the delicious dinner I shared with Jim and Mark two nights ago at Juniper?

    Slow Cooked Whole Rabbit: cumin, blood orange and smoked paprika glazed, corn tortillas, chimichurri, salsa fresca, refried beans (Source: Juniper at Hotel Vermont)

    Maybe a romantic romp with my bride who suggested, upon retrieving me from the airport yesterday, that we celebrate a belated anniversary to compensate for the one we missed this past autumn when she was unwell. 17 years of marriage and 21 years together. I’m incredulous even as I type these numbers. Neither seems remotely possible. But my 50th birthday seemed similarly inaccurate this past spring, and I’m obliged to accept it.

    Or how about we honor the 200th anniversary of Rosslyn’s front façade, ostensibly completed in 1823? (Apparently 3/5 of the building — the two window portion to the north of the entrance, as well as the entrance itself — was completed in 1820. The remaining 2/5, including the two windows to the south of the entrance and comprising the dining room downstairs, a guest bedroom and Susan’s study on the second floor, and another guest bedroom on the third floor, was most likely finished three years later in 1823, fulfilling the the architectural promise of this classic Federal home with Georgian and Greek Revival elements.

    An auspicious confluence of milestones and anniversaries. I’m choosing to interpret this is a good omen even as I nevertheless acknowledge that I’ve meandered from my original mark, hoisting the flag at my halfway point, mid-journey in my post-a-day quest. I recall an earlier waypoint in this quest, an update I published on October 10, 2022 when I was still just shy of halfway to where I am today.

    Yesterday marked ten weeks of old house journaling. Every. Single. Day. Two months and ten days back at the helm of this wayward, meandering, sometimes unruly experiment I call Rosslyn Redux. I emphasize the daily component of this benchmark because it’s been an important part of the goal I committed to at the end of July. (Source: Old House Journaling)

    Then as now my emphasis on everyday journaling remains a top priority.

    Over the last few years, Susan and I have scrutinized our hopes and expectations with Rosslyn. We have reevaluated our plans as they originally were in 2006 when we embarked on this adventure and as those plans evolved during the decade and a half since. It’s been an extended period of introspection, evaluating our current wants and needs, endeavoring to align our future expectations and goals with respect to one another and with respect to Rosslyn, and challenging one another to brainstorm beyond the present.

    There’s no question but that our impromptu quarantine at Rosslyn during the spring and summer of 2021 catalyzed some of this soul-searching. But so too have the many life changes in recent years. Our gradual shift toward Santa Fe as our base and Essex as our getaway rather than the other way around. The loss of Susan’s mother. My parents’ retirement near us in Santa Fe. Our nephews and nieces growing up and expanding their orbits far beyond Rosslyn. A perennially postponed but driving desire to collaborate on a smaller, efficient, creative lakeside home of a different DNA altogether, an unrepressable will to imagine into existence the sort of slow cooked (albeit shapeshifting) and highly experimental homestead we originally envisioned in 2003-5 when we first began to explore our Adirondack Coast homecoming. And there is that hiccup in our 2006 original timeline, our 2-4 year vision for homing at Rosslyn until we’d managed to reboot and reground, until we were ready for our next adventure. Those naive expectations were eclipsed — willingly and joyfully — within the first year or two.

    So what does this have to do with my daily Rosslyn updates?

    Everything.

    In committing to this daily practice last summer I was acknowledging that I had some serious work to do. In order for us to constructively sort through out collective vision for the future, to determine whether we’re too fond of Rosslyn to proceed with plans for designing and building the lakeside retreat we’ve conjured over the years, to honestly assess our willingness and our readiness to hand this sanctuary over to another family, both Susan and I are undertaking the sort of “deep work” that will hopefully enable us to make some decisions. I’m talking about 100% honest, prolonged consideration. Rosslyn has quite literally been a part of our family, and not just our nuclear family. Can we untangle her? Are we willing to let her go? Can we joyfully pass the privilege on to new custodians? Or are we not yet ready?

    For me this daily practice, digging deep into sixteen and a half years of living and loving Rosslyn, is my time and place to work through these questions. To sort it all out. To find peace and confidence in my convictions. And six months in, I believe that I’m on the right path. Not all the time. There have certainly been some tangles and tangents that got away from me before I realized what was happening and reined them in. But the constant conversation — *internal* as I study, reflect, and compose these installments as well as *external* as I share these updates and then interact with many of you — is reinvigorating and reawakening Rosslyn from her comfortable slumber (and me from mine!) 

    So this midpoint milestone is a profoundly significant benchmark for me personally. It’s the tangible representation of my germinating confidence and clarity. It’s the measurable mean between a conflicted outlook and the conviction I’m hoping to discover over the next six months. In a real sense, it’s a halfway point toward the sort of rehabilitation that we’ve been undertaking with Rosslyn’s buildings and grounds since 2006, only in this case the journey is profoundly personal. Instead of historic architectural rehabilitation, it is restoration of my innermost wonder, my romantic dreams, and my idealistic hopes. With passion reawakened and a map forward becoming more apparent each day, I’m tempted to see this benchmark as the sort of celebration enjoyed upon finally reaching a base camp, a lofty peak viewable in the distance foreshadows the ambitious ascent ahead but also offers a majestic affirmation of the reachability and proximity of the summit. Today marks just such a halfway point, an opportunity to appreciate the accomplishments so far, and an incentive to forge ahead.

    Thank you for meeting me in the middle!

