Surplus Building Materials: garapa, slate, and marble (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Exciting icehouse rehab progress in recent days, so I’m due for an exciting update or two. But first I need to whittle down the backlog of overdue posts, especially some of those dealing with how we’re transforming some of our surplus building materials into exciting design elements in the reimagined icehouse. I can anticipate your interest flagging. Surplus building materials? Isn’t that about as exciting as yesterday’s leftover?!?! Well, perhaps, but hold that thought for a moment.
It struck me [recently] how similar edible leftovers and building materials can be. Think of surplus lumber and architectural salvage. They get pushed to the back of the proverbial fridge (in our case, usually one of the outbuildings) in the hopes of one day becoming the ingredients for something relevant and exciting and new. (Source: Leftovers as Ingredients)
In addition to repurposing this handsome historic building, we have endeavored to repurpose as many surplus building materials and architectural salvage artifacts as reasonable (i.e. functionally and aesthetically viable) in the design and rehabilitation process. (Source: Leftovers as Ingredients)
You may remember the mixed species flooring experiment (which incidentally is only a day or two away from an exciting update!) or the repurposed columns. Maybe the upcycled coatrack or the deconstructed-deck-upcycled-into-paneling project that’s already a couple of months in process… The truth is there are multiple ways that we’re endeavoring to breathe new life into construction leftovers and surplus building materials, and I’m embarrassingly overdue with updates.
So today I’d like to share with you a previously undisclosed scheme that’s at last approaching a final decision.
Surplus Building Materials: slate and marble (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In addition to garapa walls — picture amber hued, time patinated, hand milled 4″ boards installed horizontally with a nickel gap — the icehouse bathroom floor and shower will be clad with leftover tiles. That’s right, surplus building materials. Did I lose you again? I hope not, because we’re getting pretty close to a truly handsome combination.
Most likely the floor will green-gray slate that we over-ordered during the Lapine House renovation in 2005-6. We loved it then, and we love it now. And it looks perfect with the upcycled garapa! The corner shower (two tiles walls and two glass walls) will likely have this same slate integrated into the east and south walls, but that detail is still evolving. I promise an update very soon, since we’re running out of time to make a final decision. Necessity is the mother of invention…
And the base of the shower will likely reuse marble tiles from our master bathroom shower. The understated calacatta marble complements the slate, and the contrast between the elegance of marble and the earthiness of slate is appealing, especially locating the marble at the base and the marble in a more prominent position. We’re also considering the possibility of combining another unlikely tile in the shower, smoky green 3″x6″ glass tiles, these surplus building materials from a change-order on a client project Susan designed a few years ago.
Surplus Building Materials: garapa, slate, and marble (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Note: If you noticed a difference between the image at the top of this post and the similar image above, the first image offers a slightly truer color representation. Pam dampened the garapa and slate to approximate what the walls and flooring will look once the material is sealed.
I left you wondering, patiently waiting for a couple of weeks after the “Deck Rebuild” update. I promised a post specifically focusing on the garapa decking, but days turned into weeks, and no garapa gallery. Sorry. Rest assured it was an act of omission, my friends, not an act of commission. (Maybe “fall” earned its name as an abbreviation for “falling behind”?)
Before 2022 re-decking… (Source: Geo Davis)
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.
Garapa Decking v1.0
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. And with winter upon us, December days flurrying past, the year coming to an end, carpentry conditions deteriorating rapidly, and the risk of missing yet another deadline, we were pushing hard to get the deck complete before 2008 morphed into 2009. Fortunately most of our crew had been with us for years and they were really, really good sports about giving everything they had to finish the year with a completed deck.
Although the deck had been underway for many weeks at this point, let’s start with a couple of cold and drizzly December 10, 2008 snapshots.
Doug’s Decking Tent, December 10 2008 (Source: Geo Davis)
This makeshift weatherproofing was an attempt to endure the increasingly cold and wet conditions as autumn gave way to winter. Decking was closer, closer, sooo close,… but not yet done. And the damp child found its way into every every gap between clothing, up sleeves, down collars. Winter’s warning was everywhere as the team hustled toward the finish line.
Wondering about that smiling, blurry apparition at the left? That’s Doug Decker, hustling to keep warm. (And his colleague, partially concealed beneath the tarp, is Jonathan “Boulder” Schier.)
Here’s another glimpse of the challenging conditions the crew endured during the final stretch of the garapa decking project almost fourteen years ago. It’s not east to discern but Doug’s under the tarp tent working on the stairway.
Of course, the only way to make these drizzly early December conditions look pleasant is to leapfrog forward to December 22, 2008.
Installing Garapa Stairs on December 22, 2008 (Source: Geo Davis)
You might almost miss freezing rain once a couple feet of snow have blanketed the North Country. In the photo above, a dauntless carpenter (either Kevin Boyle or Warren Cross, I believe, though perspective and bundling make me uncertain) is scribing and installing garapa treads, the final step to completing the deck. And despite the snow, it’s sunny and he’s dressed for success. This is certainly one of the downsides of installing a deck so late in the season (and one of the upsides of having such an amazing team of carpenters, willing to do whatever it takes to get the job done right and on time!)
Garapa Deck, January 1, 2009 (Source: Geo Davis)
What a perfect way to start the new year! Garapa decking installation complete; access to and from vehicles, garbage and recycling shed, side yards, safe and convenient; and an absolutely breathtaking addition to the property, transitioning perfectly from interior to exterior space.
Garapa Deck, February 2, 2009 (Source: Geo Davis)
One month later Rosslyn’s garapa deck looks as if it’s always been there. Patinated perfection. Still unsealed, waiting for more forgiving conditions, but that too will happen in due time. (Although it’s an off-topic segue, I will revisit this period between garapa installation and sealing down the line. There was an unfortunate hiccup that required attention, but — spoiler alert — it wasn’t actually caused by the gap between install and oiling. Another gap was the culprit…)
Wayne Gryk Sealing Garapa Deck, September 19, 2009 (Source: Geo Davis)
Friend and jack-of-all-trades-master-of-many, Wayne Gryk tackled the challenge of sealing the garapa decking 9-10 months after installation. He’s an artist, a perfectionist, a productive and diligent finisher, and exactly the right person for the final step in Rosslyn’s [first] garapa deck.