  • Clearing Out Historic Icehouse

    Clearing Out Historic Icehouse

    Clearing Out Historic Icehouse (Source: R.P. Murphy)
    Clearing Out Historic Icehouse (Source: R.P. Murphy)

    Sixteen years after plunging into renovating Rosslyn we are… finally tackling the looong postponed icehouse rehabilitation. Sweet sixteen. (Source: Redacting Rosslyn v2.0 – Rosslyn Redux)

    In the image above you can see a notable improvement from previous images of the interior of Rosslyn’s historic icehouse. This underutilized outbuilding had become a storage space in the 15-16 years since it was saved from inelegant rot and collapse. Over the last few days the icehouse is being purged by Pam and Tony so that we may at last begin rehabilitation and repurposing.

    We entirely gutted the building in 2006 in order to structurally salvage the building. The northern and sorter facades had bowed at as the roof collapsed. The term used by the contractors at the time was “corn cribbing”. Once gutted, the north and south walls were gradually pulled back together over many months a little bit at a time, gradually restoring the structural integrity of the building so that new roof rafters could be milled and installed. That is what you see again today. But over the years the icehouse had become a lumber, architectural salvage, and woodworking space, gradually filling up so full that it was scarcely possibly to move around inside. That was still the case when the engineers from Engineering Ventures made a recent site visit.

    I’d guess that there’s still about a day of decluttering and organizing before the historic icehouse is once again stripped bare and ready for the next phase of rehabilitation. All of the materials that were removed have been inventoried and relocated to the carriage barn and the new storage container we’ve rented for the duration of the project. Hhhmmm… I forgot to document that. Not fascinating, nor savory eye candy, but I’ll account for the extra storage area we decided to add into the mix to facilitate job site organization, especially when gentle autumn yields to blustery winter. Now, with many of our existing building materials inventoried we can begin to organize a repurposing strategy. That’s right, baked into our recipe for transforming this historic icehouse into a flex workspace, studio, and outdoor entertaining annex is an ambitious vision of creatively reusing and repurposing a decade and a half of leftover building materials, architectural salvage, and lumber grown, felled, milled, and cured on site. I’ll articulate my admittedly romantic vision for how all of this stuff will be reimagined into a charming addition to Rosslyn’s menagerie of old buildings.

    For now, I’d like to celebrate the small victory of restoring Rosslyn’s historic outhouse to its metaphorical bones so that we can begin to prepare the interior for footings and crawlspace slab. Cheers to Tony and Pam for tackling the essential but unenviable task of cleaning [ice]house! Thank you.

    It’s going to be an inspiring few months of creative reimaginination, collegial collaboration, and transformation as this handsome historic icehouse gets the loving attention of our rehabilitation dream team. I’ll be introducing the entire cast of characters in the weeks and months ahead, and you’ll have an opportunity to witness up close and personal an historic rehab effectively reinventing a 19th century utility building into a 21st century utility building. This unique collaboration aims not only to repurpose a no longer relevant purpose-built structure into a contemporaneously relevant, utilitarian addition to this remarkable property, but also to reimagine the discarded detritus, the sometimes-elegant-sometimes-eccentric artifacts, and homegrown lumber, the byproduct of reopening the long neglected meadows west of Rosslyn’s buildings. We’ll include you in the rehab to the extent viable, and we’ll enthusiastically consider all recommendations, advice, and ideas. Thanks in advance.

  • Where in the World is Rosslyn?

    Where in the World is Rosslyn?

    Essex, NY in 1876 (Source: OW Gray Atlas of Essex County)
    Essex, NY in 1876 (Source: OW Gray Atlas of Essex County)

    Where in the world is Rosslyn? If you’re not too terribly averse to a verse, here’s an introduction writ small (wrapped up in a tidy micropoem.)

    Up in the Adirondacks
at the foot of the foothills,
where Champlain's sweet waters
refresh, render respite,
and sooth worldweary souls,
a sanctuary sings
welcoming melodies.
(Source: Where's Rosslyn?)

    Poetry not your preference? Pity! 😉 Let’s try this.

    Rosslyn is perched on the Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain in Essex, New York. Unlike the Adirondack High Peaks region, the Adirondack Coast (which comprises much of Champlain’s western shoreline) exhibits picturesque colonial architectural unlike the more recent Adirondack rustic camps located further inland. Historic Essex boasts one of the most intact, best preserved collections of early 19th century United States architectural heritage. Serving as a gateway community since the late 1700s, Essex remains an important crossroads today. The Essex-Charlotte ferry connects New York State with Vermont, while nearby NYS Route 87 and Amtrack trains connect Montreal, Albany and New York City. (Source: Where’s Rosslyn? )

    Beginning to zero in on where in the world Rosslyn is? If neither the poetics of place nor encyclopedic brevity are helping much, let’s try a map or two. Maybe I can narrow your focus a little further with this line drawing that I created with Katie Shepard for our community blog, Essex on Lake Champlain back in 2015. (If you click on the map it’ll open a window where you can download the unfuzzy PDF complete with a key explaining each of the numbers in the map.)

    Essex Architecture Map, July 2015 (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)
    Essex Architecture Map, July 2015 (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)

    Enough with the old school black and white (and sepia with faint rose highlighting). It’s time for technicolor!

    Where in the World is Rosslyn in Color?!?!

    When it comes to brightening things up, there’s no better bet than close friend, artist, and best selling author, Amy Guglielmo (@amyguglielmo). Back on November 18, 2013 I shared a post showcasing Ms. Guglielmo’s dazzling aerial view of our Essex neighborhood.

    Essex Aerial View (Painting by Amy Guglielmo)
    Essex Aerial View (Art by Amy Guglielmo)

    So, where in the world is Rosslyn? Train your eyes on the three docks/piers extending out into Lake Champlain. The middle one is the ferry dock. (See the ferry heading to Vermont?) The smallest of the three man made peninsula’s is Rosslyn’s dock house (aka “boathouse”). Armed with that little insight, perhaps you can find the same property on the two maps above? (Hint: the boathouse wasn’t yet constructed in 1876 when the map at the top of this post was made.)