Home stretch… One of the boobytraps of sealing a deck is maintaining house access. It’s easy to accidentally close off entrance and egress without forethought about how you’ll access the dwelling while patiently swaying the often lengthy cure time. Fortunately this isn’t the sort of drama Wayne delivers
Sealing Garapa Deck, September 19, 2009 (Source: Geo Davis)
Wayne proceeded strategically, leaving a small unsealed “pathway” on the deck for us to enter and exit until the newly sealed decking had dried sufficiently. Once we could switch to another doorway, Wayne finish up the last little bit. In the photo below he’s almost finished, but you can already see the glorious accomplishment.
Wayne Gryk Sealing Garapa Deck, September 19, 2009 (Source: Geo Davis)
At this point it’d be reasonable to fast-track from 2009 to the present, 2022. With a newly rebuilt deck, brand new garapa decking installed, and a fresh coat of oil accentuating the unique color and grain of the garapa, it’s a site to behold.
But before showcasing the new decking, I’d like to make a quick pitstop on November 25, 2016 which is a handy example of the results of resealing our first garapa deck. Let’s start with a high sun, midday look across the deck shortly after oiling.
Resealing Garapa Deck, November 25, 2016 (Source: Geo Davis)
You’ll note the considerably darker decking in the photo above. This is not because we used a dark pigmented sealer (we have always used clear sealers). It’s the effect of graying as the deck ages. We generally allow a few years between resealing, in part because we actually really enjoy how the gray patinated decking looks next to the Essex quarried limestone (aka Chazy limestone) walls. But a sealed deck is better preserved against the snowy Adirondack winters, so we reseal in service to longevity. In this photo you can see how much depth and character the garapa exudes as it matures. Each season offers intriguing nuances to discover and appreciate.
Resealing Garapa Deck, November 25, 2016 (Source: Geo Davis)
The same deck, the same day, viewed from another angle highlights the honey and maple syrup range of Rosslyn’s garapa deck approximately eight years and several resealings after her debut.
In more recent years we allowed the decking to gray without resealing because we knew that the substructure was failing and deck replacement was iminent. In preparation for our summer 2022 deck rebuild we carefully salvaged all of this original garapa decking, and current experiments are underway to determine the most appealing adaptive reuse in the new icehouse project. (I’ll post an update on that soon!)
Next up? Installing garapa decking on the newly rebuilt deck!
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.
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)
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)
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…
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Last night, I enjoyed Christmas dinner, the sequel. No, not the movie. The leftovers. Leftover turkey, mashed potatoes, gravy, green beans, roasted, butternut squash, all smothered under her blanket of gravy. And for dessert, pumpkin pie, and pecan pie.
And, as you may have predicted, it was delicious. Perhaps even more delicious than the first go round. Have you ever noticed that some meals just taste better the second time around? Hold that thought…
And note that I didn’t mention leftover turkey dressing / stuffing. There’s still plenty of that, but I’m one-and-done with stuffing. I enjoy making it, but after an initial scoop (and a small scoop at that) on Thanksgiving and Christmas, I’m on the the tastier dishes. It’s too filling. Too heavy. Too, well, just less appealing to me, even when drowning in gravy.
Ingredients for Christmas Turkey Dressing (Photo: Geo Davis)
Leftovers
This post is brought to you by leftovers. Yes, the ones crammed into your refrigerator right now. But not just those. Let’s expand our thinking beyond food. I imagine you have all sorts of remainders and vestigial scraps tucked into the nooks and crannies of your home. Junk drawers, closets, garage,… I’m thinking about all of those items (I’ll stick with “items” for now, but fair warning that I’ll soon ask you to consider them “ingredients”) that you could have thrown away but didn’t because you suspected that you’d be able to use them again in the future.
You with me?
Don’t worry, I’m not going to show you photographs of the two ingredients above as they after becoming turning dressing, after being served on Christmas, after getting scooped into a glass container, and after spending some time in the refrigerator. Sure, the turkey dressing is still edible, but it’s decidedly less photogenic at this stage.
But last night while feasting on our Christmas dinner sequel I got to wondering why the leftovers tasted better during their debut. It’s different than stew and soup and even some pasta dishes, all of which seem to hit their stride only after they’ve had some time to rest a while. And maybe it has something to do with the fact that my first experience with this meal followed a morning-until-late-afternoon cooking frenzy. Whereas last night I simply sat down and devoured the goodness.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Ingredients
This post is *also* brought to you by ingredients. Yes, like the fresh celery and onions above, we joyfully imagine crisp, colorful ingredients bursting with flavor. But poking through the fridge, pushing aside containered leftovers, wondering what in the world to eat, we get a different feeling. Less joyful. More resigned. But sometimes, last night’s dinner for example, we are surprised when we embrace the sequel.
Sometimes we get creative and reimagine the leftovers, decide to experiment with different combinations, different preparations. We cease to think of the leftovers as unfinished extras from the first meal, and we repurpose them as the ingredients for a brand new creation. Remember corn cakes and turkey gravy? Sometimes it works, and sometimes it doesn’t.
While overeating Christmas dinner for the second time it struck me how similar edible leftovers and building materials can be. Think of surplus lumber and architectural salvage. They get pushed to the back of the proverbial fridge (in our case, usually one of the outbuildings) in the hopes of one day becoming the ingredients for something relevant and exciting and new.
Leftovers as Ingredients (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Leftovers as Ingredients
You see where I’m going with this?
I’ve repeatedly mentioned that the icehouse rehabilitation is an adaptive reuse project. Transform an obsolete utility building into a useful, relevant multi-use space that adds value to our life at Rosslyn. And, in addition to repurposing this handsome historic building, we have endeavored to repurpose as many surplus building materials and architectural salvage artifacts as reasonable (i.e. functionally and aesthetically viable) in the design and rehabilitation process.
I’ve talked about the repurposed columns and the loft flooring experiment, and I recently celebrated the upcycled coatrack and the antique ice hook (which will be displayed prominently as decor once rehab is complete). I’ve post a couple of updates on our “research” into upcycling garapa decking and re-milling our homegrown lumber into flooring (and other interior millwork). In the weeks and months ahead much of Hroth and Pam’s focus will shift indoors, and I’ll be relating additional opportunities that we’re exploring for repurposing our building leftovers as the raw ingredients for a brand new working and relaxing space that will fuse more than a century’s ingenuity and artifacts into an integrated, cohesive (and hopefully beautiful+charming) space.