    Now back to Amy’s painting and Rosslyn’s boathouse, “the maritime folly that enchanted us back in 2005-6 enough to swap NYC for the Adirondacks.”

    Heck, it still enchants us despite constant maintenance and seasonal flood worries. And the boathouse hammock is a mini vacation!

    Head inland from the boathouse and you’ll discover Rosslyn itself, tucked next to two massive trees, a ginkgo and what I believe is a silver maple (Acer saccharinum). In fact, I’m sitting in the top right room on the second floor right now. Perhaps if you swoop in a little lower you’ll catch me jotting this blog post.

    A little further left of the house are the carriage barn (lower) and ice house (upper) which offer up all sorts of mysteries. But those for another day. Unless you remember three curious artifacts I shared with you a while ago… (Source: Essex Aerial View)

    Hopefully this helped orient you. Yes, a Google map might be more precise and quicker, but sometimes Rosslyn Redux and the art of homing aren’t particularly precise or quick. Besides, a thin veil of privacy keeps the snoopers away. Or at least adds a little challenge to their quest. But if you’re looking for a little more clarity on where in the world Rosslyn is located, I suggest you check out this hopefully helpful hub: “Where’s Rosslyn?“

  • Toward a Barn Vernacular

    Toward a Barn Vernacular

    Barn Vernacular (Source: Geo Davis)
    Barn Vernacular (Source: Geo Davis)

    I’ve talked around my fascination with barns, barn architecture, barn construction, and barn aesthetics for long enough. But I haven’t outlined the tenets for my enduring intrigue, nor have I articulated exactly what I mean when I refer to a barn vernacular. It’s time to draft at least a preliminary look at my love of barns. I’ll circle back as I achieve clarity, but in the mean time, I’m going to venture into the white space, plant a flag, claim the territory. Excuse the untidy, incomplete effort. For now. In time I hope to revisit and expand this post, but I’ll start today with a precocious first foray toward a barn vernacular.

    Barn Vernacular Haiku

              Barn vernacular,
          so utilitarian
          and so efficient.
          — Geo Davis

    Yankee Barns

    In the vernacular vocabulary of quintessentially North American architecture, the barn endures as a practical yet proud icon of rural living. First and foremost a utility structure, the barn evolved to maximize usability while prioritizing efficient construction, cost, and maintenance. Barns have evolved regional and agricultural nuances to accommodate local materials, agricultural use, and climate but the fundamentals are similar. In the northeastern United States consistent elements, volumes, geometry, and even materials appear in many barns. Although history offers various compelling variations such as gambrel roof barns and round barns, one of which existed in Essex in the 1800s, these are not as compelling to me as the traditional New England or Yankee barn. Its familiar austerity, tidy efficiency — and I would argue — its exceedingly pleasing utilitarian aesthetic have appealed to me for decades. Based upon my personal experience it feels like the quintessential barn.

    Although the term, “Yankee barn” is often associated with the customs timber frame home building company, Yankee Barn Homes, I’m harkening back to an earlier and broader style of barn architecture.

    In New England, English barns were further adapted into larger, timber-framed structures, which became known as the Yankee barn. Yankee barns have large sliding doors on either of the gable ends, with large areas for livestock on either side of a central hallway. Overhead lofts allowed for convenient hay storage, and oftentimes basements were added in the bank barn style.

    Yankee barns, also called New England barns, allowed for more cattle to be housed, and were the first step in a continuing trend of larger barns to accommodate more animals. (Source: History of the American Barn – Grit

    Well proportioned, not only for agricultural utility but also in a more classic architectural sense, the Yankee barn was well built. The gabled roof was pitched to shed rain, snow, and ice during inclement weather. Positioning the principle entrances at the gable ends proved especially practical in rainy, snowy climates, allowing convenient access without needed to contend with ice and snowbanks collecting rom the roof. And traditional post-and-beam construction was well suited to the punishing loads and the swings in temperature and humidity to which the historically hand-hewn beams easily adjusted again and again over the years.

    Here’s another overview of Yankee barns.

    Yankee Barns (beginning ca. 1820s) In these barns, the main entrance is on the gable end and the drive bay parallels the ridgeline. Yankee barns usually have a larger footprint than English barns, and are characterized by sawn timbers (circular or water-powered up-and-down), large doors on either end, roofs at half-pitch (45 degrees), and stables along an eaves’ wall. They are sometimes banked with a basement level, and were often expanded by adding additional bays to the rear gable end. Rooftop cupolas and added windows help with light and air flow. Metal roofs became standard in the late 19th century. (Source: New Hampshire Preservation Alliance)

    Although my fascination with barn vernacular isn’t limited to Yankee barns, it is my most consistent and encompassing vision. For now, at least, I’ll narrow my inquiry and reflection to this general design.

  • Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives?

    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives?

    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    On October 18 I laid out some goals for my series of icehouse rehab updates. I’d already been posting for about two and a half months at that point, looking in depth at the summer’s deck rebuild. I intended to continue posting for the duration of our adaptive reuse project, transforming a late 19th century icehouse into a 21st century studio+studio+flex entertaining space. Today, about another two and a half months into the journey, I’d like to evaluate whether or not I’m on target. Are my icehouse rehab updates achieving objectives?