As we journey through the icehouse rehabilitation, endeavoring to create relevance and value for leftovers while ensuring that the final result achieves these lofty aspirations of functional and aesthetic integration, cohesion, and attractiveness, brainstorming and collaboration become more and more important. And more and more enjoyable! With such a diverse cast of contributors, I’m hoping that we’ll cross pollinate and evolve ideas that none of us individually would have come up with. Co-creation is sure to conjure out-of-the-box ideas and original solutions that draw upon the diversity of experiences and passions and perspectives. So, please consider this an open invitation to share your suggestions!
Yesterday I meditated a minute on bygone barns. Ancient farm buildings. Tempered by time, tempted by gravity, and sowbacked beneath the burdens of generations, these rugged utility structures retain (and sometimes gain) a minimalist elegance long after design and construction and use fade into history. My meditation was meandering and inconclusive. In part this was due to the wandering wonder these timeworn buildings inspire in me. And in part it was because my observations are still evolving and inconclusive. I’m not a barn expert, an agricultural architecture preservationist, or even a particularly astute student of barns and farms. But I am a barnophile.
a person with a fondness for structures used to house livestock, grain, etc.
an admirer and/or collector of agricultural outbuildings
Aside from the hubris I’ve just exercised in birthing this barnophile definition, I’m generally inclined to a humbler and less presumptuous relationship with the mostly agrarian artifacts we categorize as barns.
[As an unabashed barnophile with a] weakness for wabi-sabi, I’m especially keen on bygone barns.
By “bygone barns” I’m conjuring an entire class of rural farm and utility buildings belonging to an earlier time. Classic lines, practical design, form following function, wearing age and even obsolescence with pride,… I’m even smitten with buildings so dilapidated that they’ve been reduced to their skeletal essence by the forces of nature. Sunlight, moonlight, weather, wildlife, and vegetation permeate these carcasses. The sparse assembly of materials — beaten by the elements for more years than anyone alive can definitively claim to know — endure erect, monumental, lavishly adorned with forgotten functions and the patina of passing time. (Source: Bygone Barns)
Barn Vernacular (Source: Geo Davis)
But why do forgotten farm buildings enchant me? What reason lurks beneath the tidy text, what foundation for my unusual fascination with these vestiges of a simpler, more local, perhaps even a slower time? Katie Shepard, so very rarely off target, suggests this childhood reminiscence might play into my barn-centric attraction.
My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres in Greenwich, New York five months after getting married. I was born less than two years later.
Although The Farm served primarily as a weekend getaway for the next five years, it dominates the geography of my earliest childhood. A stream of nostalgia gilded memories flow from this pastoral source: exploring the time-worn barns, absent livestock except for those conjured up by my energetic imagination and the swallows which darted in and out, building nests in the rafters, gliding like darts through dusty sunbeams; vegetable gardening with my mother; tending apple, pear and quince trees with my father; eating fresh rhubarb, strawberries and blackberries; discovering deer and raccoons and snakes and even a snapping turtle. (Source: The Farm)
As usual, Katie is right. Woven into the earliest tapestries of my childhood are fond associations with barns. This was undoubtedly further reinforced during our years at Homeport given the inordinate amount of time that my brother, sister and I occupied ourselves in the mysterious old barn complete with ballroom and servant’s quarters long since adapted to other uses. And in my grade school years my siblings and I memorized Dylan Thomas’s “Fern Hill” to recite as a birthday gift for my father. I wish I could take credit for this creative gift giving tradition, but it was my mother, Melissa Davis, who gently guided the three of us each winter to select a poem that would appeal to my father, and then to memorize it during our daily 45-60 minute commute to school each morning and and each evening. Three days after Christmas, on my father’s birthday, we would recite the poem together, and (with one notable exception that’s better reserved for another day) my father enjoyed the gift, leaning back, sometimes closing his eyes, and listening attentively. I think “Fern Hill” may have been the best received, and it became a go-to for family recitation over the years, hypnotically weaving itself into the ethos of our childhood the way a prayer might.
Boundaries of a Barnophile
There comes a time to focus the “philos”, or at least to try and narrow or delineate the subject of interest.
I’ve talked around my fascination with barns, barn architecture, barn construction, and barn aesthetics… 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. […]
In the vernacular vocabulary of quintessentially North American architecture, the barn endures as a practical yet proud icon of rural living. […]
Although my fascination with barn vernacular isn’t limited to Yankee barns, it is my most consistent and encompassing vision.(Source: Toward a Barn Vernacular)
In other words, I’m inclined toward classic geometry, roofs steep enough to shed water and snow (with a particular fondness for 9:12 pitch), and unembellished details. And I will always favor bygone barns to new construction. The quality of workmanship and materials stands out, but so too does the story stretching across decades, even centuries.
I consider aging utility buildings — barns, boathouses, icehouses, sugarshacks, etc. — to be at least as intriguing as old houses. More sometimes. So many relics, unselfconscious, candid. Less penchant for concealing, fewer makeovers, more concurrently present years and lives. Sometimes it’s the old, banged up subjects and objects that look the best. Thank goodness for that! (Source: Horse Stall Haiku)
And what of other barn-like buildings, rural utility buildings designed and constructed after the same manner?
School Bus Stop Ahead (Photo: virtualDavis)
They appeal to me as well. In fact, the agricultural DNA isn’t essential to me at all. I suppose I’m somewhat “barn androgynous”, equally smitten with similarly origined buildings even if they’ve never seen a horse, cow, chicken, pig, or hay bale.
That said, it’s worth acknowledging that the architecture of New England barns, Yankee barns, and even — drifting a little further southeast — tobacco barns are especially appealing to me. And if it’s fair to assume that my affinity is at least partly nostalgia-driven, then it’s probably worth adding another influence the those sited above. Four year of boarding school in Old Deerfield, Massachusetts definitely instilled in me an appreciation for early colonial building, and there were a couple of barns that still loom proud in my memory.
Beyond Boundaries
Although I wish I could gather these strings and call it caput, I must further complicate the boundaries I’ve endeavored to delineate above.
While there’s something alluring about the volume and the efficiency of barns, the unpretentious posture with no attempt to conceal functions or mechanism, scale isn’t essential. The small corn crib above, for example, intoxicates my imagination nearly as much as the grand barn at the top of this post.
Baked into my identity as a barnophile, into this somewhat esoteric aesthetic and philosophical appetite, is a tendency to stretch my definition of barns to include other similar outbuildings.
While Rosslyn didn’t fit squarely into the vision of an old farm or a collection of dilapidated barns that I originally was hunting for, this stately home does have three remarkable outbuildings, all three of which lured me as much as the house. In fact, well before we completed our top-to-bottom rehabilitation of the home, we tackled the icehouse, boathouse, and carriage barn. All of them were on the brink. Actually much of the house was as well. But just as we committed to salvaging the home, returning it to its former grandeur, we likewise undertook laborious, challenging efforts to salve the icehouse, boathouse, and carriage barn. All buildings were dilapidated, but the icehouse and boathouse were both succumbing to the omnipresent challenges of weather and neglect.
I’ve posted plenty in the past about Rosslyn’s boathouse, the lakeside folly that beckoned to us from the beginning. For a whimsical mind like my own, smitten with boating adventures — real and imagined — becoming irreversibly enchanted with our small dock house protruding out into Lake Champlain was pretty much inevitable. Although its mission has always been tied to watery locomotion, it is for all practical purposes a sort of barn. A diminutive lakeside barn purpose-built for boating. A utility outbuilding conceived and specifically confected to serve the Kestrel just over a century and a quarter ago.
And Rosslyn’s icehouse, occupying much of my attention these last few months as we cartwheel through an ambitious rehabilitation and adaptive reuse project, is likewise a barn. We often refer to the carriage barn and icehouse, standing as they do side-by-side, as “the barns”. As a utility building designed to complement the architecture of the carriage barn and home, it was nevertheless first and foremost a utility building constructed to support the residents with year round cooling at a time when refrigeration did not yet exist. It was an ice barn!
And so you see perhaps the elasticity of my identity as a barnophile. A barn might not immediately appear to be a barn. But the rudiments, the purpose, and likely the longevity have profited from the heritage of barn building. And this, my friends strikes me as the right place to wrap up. If this this post was intended as a more intimate look at the romance of bygone barns, those that have endured a looong time and even those no longer viable, then I’ve covered my bases. And too, I’ve revisited my original hope of locating an old barn to convert into a home, a hope that has not altogether faded away.
In fact, Susan and I have been for a few years brainstorming a barn-inspired for the future, our future, that just might begin to emerge in the years ahead. Stay tuned…
You may recall that we’ve been upcycling garapa decking from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck that we salvaged and laid aside this past summer. Spanning half a year so far — from deconstructing and culling reusable material midsummer to multiple experiments determining optimal dimensions for adaptive reuse as bathroom paneling — we’re now scaling up production and the results are impressive.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Adaptive reuse of the old decking was an abstract ideal when I announced it at the outset. I’m not 100% certain whether the rest of the team was intrigued and looked forward to the challenge, or thought it was yet another frustrating folly. But Hroth was an especially good sport, planing board after board and trimming the edges to determine what would work best.
We have begun re-milling and re-planing garapa decking salvaged from Rosslyn’s summer 2022 deck rebuild. These sample boards are among the many weathered specimens carefully removed this spring and summer prior to rebuilding Rosslyn’s deck substructure and re-decking with new garapa. Hroth’s patient. Hroth’s patient exploratory experimentation is the first phase in our effort to adaptively reuse this character-rich material in the icehouse. Still preliminary, but exciting possibilities ahead!
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Squeezed into the interstices of all of the other more pressing priorities in the daily scope of work, little by little Hroth determined that 3-7/8” x 5/8” were reasonable dimensions. We both really liked the look. In fact, Hroth, Tony, and Pam, like the look so much that they decided to upcycle some reclaimed garapa (plus a few artifacts from the icehouse excavation) into dashing decor!
Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team. (Source: Upcycled Christmas Gifts)
And now Tony is beavering away industriously transforming the salvaged lumber. The photographs in this post offer a nice glimpse into Tony’s work upcycling garapa decking into pristine planks for paneling.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photograph below, you see gradients of old gray surface wood that was exposed to the weather over a decade and a half. You can also see wood that is further along in the planing process, revealing beautiful garapa coloring and grain.
Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It’s a slow and painstaking process that demands plenty of patience and focus, but the results are worth it. Transforming debris into beautiful finish paneling will prove rewarding, for sure. And in the photograph below, I suspect the Tony is even beginning to appreciate what magnificence he is bringing into existence.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Here’s a quick remix to enliven this static commentary…
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cm_ttD5haqx/
And here’s another, reflecting back to Hroth’s earlier expiratory “research”.
XXX
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cj4hbRIAFlh/
And, just for the fun of it, here is the new deck build once it was complete.
Finding freudenfreude while upcycling lumber (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Last week Tony, Hroth, and Pam all shared overlapping updates on garapa, elm, and ash upcycling progress. Virtually concurrent texts and photos sent by all three. Two of them spoke with me by telephone. All of them sounded 100% in sync. No griping. No grumbling. No blaming. And no complaints, frustrations, or regrets. They were uniformly upbeat and optimistic. They were proud of their own accomplishments, and they were proud of one another. I suspect that they’re finding freudenfreude.
Freud and who?!?!
From Schadenfreude to Freudenfreude
You’re probably already familiar with the idea of schadenfreude, but maybe freudenfreude is new to you. Until recently it was new to me.
Lately the idea has experienced an uptick in usage, likely driven by Brené Brown’s Atlas of the Heart. A book review by Jon M. Sweeney orients us.
Schadenfreude “simply means pleasure or joy derived from someone else’s suffering or misfortune.” And Freudenfreude is its opposite; “it’s the enjoyment of another’s success. It’s also a subset of empathy.” — Jon M. Sweeney (Source: Atlas of the Heart by Brené Brown | Review | Spirituality & Practice)
Too often envy (or some similarly all-too-human but lamentable feeling) rumbles to life deep within our psyche when we witness a colleague or friend succeeding, especially if we’re not feeling completely satisfied with our own performance, life, etc. But what if we could alchemize envy into empathy? What if we could train ourselves to feel happiness, satisfaction, and even pride when someone else thrives? We can.
Finding pleasure in another person’s good fortune is what social scientists call “freudenfreude,” a term (inspired by the German word for “joy”) that describes the bliss we feel when someone else succeeds, even if it doesn’t directly involve us. Freudenfreude is like social glue, said Catherine Chambliss, a professor of psychology at Ursinus College. It makes relationships “more intimate and enjoyable.”