    Before revisiting the goals, I should note that I’ve neglected the serializing protocol—titling updates with sequential numbers—that I established at the outset. (I think this is only a temporary commission that I will/may update anon to help organize the posts chronologically.) This started when my updates fell out of sync with the calendar weeks which I’d initially used as an organizing principle. And subsequently I began emphasizing the discreet projects and people instead of the chronological sequence. Concurrently chronicling the boathouse gangway added to the confusion and incentivized focusing more narrowly on each notable project and progress milestone. Sorry if this has been confusing. Consider it an act of omission rather than an act of commission.

    So, let’s start with my original list of goals.

    The idea behind these weekly updates, chronicling our progress on the icehouse rehabilitation project is multifaceted (ie. muddled and evolving.) As I recap the second week, here are few of the underlying objectives:

    • recognize/celebrate our distributed team (Trello to coordinate, @rosslynredux to showcase, rosslynredux.com to chronicle, etc),
    • transparently map our rehabilitation process, accounting for the ups and the downs without “airbrushing” the journey (rehab inside out)
    • document our fourth and final historic rehabilitation project at Rosslyn,
    • inspire others to undertake similarly ambitious and rewarding rehab adventures, ideally with an eye to adaptive reuse of existing structures,
    • and leverage this current experience as a way to revisit and reevaluate our previous sixteen years of Rosslyn rehab ad infinitum.

    (Source: Icehouse Rehab 02: Adaptive Reuse)

    That first bullet point was as much a personal planning memo as anything. Our use of Trello within the team isn’t really particularly relevant to readers, so I’m not sure why I included that. But I did, and we depend heavily on this application for keeping everything in sync; coordinating materials, subcontractors, and deadlines; tracking progress; etc. I’ve been using Trello for years, and it’s difficult to imagine life without it.

    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)

    As of now I’m pretty pleased with the accomplishment on rosslynredux.com which I’ve succeeded in updating daily (162 days today!) with episodic, voyeuristic glimpses into the day-to-day. Although this chronicle, isn’t an unfiltered tell-all (in part because it would take too much time to record and relate in real time), it’s an attempt to live this project inside out. In other words, it’s an open door and an invitation. So far, so good. And challenge of documenting the progress on several concurrent projects happening at Rosslyn has re-immersed me in the quest—a protracted contemplation on reawakening and revival (domestic/residential and individual/personal) while exploring the role that home plays in this renewal—that I’d allowed the languish in recent years. And so it is that my daily updates are interspersed with reflections on the broader arc of our relationship with Rosslyn, wayward wonderings about the poetics of place, peripheral inquiries into homeness and nesting (and their alternatives), and even a fair share of introspection around how we perceive and remember and recount since I’m made daily aware how differing our experiences of the selfsame events and happening and conversations can be.

    And then there is @rosslynredux in Instagram, a whimsical world of eye candy and creative chronicles and inquiring innovators and curious companions all around the world. Although there is much overlap with the website, I often discover a refreshing creative energy on the platform. Many inspiring connections have come out of this vast digital agora, and the encouragement and feedback have been deeply stimulating.

    My second bullet above, “transparently map our rehabilitation process, accounting for the ups and the downs without ‘airbrushing’ the journey” has been mostly successful. Over the last five plus months I’ve welcomed a more collaborative creative energy to the project, encouraging others participating directly or indirectly to share their perspective(s). This has largely come with photographs and videos, sometimes words via phone calls, text messages, and emails. I am finding this level of narrative collaboration invigorating, and I’m hoping to encourage more in the weeks ahead. Diversifying the creative ingredients will likely improve transparency. That said, there are inevitable ups and downs on these sorts of projects, these sorts of timelines, and I’ve exercised restraint on several occasions when less filter might have made compelling storytelling but might also have compromised the collegial energy underpinning the many successes to date.

    As such the metaphorical “fly on the wall” is more aspirational goal than reality, and the voyeuristic glimpses captured in these blog posts do not pretend to be much more than editorialized field notes. Shoot for objectivity; settle for subjectivity. (Source: Voyeuristic Glimpses & Mosaic Mirages)

    In short, I’ve remained an active mediator, determining how much/little of the ups and downs benefit from 100% transparency. That said, this has been the “rehab inside out” that I envisioned at the outset, and it has added a fascinating component to the scope of our current projects.

    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Are Icehouse Rehab Updates Achieving Objectives? (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Proceeding to the third bullet, I’m pleased with the fact that we’re documenting this final historic rehabilitation project at Rosslyn far better than any of the other three buildings. Fortunately I have years of photographs, notes, field notes, audio recordings, etc. that I’m now drawing upon to help fill in some of the “white spaces” in this nearly seventeen year adventure. There’s far too much discourse and brainstorming and troubleshooting to record it all, but I’m collecting plenty of material that I’ll post if/when time allows. I’m eager to show others what this process looks like, what a 16+ year rolling renovation project feels like, and I’m hoping that sharing this experience will also help amplify the idea of home renovation and construction and landscape design and gardening and nesting as creative arts, learning opportunities, and immensely rewarding adventures.

    I’ve gotten ahead of myself, rolling right into my fourth bullet. I’ve waxed on elsewhere about the importance of embracing creative risk (especially Carpe Midlife), so I’ll abbreviate for now as the verdict—whether or not I’ve yet inspired anyone—is still out. But I’m endeavoring to immerse readers in the totality of a project like this, capturing some of the million and one small decisions that ultimately define the way everything gradually coalesces into a finished work. I’m genuinely hoping that the cost of creativity will seem paltry in comparison to the mountain of reward. If not, I’ll try harder! And the emphasis on rehabilitation, and repurposing, and upcycling, and adaptive reuse,… these are not intended to be preachy moralizing. Sure, they’re vital in this day and age, but they’re also immensely satisfying. Don’t trust me. Try it out!