Erika Weisz, an empathy researcher and postdoctoral fellow in psychology at Harvard University, said the feeling closely resembles positive empathy — the ability to experience someone else’s positive emotions. A small 2021 study examined positive empathy’s role in daily life and found that it propelled kind acts, like helping others. Sharing in someone else’s joy can also foster resilience, improve life satisfaction and help people cooperate during a conflict. (Source: Juli Fraga, What is Freudenfreude? And How to Cultivate It. – The New York Times)
I’m especially drawn to the possibility of freudenfreude as “social glue” that cultivates collegiality through further kindness, resilience, and cooperation. Actually, collegiality is too limiting, since family and friendship certainly prosper in the presence of this joy-of-joy phenomenon.
Cultivating a sense of freudenfreude ― or letting yourself feel vicarious joy for others ― could benefit your friendships greatly… (Source: Brittany Wong, Huffpost)
But what about the inevitable flush of envy or resentment?
Try to fight back a gnawing, unexpected feeling of jealousy.
[…]
Comparison is a big part of how our brain judges reality, but we can learn to use this process more productively, especially within our friendships.
“Instead of feeling crushed when we discover others have arrived at some desirable destination first, we can be grateful they helped to define the path for us,” Catherine Chambliss said. (Source: Brittany Wong, Huffpost)
Mistakes as stepping stones! (Photo: Geo Davis)
Some good news: what goes around comes around. Finding freudenfreude isn’t only a matter of investing yourself in the happiness and success of your peers, it’s also an opportunity to thrive yourself.
Freudenfreude is a two-way street! So be sure to find ways to include your friends in your successes and wins, too.
“When you have a big success, it’s important to embrace your own friends, to honour their value in your life; to recognise their insights and their support,” Shaw [Glenda D. Shaw, author of Better You, Better Friends] says. “By acknowledging your friends, you include them in your success, and that’s what this is all about.” (Source: Brittany Wong, Huffpost)
Cultivating freudenfreude amongst friends and colleagues is not only contributing to the “social glue” of the group, it’s actually an act of community building and collective accomplishment. None of us grow and prosper and succeed in a vacuum. We are intrinsically interdependent. And despite the occasionally onerous responsibilities that come with embracing this reality, the rewards are ample, not just for one, but for all.
“When we feel happy for others, their joy becomes our joy,” said psychologist Marisa Franco, author of “Platonic: How the Science of Attachment Can Help You Make — and Keep — Friends.” To that end, freudenfreude encourages us to look at success as a community achievement.
“No one gets to the top alone, and when we elevate others, we’re often carried up with them,” Dr. Anhalt said. (Source: The New York Times)
Isn’t this just good teamwork and empathy? I suppose if you’re uncomfortable embracing and/or adopting this clunky German-ish (more on that in a moment), then you can cobble together your own equivalent. The important takeaway, as far as I’m concerned, is that noticing and genuinely appreciating and acknowledging and even celebrating your friends’ and teammates’ victories will benefit the entire cohort and initiative.
Experiencing more freudenfreude doesn’t mean you’ll never root against a villain again, but being able to reach for happiness is inherently beneficial. “As delicious as it is to delight in our enemy’s defeats, celebrating our friends’ success — big and small — helps us all triumph in the end,” Dr. Chambliss said. (Source: The New York Times)
Although it’s easy, convenient, and sometimes *really* tempting to cast aspersion and blame less-than-perfect progress on others, there’s no benefit. But there is abundant detriment. If, however, the group can shift their impetus to finding freudenfreude—even when there are setbacks and/or problems emerge—then the path to successive success isn’t far off.
Tony’s Timesheet: sizing, planing, sizing, planing… (Photo of invoice from Tony Foster)
Finding Freudenfreude & Fellowship
Let’s get back to Tony, Hroth, and Pam.
Long story short, Tony’s day-after-day re-milling (sizing and planing) was paying off. He’s been upcycling old, deconstructed garapa decking for adaptive reuse in the icehouse as wall paneling. And he’s been planing rough cut elm and ash lumber that was harvested, milled, and and dried on site over the years, ensuring a uniform thickness so that we can upcycle this homegrown timber (a byproduct of rehabilitating Rosslyn’s fields and forest) into flooring for the icehouse.
Finding freudenfreude while upcycling lumber (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Early on Hroth had expressed some misgivings about the quality of the results, the speed of progress, etc. I’m sure Tony probably could have expressed his own aggravations, but he didn’t, nor did I encourage him to. Susan reminds me that I’m an exacting taskmaster, and I have no doubt that my own persnickety perfectionism was amping up expectations and stress throughout the team unnecessarily. Hroth had been endeavoring to mentor Tony, and Tony was giving it his all. The garapa is hard as blazes, and after years of use on the deck, the material has inherited some especially challenging characteristics that gradually had to be figured into the production process by trial and error. And much of the ash and elm had checked, twisted, and cupped while in storage. Reading each board and troubleshooting the best process to transform it into beautiful finish lumber was a challenging proposition to say the least. Further difficulties arose from two different types of planers, and a job site table saw less-than-ideally suited to the task. Add to the mix Pam overseeing Tony and Hroth, endeavoring to ensure tip-top quality control, while Hroth concurrently was juggling myriad other responsibilities in the icehouse. And, if that’s not enough ingredients to cook up a stressful stew, add yours truly to the mix, located just over two thousand miles away in Santa Fe. Absent geographically, but participating virtually via phone, text, email, Trello, etc., my inputs were likely considerably more than all three of them would likely have preferred. So, needless to say, there were inevitably some growing pains.
Finding freudenfreude while upcycling lumber (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Strains and setbacks were initially overshadowing progress. It was starting to feel like the proverbial pressure cooker.
But then things started to coalesce. Tony found his groove. Hroth praised Tony. Pam praised Hroth and Tony. And all three let me know how pleased they were with the evolving results and dynamics. Wait… what just happened?!?!
It’s anybody’s guess, but I’d like to think that the team is finding freudenfreude. It’s not the first time. I’ve witnessed it repeatedly. Last summer during the deck rebuild, there were multiple stretches where the team coalesced so harmoniously and so productively that the progress and breathtaking results almost seemed an inevitable byproduct of the chemistry. This fall and winter have demonstrated several similar stretches, but one that stands out was the icehouse foundation collaboration when two teams that had been working on separate, unrelated projects came together and performed skillfully.
So, what’s the takeaway? Shun schadenfreude, and find freudenfreude!
Finding freudenfreude while upcycling lumber (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Afterward
Until now I hope that I’ve elevated the prospect of finding freudenfreude—of authentically cultivating and fertilizing freudenfreude—in order to incubate collegiality while growing the collaborative capacity of the cohort. But, as a linguist, I’m unable to bookend this reflection without acknowledging that the word in question, freudenfreude, is manufactured and imperfect. And while I don’t think this diminishes the concept, it’s worth taking a quick dive into a recent critic’s perspective.
There’s only one problem…: “freudenfreude” may be known in sociological jargon (and similar in meaning to the Sanskrit-derived mudita), but it’s not a German word. On both a linguistic level and, one might argue, a cultural one, freudenfreude is Scheiße. — Rebecca Schuman (Source: Source: Slate)
If Ms. Schuman’s not only stolen your bliss but bewildered you with that last phrase, Scheiße is an alternative form of scheisse (which is German for “shit”). Feeling a bit bruised? Perhaps Lady Gaga’s “Scheiße” can fix that for you…
And if that’s not disorienting enough, Ms. Schuman follow’s that blow with another.
None of this… stops “freudenfreude” from sounding downright ridiculous to Germans — or, even better, salacious. One German professor… pointed out that Freudenfreude sounds a lot like an existing compound noun: Freudenhaus. Literally “house of pleasure,” this is actually a word for brothel. — Rebecca Schuman (Source: Source: Slate)
So, there you have it. If you’re in Ms. Schuman’s camp, you may well prefer another way of articulating this positive, beneficial, proactive force for good. No worries. But if you’re less scatologically inclined and comfortable considering a “house of pleasure” to be an unnecessary exit ramp for the present contemplation, then I encourage you to go about finding freudenfreude. Hope it turns out well for you.
Finding freudenfreude while upcycling lumber (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Icehouse Foundation Collaboration: concrete truck arrives
Last Friday I gushed that it’d been a monumental week. No hyperbole. Tackling (and completing) Rosslyn’s icehouse foundation was an epic accomplishment, a concrete collaboration conjoining two separate teams to rescue the foundering concrete project. And while Friday’s post was brief, timely-but-abbreviated recognition for the indefatigable individuals who pulled off this remarkable feat, today I’ll show you the step-by-step process from prep work and two separate concrete pours to completion of the icehouse foundation and crawlspace floor. I see this accomplishment as an enduring testament to (and foundation for, excuse the pun) the unique energy fueling Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab, an intrinsically collaborative and transformative revitalization and adaptive reuse project.
Rising from the Ashes
After repeatedly failing to produce a verifiable estimate, timeline, and definitive commitment (ie. a contract), the concrete subcontractor imploded mere days before starting work on the icehouse.
“Bad news,” Pam informed me and then told me she needed to get back to me in a moment. No time for bad news, I thought.
By the time she called me, minutes later, both in-house teams had convened to brainstorm. Given the tight project timeline, they decided to undertake the foundation and slab themselves. This marked a return to the original plan (subsequently discarded in lieu of hiring a concrete contractor in the mistaken assumption that it would streamline and accelerate the project timeline) but with a twist… turning two teams into one. Full pivot!
One team (Pam, Hroth, Tony, Justin, Eric, Matt, Andrew, Bob, Phil, Scott, Brandon, Ben, and others) has been rehab’ing the icehouse, and the other team (Pam, Peter, and Supi) has been rebuilding the boathouse gangway, etc. You read right, Pam is managing both projects. And several other Rosslyn initiatives including our master bedroom balcony re-decking, master bathroom shower tile tune-up, overall property management at Rosslyn, ADK Oasis Highlawn, ADK Oasis Lakeside, and multiple other properties. (Since I can hear you wondering, yes, she’s that good!)
The combined concrete collaboration would be Pam, Peter, Hroth, Supi, and Tony. With everyone coalescing around one specific goal — completing the icehouse concrete as well or better than a dedicated contractor without blowing up the budget or timeline — the objectives were obvious, but so was the potential for challenges and setbacks. Imagine a metaphorical pressure cooker. Top clamped tight. For a week. With zero room for mistakes. And yet, collaboration prevailed despite the inevitable stress.
From layout to excavation to vapor barrier to pinning the old foundation to setting rebar to wiring mesh to pouring initial footings and slab to forming curbs and setting rebar to final pour and stripping… these five came through delivered in a big way. Together they’ve guaranteed a sound, well constructed foundation for Rosslyn’s circa 1889 icehouse rehabilitation. I can report with profound pride and pleasure that it was a total success.
Most of the crew was able to gather on Saturday evening to celebrate their accomplishment, an end result that is in all likelihood superior to what we would’ve wound up with in the first place. Sometimes setbacks are actually the inspiration to regroup, reboot, and outperform original expectations. Sometimes fiasco fans the fires of triumph. Sometimes the phoenix rises from the ashes.
Video Mashup of Concrete Collaboration
If you’d prefer the quick zip through, then this video mashup is for you.
Thanks to Pam, Hroth, and Tony for recording the photos and videos featured in this video mashup!
Photo Essay of Concrete Collaboration
Okay, now it’s time for the photo essay chronicling the step-by-step progress and the series of accomplishments made possible by the collaboration of Pam, Peter, Hroth, Supi, and Tony.
Icehouse Foundation: installing vapor barrier
Icehouse Foundation: Supi and Tony install vapor barrier
Icehouse Foundation: Supi and Tony install vapor barrier
Icehouse Foundation: Peter bending rebar
Icehouse Foundation: Peter bending rebar
Icehouse Foundation: installing rebar for footers
Icehouse Foundation: Hroth, Peter, and Supi awaiting concrete
Icehouse Foundation: rebar and remesh ready for concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Peter, Hroth, and Supi ready for concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Hroth, Peter, Tony, and Supi pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Hroth, Peter, and Tony pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Supi screeding concrete, Hroth and Peter pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Tony, Hroth, Peter, and Supi pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Supi screeding concrete; Peter, Hroth, and Tony pulling concrete
Icehouse Foundation: Supi floating concrete; Peter pulling concrete; Hroth supervising
Icehouse Foundation: first pour curing
Icehouse Foundation: Supi doweling curb rebar into green slab
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: building forms for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: dowels, rebar, and forms ready for second pour
Icehouse Foundation: Peter and Supi pouring curb
Icehouse Foundation: Supi vibrating concrete
Icehouse Foundation: green concrete setting up; j-bolts installed
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: foundation stripped and curing
Icehouse Foundation: concrete curing
Thanks to Pam, Hroth, and Tony for recording the photos featured in this photo essay
Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
We told you last week that we’d decided it was time to “rehome” our John Deere “truckling”, and yesterday the handoff was made to Essex neighbors, Heather and Lee Maxey. Congratulations, and thank you!