    My last bullet point is a goal that I’ve already drifted into. Throwing myself into the current rehab and maintenance projects, even as an ideas and oversight participant rather than a hands-on participant has reinvigorated my enthusiasm for Rosslyn Redux manyfold. I’m swimming in documents and artifacts and photographs and notes—sooo many notes—from the last sixteen years of Rosslyn’s rehab ad infinitum (and the life / lifestyle we’ve enjoyed as a result of Rosslyn’s benevolence). I’m attempting to curate the ones worth curating and attempting to dispose of the rest, distilling from a decade and a half journey the parts worth assembling into an exhibit of sorts. It’s a work in progress, and it’s still a daunting distance from any sort of unveiling. But I’m alive with purpose and enthusiasm. And the vision is clearer each day. So, I’m guardedly optimistic that a few more months on this same trajectory and I’ll be ready to articulate clearly and definitely what I’m creating. And why. If only I can maintain the level of acute attention, if I can sustain this peculiar appetite for sifting and collaging and jettisoning the sentimental that too often pervades the true and beautiful bits, then I will have accomplished my biggest goal of all. Let the journey continue to unfold…

  • Rosslyn for Sale

    Rosslyn for sale, November 2004
    Rosslyn for sale (photo credit Jason McNulty)

    Susan and I were driving back to Rock Harbor after visiting Rosslyn, an early 19th century home in Essex, New York, which our realtor had just shown us for the second time in several months.

    It was spring. At least a dozen sailboats speckled Whallons Bay as we wound south along the edge of Lake Champlain. Small white caps, light wind, bluebird skies above. Two fishing boats trawled between the beach and Split Rock where a glimpse of Vermont was visible within the cleft.

    We veered away from the lake and up Couchey Hill toward one of the most picturesque views in the Champlain Valley. Hurricane, Giant, Dix and the Jay Range were silhouetted against cloud specked blue skies to the east. An undulating patchwork quilt of hayfields and tree lines stretched to blue green foothills clumped against the Adirondack Mountains.

    Half an hour can vanish in a single breath while watching a sunny day expire here. Even at midday the view is an open-ended invitation to linger.

    But with minds and mouths racing, we did not even slow down on our way back to Rock Harbor. We were sorting engagements, worrying over deadlines and synchronizing schedules for the week ahead. After a quick lunch, we would drive back to Manhattan. Although the trip could be as quick as five hours, Sunday afternoons were typically slower with increased traffic around Albany and returning weekenders adding to the congestion.

  • George D. Anson, Essex Merchant

    ACME, Marseilles White Spray Soaps, sold by Essex merchant Geo D. Anson.
    ACME, Marseilles White Spray Soaps, sold by Essex merchant Geo D. Anson.

    Ever scouring the midden heaps—real and virtual—for Essex artifacts, I came across these curiosities. These ACME “picture cards” were offered as incentives to soap customers. Save ACME brand Marseilles White Spray Soap wrappers, mail them to Lautz Bros & Co. (located in Buffalo, New York), and receive these odd collectibles. Think of them as the colorful baubles of an early brand loyalty scheme.

    Why am I sharing these?

    Flip the cards and you find this.

    George D. Anson, Essex Merchant

    It turns out that Essex merchant Geo. D. Anson (aka George D. Anson) was offering these to patrons of his general store in the late nineteenth century, yet another reminder of our industrious forebears in this once bustling community.

    We learn a bit more about George D. Anson here:

    George D. Anson established a store in the building now occupied by him in 188o. It is the same building which H. D. Edwards had used as a store years ago, but it had been vacant for some time when Mr. Anson came into it. (Source: “History of Essex, New York”, Chapter XXXIV (pp. 540-559) of History of Essex County with Illustrations and Biographical Sketches of Some of its Prominent Men and Pioneers, edited by H. P. Smith, published by D. Mason & Co., Publishers and Printers, 63 West Water St., Syracuse, NY 1885.)

    And, if the data logged at Find A Grave Memorial is correct, then we know the following about George D. Anson:

    Birth: 1839
    Death: 1902
    Parent: Serena Spear Anson (1800-1887)
    Spouse: Caroline Stower Anson (1847-1877)
    Children: Edward S Anson (1875-1946), Laura S Anson (1877-1954)
    Burial: Essex Cemetery, Essex, New York
    Source: Heidi McColgan (findagrave.com)

    I can’t personally vouch for the family tree since it leapfrogs my research, but it seems plausible. (Special thanks to Heidi McColgan and Karen Kelly for the information and photos.)

    Anson’s Store and Anson’s Dairy

    This is my first discovery that George D. Anson ran a store in Essex circa 1880. I hope to learn more about him/it in part because I’d like to know if this is the same Anson family that ran a dairy in Wadhams when I grew up. (See “Homeport in Wadhams, NY“, “Hickory Hill and Homeport“,  etc.)

    Vintage milk top from Anson's Dairy in Wadhams, NY
    Vintage milk top from Anson’s Dairy in Wadhams, NY

    I grew up in Wadhams when there was still a post office, a general store, and an Agway farm supply store. Does that sound like a Norman Rockwell calendar illustration? It certainly does when you add a milkman into the mix.

    Rain snow or shine Mr. Anson delivered the brunt of our breakfast ingredients. Each week he drove or walked (if too snowy or icy to drive) up our steep driveway lugging his fresh provisions. He let himself in, dropped off the goods, picked up a check that my mother left for him once a month, and continued on his way.

    The good old days… (Source: Essex on Lake Champlain)

    Off to poke around some more! (Please let me know if you can help fill in the gaps.)

  • Icehouse v2.0

    Icehouse v2.0

    Ice House v2.0 Future Loft: Looking east from within the icehouse as of June 30, 2022 while fine tuning remodel proposal for the Town of Essex Planning Board. (Source: Geo Davis)
    Icehouse v2.0: Looking east toward future loft inside the icehouse while fine tuning remodel proposal for the Town of Essex Planning Board. (Source: Geo Davis)

    At long last it’s time to move forward with Rosslyn’s icehouse v2.0 which I’ve been alluding to for a couple of months (including in the July 2 Instagram photo of icehouse interior above.) If this is your first sneak peek inside the icehouse, rest assured that the project is still percolating. When the sweet siren songs of reimagination, rehabilitation, and repurposing merge into a mellifluous melody, I’ve learned to slow down and listen…

    In the weeks and months ahead I’ll share with you the reason(s) and vision for this project as well as the cast of characters and the plan. I’m hoping to take you inside this rehabilitation project, joining the team who will transform a 19th century utility building (purpose built to store ice and preserve food) into a 21st century utility building (repurposed as a flexible studio, office, meeting, and entertaining space.) Although the icehouse won’t become the “game room” we once imagined, it will share some overlaps with that early vision.

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start in our early days at Rosslyn.

    Icehouse v1.0

    In 2006/7 during rehabilitation of our home, we began renovating Rosslyn’s circa 1889 icehouse (existing outbuilding located north of existing carriage barn). Top priority was structural stabilization including remediating a collapsing roof and “corn cribbing” of north and south walls by removing most windows to improve structural integrity and simplify reframing and drawing walls back together with cables. The existing stone foundation was repaired and repointed, and roof was rebuilt from within with rough hewn hemlock beams that we had milled locally complement the existing structure. A standing seam steel roof was installed to match our home and carriage barn, and the existing mechanicals were upgraded in conjunction with the other buildings. New electrical supply and subpanel, water supply, propane gas, and septic system were installed and inspected in 2006/7.

    And then, the icehouse rehab stalled. Indefinitely.

    We mothballed the project, deferring the next phase indefinitely until circumstances warranted moving forward. (Source: Demolition Dedux)

    Until recently, circumstances distracted us, and time whistled past without returning to the question of whether or not (and how and when and why) to tackle the conversion of this unique outbuilding.

    But the spring of 2020, coronavirus quarantining at Rosslyn, Susan and I spent many afternoons and evenings next to a fire pit just northwest of the icehouse enjoying the sunsets. We’d never really done this before. And it got us thinking…

    Reimagination, Repurposing, Rehabilitation

    I recount this curious time in other posts, but for now I’ll simply acknowledge that the early weeks and months of the pandemic allowed for a long overdue pause, an extended period of introspection. We were profoundly grateful to be able to quarantine at Rosslyn. It was truly an oasis in many respects. And this time of sequestration and slowing down and introspection opened up lots of interesting conversations.

    Long story short, we began to reimagine the icehouse rehab as a slightly different sort of conversion than we’d originally imagined. For one thing, the western views in the afternoon through early evening were spectacular and distinct from one we associate with the property. We became slightly obsessed. And so we pondered ideas for some outside living space, a fire pit, a deck, maybe even a hot tub?

    What if we repurposed this outbuilding to meet several of the needs not present in our home? What if the work-from-home model meant embracing the notion of a highly effective dedicated workspace but that could also double as an outdoor, socially distanced socializing hub?

    As we courted the siren song our imaginations ran wild. And two years later we’re finally ready to focus the vision and get started.

    Icehouse v2.0

    We are at last planning to complete the rehabilitation of the ice house, adapting it from a workshop and storage space to a studio office and workshop. Minimalist open plan but integrating a full bath including shower (and possibly a hot tub on exterior deck) creates a threefold benefit: on-site restroom for workspace; a post-swim and soak restroom for visiting friends; and a restroom and wash area for gardening, etc.

    Paramount in our plan is repurposing and recycling. We’re hoping to utilize sixteen years of architectural salvage, building materials, and on-property milled lumber to complete this project. I’ll try to document some of the materials we’ll be repurposing soon. And there will be some modern, non-repurposed accommodations as well including modern, energy efficient wood windows and doors that match the historic windows of the barn, foam insulation, and high efficiency mechanicals.

    And because the eastern façade of this historic icehouse is visible from the road/sidewalk, we propose minimal alteration to this public viewshed. I’ll be posting some images soon.

  • Installing Garapa Decking 2022

    Installing Garapa Decking 2022

    Garapa v2.0 (Source: Geo Davis)
    Garapa v2.0 (Source: Geo Davis)

    Last Friday, I teased a recap of our recent deck rebuild — or more specifically an overview of installing garapa decking on the newly rebuilt deck — but then I proceeded to dive headlong into a 2008-9 decking-with-garapa flashback. Sometimes it’s helpful to discover the backstory before plunging into the present.

    Here was my swaggering introduction (before getting lost down the rabbit hole…)

    But you needn’t wait any longer. Patience is overrated, and the new deck “eye candy” is ready. Pictures aplenty coming your way shortly, but first a little backward glance to Rosslyn’s first garapa deck waaayyy back in 2008-2009. You see, this newly completed deck is a redo of the same deck and decking completed during our epic rehabilitation project a decade and a half ago. 

    So, without further ado, let’s look at the first iteration of Rosslyn’s garapa deck. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)

    It was nostalgic to look backward at the original deck from inception through evolution through… failure. (Actually I didn’t include any of the documentation of the deck substructure’s gradual but premature decay. But I do have some unsettling photos squirreled away to review sometime. Maybe as a way to celebrate the longevity of the replacement deck.)