The truckling (actually a John Deere AMT 626) has been a reliable workhorse for decades, literally. This 5-wheel predecessor to today’s John Deere Gators originally belonged to my parents who used it at their Rock Harbor home since the 1990s. They handed it down to us more than 10 years ago, and we put it to use during Rosslyn’s top-to-bottom building rehabilitations. Subsequently as we used the John Deere truckling as we created the gardens, orchard, and vineyard, and later as we restored the old meadows and began maintaining trails through the woods.
But wait… there’s more! We invested in a new 6-wheel Gator somewhere in there, and the John Deere truckling was eventually shifted up to ADK Oasis where it continued to perform reliably hauling landscaping materials, shuttling grass clippings and leaves, and basically fulfilling the perennial need for a utility vehicle capable of running across lawns without adversely impacting the lawns.
So, as far as we’re concerned, the truckling has earned her keep many times over! But treated well and serviced regularly, we figured it might still be of service to someone else. Given the age of the vehicle, however, we felt uncomfortable selling it. Wasn’t there somebody who’d like to swap us an intriguing narrative about how they proposed to use the truckling in lieu of payment?
Sure enough, we were approached with some great stories. Although we were torn between several including a musical retirement at the Meadowmount School of Music, Lee and Heather were so enthusiastic and brimming with captivating ideas. More on their plans in a moment.
Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey, Heading Home (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Rehoming the Truckling
Their vision for the truckling centered around gentle duty in service to their popular herd of alpacas. If you haven’t visited with these whimsical creatures near crest of Bull Run, I strongly suggest you stop by for a visit. As Heather eloquently explained, there’s a need for an alpaca “honey wagon”! Apparently they load up the alpaca “beans”, her euphemism, I believe, and deliver them to neighbors in want of fertilizer and mulch. A perfect task for the truckling, supporting the smiling alpacas who in turn make most everyone else smile as well. But the Maxeys are in the middle of a significant building project, and they had no difficulty dreaming up all manner of chores to keep the old utility vehicle feeling relevant even in its dotage.
But the most exciting by far? It turns out that Lee and Heather are going to be Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus for Christmas in Essex. The truckling, they surmised, would make the perfect “sleigh” to traffic the the Clauses from the ferry and through Essex. How could we possibly resist? We couldn’t. And so the decision was made.
John Deere Truckling Rehomed and Renamed! (Photo: Lee Maxey)
Renaming the Truckling
Now for now particularly good reason our family and friends have always referred to this 5-wheeled wonder as the truckling. Not clever. Not original. But it has stuck across the years. Until now.
The Maxeys, have decided that it’s time for a new name. Betty. Or Bette. I’m not 100% certain which it’ll be, but the logic ostensibly is a capricious nod to our last name. But is it Bette Davis (actress) or Betty Davis (singer)? I’ll clarify soon, but in either case flattery just may have been the icing on the cake. A new name and a new home.
Musical Mashup
What better way to sum it up than a video remix of Lee and Heather’s adoption of Bette/Betty…
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:
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?
Unloading Garapa Decking, July 2022 (Source: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Unloading Garapa Decking, July 2022 (Source: Susan Bacot-Davis)
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!)
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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.
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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.
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As each garapa board is tenderly treated with oil, the drama and depth of the wood comes alive. Such beauty!
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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.
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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.
Columns in previous owner’s workshop, present day dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s time for another architectural salvage update, this time focusing on the Greek Revival columns that we salvaged from Rosslyn’s future dining room back in 2006 in the early days or our renovation project. Let’s dive right in with that photograph above, but first a quick semantic note. For the sake of this post (and others) let’s assume that “adaptive reuse” and “repurposing” are sufficiently equivalent to be used interchangeably. There are those who restrict use of the former for buildings and use the latter for both buildings and materials, design elements, etc. I use the two interchangeably, not limiting “adaptive reuse” to buildings.
Some of you may recognize the photograph at the top of this post as the workshop of Rosslyn’s previous owner, George McNulty. Others of you know this same space — originally a pair of parlors and later dining rooms when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn — as Susan and my principal dining room. (To avoid confusion, the qualifier is intended to distinguish the space from our front parlor which we use as a smaller dining room and the morning room or north porch which we use as our informal dining room.)
Deconstruction & Salvage
Although similar to the photograph above, this next set of visual benchmarks were made about half a year later. In the first photo the well equipped wood shop was still ready for creative carpentry and historic preservation, active pursuits of the previous owner for decades. But in the photograph below renovations are well underway and this room is virtually empty and deconstructed to the studs and brick.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
All of the trim in this room had already been meticulously documented by McNulty, but we salvaged everything that we could for reuse and to template from in order to bring this room back to its previous condition. It’s worth noting that we originally had hoped to be able to minimize repairs to this room, but it turned out to be a sifting sand trap. Each element we tackled revealed two underlying problems and so on. The floor was failing, the ceiling was failing, the fireplace was failing, the columns and beam which separated the space into two rooms was not original, and there was a window — bricked up and concealed within a closet — that was begging to be opened. Needless to say this room, our future dining room, was one of many that mushroomed in deconstruction and rehabilitation. The scope of work dilated day after day after day for weeks and then months and eventually years. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
To refocus on the columns, lets start by taking a good look at the southern column (above) and the northern column (below) and then let’s get a little boost from the good folks at Britannica on the anatomy of a Greek column.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
The simplicity of these columns, only minimally embellished, lead me to consider them of the Doric order. And the following overview serves us well with one subtle revision. Both in their original location and in their future icehouse location, these repurposed columns will rest on the floor. In other words, the floor serves as the stylobate.
There are many separate elements that make up a complete column and entablature. At the bottom of the column is the stylobate; this is a continuous flat pavement on which a row of columns is supported. Rising out of the stylobate is the plinth, a square or circular block that is the lowest part of the base. Atop the plinth and forming the remainder of the base are one or more circular moldings that have varying profiles; these may include a torus (a convex molding that is semicircular in profile), a scotia (with a concave profile), and one or more fillets, or narrow bands.
The shaft, which rests upon the base, is a long, narrow, vertical cylinder that in some orders is articulated with fluting (vertical grooves). The shaft may also taper inward slightly so that it is wider at the bottom than at the top.
Atop the shaft is the capital, which serves to concentrate the weight of the entablature on the shaft and also acts as an aesthetic transition between those two elements. In its simplest form (the Doric), the capital consists (in ascending order) of three parts; the necking, which is a continuation of the shaft but which is set off from it visually by one or more narrow grooves; the echinus, a circular block that bulges outward at its uppermost portion in order to better support the abacus; and the abacus itself, a square block that directly supports the entablature above and transmits its weight to the rest of the column below. (Source: Britannica)
You’ll be quizzed on this later. Maybe. Or not.
Repurposed Columns
Now armed with some targeted vocabulary we can fast forward to about a week ago when Pam, Hroth, and Tony extracted the columns from the hay loft of the carriage barn where they’ve been stored for about sixteen years. I won’t pretend they’re tidy, but they’re intact, well preserved and ready for repurposing as a whimsical-but-structural design element supporting the new icehouse loft.
Hroth surveying soon-to-be repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photo above we’re looking over Hroth’s shoulder at the soon-to-be repurposed columns. Yes. Big. Eight feet from the bottom of the plinth to the top of the capital. Hroth’s a tall fellow, but these stately columns tower above him. I’m bringing this up to allow for critics to suggest that these columns just *might* be out of scale with the diminutive icehouse. It’s a reasonable suggestion. But we’re not undertaking an historic preservation. Instead we’re rehabilitating a utility space, a once-upon-a-time storage barn for ice, into a contemporary mixed-use office, studio, lifestyle space. Relevance is driving the program and adaptive reuse with a whimsical nod to the past is guiding the design choices. There are some incongruities baked into the vision for sure, but we’re gambling that they’ll prove charming rather than unsettling. Fingers crossed!
Hroth transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
After a decade and a half of dusty hibernation in the carriage barn’s hayloft, these artifacts of once again seeing the light of day. Tony (upstairs, inside) and Hroth (outside) tenderly liberated the columns from the veritable warehouse of architectural salvage — windows, doors, moldings, trims, shutters, fireplace surrounds, mantlepieces, and various miscellanea — to begin rehabilitating them.
Hroth and Tony transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It’s worth noting that I played with the perspective on the photo above in order to best view the column emerging from the carriage barn. Hoth’s face and figure suffered slightly Silly Putty disfigurement in the process. Please forgive me, Hroth!
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The capitals are not connected to the columns, perhaps because installation is more convenient. Or perhaps as a casualty of our 2006 deconstruction (or sixteen years of getting bumped into while in storage?) But the elements are intact and ready for cleanup and reassembly. I’ll update the repurposed column progress as they move forward on their journey toward installation.
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although it’s still a little premature to photograph the columns inside the icehouse, and since we have some long overdue cleaning and refinishing to undertake before these towering twins are ready to preside over their new environment, it’s helpful to imagine where we’re headed. To that end I’ll conclude with the most recent interior elevations that include the columns. There are inevitably tweaks that will emerge in the weeks and even months ahead and we massage the icehouse rehab into shape, but these drawings might sate your curiosity for a while.
Icehouse interior elevations including repurposed columns, as of November 11, 2022 (Credit: Tiho Dimitrov)
In closing, thank you Hroth and Tony for recovering the repurposed columns with such care. Thank you, Pam, for months of dimension documentation and photographs to ensure that Tiho was able to integrate these into the plan. Thank you, Tiho, for your perennial willingness to accommodate our sometimes challenging guidance and requests. And thank you, Rosslyn, for providing and supporting and nurturing our vision(s). Your gifts are without end.
Adaptive reuse has become an increasingly important principle for me in recent years. And one of the most ambitious (yet most critical) objectives for the icehouse rehabilitation project is repurposing surplus building materials and existing architectural salvage from previous projects; upcycling decking debris and other deconstruction byproducts from sixteen years of remodels and rehabs; and miscellaneous materials reclaimed from Rosslyn’s buildings, fields, and forests (such as a carriage barn full of cured ash, elm, and other lumber that was harvested, milled, and dried on-site.)
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. Hroth has planed these boards down to 5/8” and the lumber is beginning to look really good. Maybe 1/2” will be perfect?
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In addition to milling off the grooved edges (originally used for securing hidden fasteners to deck substructure) and planing the boards down, the next step will be choosing a suitable joint between boards. I’ll share updates as we continue to explore upcycling the old garapa decking.
What the Heck is Upcycling?
Nowadays we throw around words like upcycling, recycling, repurposing, adaptive reuse, etc. without stopping to ensure that we all understand what these words even mean. Upcycle That, a (@upcyclethat), a website launched in 2012 to showcase upcycling ideas and inspiration, offers this clear and concise way to think of upcycling.
Upcycling is taking something that’s considered waste and repurposing it. The upcycled item often becomes more functional or beautiful than what it previously was. That’s why it’s called upcycling, because the value of the item is increased! (Source: Upcycle That)
Junk, debris, byproducts, and leftovers reimagined and transformed into valuable new items. That’s upcycling.
If this sounds a little bit like recycling, let’s turn to the Upcycle That team again for help clarifying the difference between upcycling and recycling.
Recycling and Upcycling have different processes. In the recycling process, items are broken down to be reused. Paper is shredded and turned into pulp, plastic is shredded and melted into pellets, glass is smashed and melted to be recast. This downcycling is an essential step in the recycling process, but it does degrade the value of the materials.
Upcycling is a creative process where waste is looked at as a resource. Materials are reused in a clever new way, giving them a second life and function. Think of a pallet coffee table. Upcycling transforms the pallet into a lovely piece of furniture. (Source: Upcycle That)
I would add to the downside of degrading the source materials another frequent cost of recycling: energy consumption. Not only can the act of recycling gradually diminish the quality of the paper, glass, plastic, etc., but the process(es) by which the down cycling takes place almost always consumes energy. By sidestepping the down cycle-step in recycling, upcycling reduces the need for energy consumption.
Energy Use to Upcycle Garapa
As a quick followup to this last question of energy consumption during the downcycling vs. upcycling processes, I should note that transforming our old garapa decking into a finish material for the icehouse bathhouse is not without its own energy inputs. As you can see in the video above, these boards are being passed through a wood planer and they’ve already had their sides trimmed on a table saw. So, electricity has been an inevitable input in order to transform what on another project might have been considered demolition debris into what on our icehouse project will become beautiful bathroom paneling.
Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey, Heading Home (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
John Deere Truckling Rehomed and Renamed! (Photo: Lee Maxey)