    Today, instead of looking backward, it’s time to showcase this A+ rebuild, the handsome material we used, and the remarkable team that transformed a frustrating stutter-start (and a heady pipe dream) into a magnificent outdoor living space to make memories with family and friends.

    Installing Garapa Decking… Again!

    Before I plunge into the process (and handsome results!) of installing garapa decking on Rosslyn’s newly rebuilt deck during summer 2022, I’ll fill you in on the evolution of this project.

    As you may already know, at the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009 Rosslyn’s deck looked picture perfect. In fact, it looked almost indistinguishable from the finished photos I’ll be sharing shortly in this post. That’s, of course, because the new deck is simply the old deck built again. Built better, because the substructure will not deteriorate prematurely like its TimberSIL predecessor.

    The plan and timeline for Rosslyn’s replacement deck came into focus over a year ago.  

    During the summer of 2021 we allowed a carpenter to sweet talk us into entrusting him with… [three separate, historically sensitive, vitally important carpentry projects.] Although we initially informed him that our confidence was wavering given his subpar communication and organizational record during the planning and scheduling phase, we ignored our misgivings (and the warnings of many) and allowed him to persuade us that we had nothing to worry about. He planned to start by tackling the boathouse gangway and waterfront stairway in September/October, and then he’d move on to the house deck. We’d be so impressed, he assured us, that we’d then hire him to rehabilitate the icehouse. If only he built as well as he talked! (Source: Rosslyn Redux)

    I’ve already covered in brief but painful details the calamitous unraveling of this 2021 plan, so I’ll sidestep the misery and fast-track to the good part. While our carpenter fiasco of the previous year might be summed up as a run-of-the-mill “crash and burn” story, this summer’s refreshing sequel was a quintessential “phoenix rising” story of mythic proportions. 

    And while there are so many “main characters” in this sequel that I can’t really credit one single protagonist — this was a truly inspiring group that coalesced into a collaborative, skilled, productive, respectful, creative, communicative team — it was Hroth Ottosen who served as the unmistakable catalyst. If I’m able, I’m hoping to eventually persuade Hroth to share his very personal decision to roadtrip east from Santa Fe, New Mexico to spearhead Rosslyn’s deck rebuild after the 2022 catastrophic wildfire season that ravaged the southwest. For now, I’ll say simply that Hroth reminds us that it is possible to emerge from calamitous circumstances braver, wiser, stronger, and freer than we were beforehand. I see an uncanny parallel between BOTH Rosslyn’s current rehab projects and the aforementioned 2021 fiasco AND Hroth’s decision to sojourn with us awhile on the Adirondack Coast. Like I’ve already suggested, a phoenix rising from the ashes! 

    Garapa v2.0 (aka Re-decking)

    Time to dive in! I tried to post relatively current updates on the team’s progress during July, August, and September, so rather than getting in the way of the story, I’m embedding our Instagram posts that chronicle our step-by-step journey installing garapa decking (and sealing the boards to preserve and enhance their already breathtaking natural beauty.) I’ll add a few thoughts along the way, but for the most part a quick scroll through the images and videos will tell a purer and more visually satisfying story than my words.

    The decision to deck with garapa back in 2008 rested on several considerations:

    • sustainable, plantation grown, responsibly harvested hardwood,
    • quality and endurance to outperform more conventional wood decking given the variable demands and extremes of our Adirondack Coast location, and
    • color and grain to complement late 18th, early 19th century architecture without appearing too contemporary and/or exotic. 

    We fell in love with garapa, and it handily ticked all three considerations.

    We sourced the milled-to-order garapa decking lumber from Advantage Lumber (@advantagelumber), and I was impressed with both their customer service and sales support. Unfortunately delivery of the lumber as less impressive. Advantage Lumber arranged shipment of the substantial order via ABF Freight (@abftoday) and — as with the majority of the logistical partners with whom we’ve worked in the last few years — they overpromised and underdelivered. Despite clearly articulating our tight timeline and receiving assurances that we’d received our garapa decking in time, the new decking material arrived late due to “logistics delays”. Sound familiar?

    On July 28, just shy of high noon on a scorchingly hot and humid day, we received our order. Perfect conditions for unloading. David wisely volunteered to inventory the lumber inside the shady truck, Tony tackled the task of unloading lengths of garapa from the truck and passing it down to the deck where Hroth and I hauled, sorted, and stacked the precious cargo.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/CgpAXM5uFCN/ 

    Unloaded, sorted, inventoried, and ready to become Rosslyn’s new deck floor, this garapa looks absolutely sumptuous after a midsummer rain. We were all a little gobsmacked with the sheer beauty of this lumber. Even an aesthetically astute bat (or three) dropped in to celebrate the honey hued hardwood.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/ChnfAqnvaju/ 

    It took a couple of days for the team to find their groove, eager to balance forward motion with perfect execution to ensure that their workmanship matched the beauty of the material. Soon they were installing garapa decking from sunup to sundown, performing a mesmerizing choreography as efficient and beguiling as a ballet. (I better not let them read this or they may refuse to let me document their work ever again!)

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/ChARdWSgBlX/

    Although progress on this sort of deck is steady and incremental, my eagerness to complete the project sometimes overtook my patience. Why aren’t we further along yet?!?! But each day, reviewing the team’s accomplishments since morning afforded us all a daily opportunity to romance the stunningly beautiful deck taking shape. End-of-day reflection (revitalized with frosty libations) frequently ran to artistic and poetic reverie more than carpentry tropes and jokes. I kid you not, but again, don’t let the guys know I said that.

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/ChXGgegAGR-/

    Although that post above specifically called out Eric Crowningshield, this project brought out the best in everyone. If my photo / video recording were as nimble as I’d have liked, I would have posted a similar tribute to every single member of the team. I’ve already mentioned Hroth Ottosen above. You’ll be hearing plenty more about him in the weeks and months ahead because he’s such a vital asset. And, Pam Murphy, our friend and property / project manager extraordinaire, not only keeps our diverse projects sorted and successful, she is the most capable “air traffic controller” ever, juggling everyone and everything without letting anything tumble out of orbit.

    These are a few of the most visible stars on this allstar team, but there are so many other: Susan’s cousin, David McCabe; our friend, Ed Conlin; electrician Brandon Dumas; jack-of-all-trades, Tony Foster; and Eric’s ever-reliable and hardworking team (Matt, Justin, Andrew, Jarrett, and Jason) Not only is the end product from this collaboration an understated masterpiece fit for the handsome home, but every day cooperation with this team was a pleasure and a privilege. We are profoundly grateful. (In fact, this is precisely why they’ve all teamed up for the icehouse rehabilitation project!)

    https://www.instagram.com/p/CiaG1LjOStE/ 

    There are the predictable successes with a project like this, but there are also serendipitous triumphs. One among many is captured in that delicate image above.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/CiprpA5uLug/

    Once the last board is scribed and screw head is plugged, it’s time to oil the garapa decking. It’s at this point that everything comes together, and the results are far more glorious than the sum of the parts.

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/CipsbUSgn9f/ 

    As each garapa board is tenderly treated with oil, the drama and depth of the wood comes alive. Such beauty!

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/Ci0XQr3A3Rn/

    There remain a few last details to conclude the project — a bit of landscaping here, a few painted trim details there — but the results are breathtaking. And this is never more evident than in the later afternoon when that mesmerizingly lush sunlight bathes the wood in amber and gold.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/CjOEWAAOjQ4/ 

    And this, my friends, is the sun soaked conclusion of our summer (and autumn) 2022 Rosslyn re-decking adventure. Installing garapa decking isn’t an overnight victory lap, but the painstaking efforts will pamper us for years. Susan, Carley, and I extend our most sincere thanks to everyone who helped transform this dream into reality.

  • Renderings for Icehouse Rehabilitation 2022-2023

    Renderings for Icehouse Rehabilitation 2022-2023

    If you’ve been following along over the last couple of months, observing from afar as we rehabilitate and repurpose Rosslyn’s icehouse, then perhaps a vision is beginning to take shape in your imagination? Or maybe you’re struggling to envision the future of this handsome but understated utility building? I’ll be sharing design and structural plans piecemeal in the months ahead, but today I’d like to show you a couple of slightly whimsical renderings of the icehouse as it *might* (see note below) appear when rehabilitation is complete. The work of friend and frequent architectural design collaborator, Tiho Dimitrov, these illustrative previews are an enjoyable way to fertilize the team’s imagination as they progress.

    Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation, East Elevation (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)
    Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation, East Elevation (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)

    The image above depicts the east elevation, the most visible to passersby who happen to glance west, beyond the house, past the stone wall and the linden tree, to where a pair of “barns” —actually a carriage barn and an icehouse — are backlit by the setting sun. This east-facing icehouse façade was the primary focus in our meetings with the Town of Essex Planning Board. Because of the impact it has on the historic viewshed, we have endeavored to minimize changes, even repurposing/recreating the former icehouse door as a storm door per the encouragement of several board members.

    Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation, North Elevation (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)
    Rendering for Icehouse Rehabilitation, North Elevation (Source: Tiho Dimitrov)

    The second rendering of the icehouse as viewed from the north is notably absent the carriage barn (located directly south of the icehouse.) Although this might initially seem misleading, there’s potentially an intentional and beneficial consideration as explained below. Of note in this view (not visible from the public viewshed) is a change to the original fenestration. Only a single window, the one furthest to the left, likely dates to the building’s construction in the late 19th century. This 3-lite window, along with an identical window south side, have served as the template for three windows in the rehabilitation plan. When we purchased the property a massive window had been cut into this wall, but we removed it during the initial phase of structural rehabilitation in 2006-7. It is visible in the photo below, taken by the previous owners’ son, Jason McNulty.

    Icehouse, North Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
    Icehouse, North Side (Source: Jason McNulty)

    It’s also evident in the following photo taken by Jason McNulty. Both photographs were recorded on November 8, 2004.

    Icehouse, North Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
    Icehouse, North Side (Source: Jason McNulty)

    The three six-over-six double hung windows in Tiho’s rendering have been templated from the carriage barn, and the three small windows above are templated from similar windows in the carriage barn that were originally installed in rack of the horse stalls. They are visible in one of the photos I shared recently in the post, “Local Lumber& Fall Foliage”.

    As It Might Appear?

    I qualified my statement above about these renderings illustrating how Rosslyn’s icehouse will/might appear after rehabilitation is complete. Why, you ask? Architectural renderings are a powerful tool for visualizing designs and structural plans, but they are subjective. For example, in the renderings above, attention is focused on the icehouse to the exclusion of other conditions (ie. the carriage barn located mere feet to the south of the icehouse). There’s something romantic, even misleading when we isolate a specific subject from its broader context, and that is certainly the case with these delightful renderings. Colorful and capricious, they are extremely effective tools for catalyzing imagination for the future of this rehabilitation project. But there’s much more at stake as we adapt the northwest quadrant of Rosslyn’s public property (as opposed to the meadows and fields to the west of the gardens and orchard). I’ve chronicled in other recent posts concurrent site work to the north and west of the icehouse, removing some of the topographical changes introduced early in the 20th century when a clay tennis court was installed. We will be reintegrating the landscaping in the immediate vicinity of the icehouse with elements already present on the property in order to restore greater cohesion and balance to the landscape design.