Rosslyn Redux

Tag: Boathouse Gangway

  • Durable Joinery

    Durable Joinery

    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Joints. Joinery. Rejoinery. Durable. Dynamic. Durable dynamics. Durable joinery. Team dynamics…

    Consider that word parade fair warning for where I’m headed. From dovetails to team dynamics, in the twinkling of an eye. At least, that was my plan in revisiting a flood of field notes. Instead my errand evolved into a meandering meditation on admittedly abstract, fairly freestyle associations between durable joinery and team dynamics.

    So, if you’re the A-to-Z git-r-done type, this is a good post for you to skip. Probably. Unless you’ve already burned a cord of calories and you’re surfing a dopamine-endorphin wave, in which case this might be just the departure from your daily that the doctor ordered. (The proverbial doctor, not the real doctor.)

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s rewind a few weeks to my sudden and unanticipated decampment from Santa Fe to Essex.

    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Icehouse Intermission

    Mission interrupted, more to the point. Icehouse rehab back on ice for a week or two while we regrouped and remapped and, eventually, rebooted. Upon approaching Rosslyn by water — steely skies and surreal snowflakes fluttering occasionally (as if the special effects team had been downsized), an almost empty ferry, a mostly hibernating hamlet hunkering lakeside — mixed emotions roiled within me.

    There was a wellspring of anticipation upon returning to inspect firsthand the team’s progress on the icehouse rehab, boathouse gangway, and some painting and tiling maintenance inside our home. There was also the poignant pique of a visit precipitated not by plan or passion but by infelicitous necessity. (Source: Snow Falling on Homecoming)

    Three weeks ago this past Wednesday. The following days were invigorating. Encouraging.

    By in large, this impromptu return to Rosslyn has been profoundly positive…

    [“On the Level“, a poem drafted during my visit, reflects] the reassurance that I’m encountering, the confidence and conviction that are flowing back in after ebbing…

    […]

    On the level, there’s plenty of optimism, despite inevitable setbacks. (Source: On the Level)

    The progress was grounding, familiarizing myself physically with what I’d been living virtually, witnessing in person the dramatic transformation of this long-held vision into tangible, well built, inviting spaces and floors and walls and stairs and windows and doors. The volumes and the vessel that contains them, defines them, that had been gestating for almost two decades, was at last becoming believable due to the collaboration and teamwork of many.

    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

    A furtive foray into the curious coalescence of still tender fractures and ruptures that drew me back to Rosslyn (and that continue to disclose themselves each day of my stay, reminders of quaking in recent weeks) but also the durable bonds and the abiding beauty that hold it all together. (Source: Bowtie & Broken Memento)

    While it is indeed Rosslyn’s abiding beauty that beckoned us to this property in the first place and her abiding beauty that has buoyed us through years of historic rehabilitation (and personal rehab!), there are times when the border between broken and unbroken blurs and faultiness become fractures. In such cases it is the durable bonds that prevail, that steady the proverbial ship, that hold it all together.

    Rarely, I find, does the journey tidily delineate between clear victories and clear setbacks. Ours is a nonbinary and highly subjective adventure, and this midwinter, mid-project hiatus is no exception. Disheartening and challenging, yes, but also an opportunity to acknowledge and to celebrate accomplishment, a notable benchmark on the quest to reinvent a 19th century utility building as a 21st century lifestyle hub on a par with Rosslyn’s gracious home, waterfront, and generous grounds.

    In short, there was — and there is — far more to fête than to lament at this juncture.

    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Back to Work & Field Notes

    In what’s become a familiar pattern, today’s post was an orphaned draft, initiated as field notes during my recent Essex sojourn, and then adapted into a readout for the team to catalyze our onsite meetings into an actionable scope of work. That part happened. Practical. Necessary. Timely. Now, with the benefit of sufficient remove (for tempering tone and shifting perspective) I’m revisiting those field notes from a more meditative perspective. And yes, my reflection has been fueled in no small part by an obsession with joinery.

    Before I go there, guiding you into the mesmerizing maze of my imagination (bread crumbs advised), let’s ground this soon-to-be-ungrounded stream of conscious in the days we spent together as a team. Here are a few excerpts recapping my extended site visit.

    We met as a big group and as multiple smaller groups over more than a week. Much was rehashed, brainstormed, problematized, and decided during these encounters, so I’d like to follow up with a readout from our main meeting as well as some of the items that came out independently in my one-on-one followups. Please understand that some of what I’m including may feel like micromanaging or second-guessing skills, expertise, experience, etc. Please accept my apologies in advance, and understand that neither are among my objectives. However the last month has illustrated the downside to having direction and decision-making silo’ed up. By “flattening” the team, I am hoping to shift the focus toward a more collegial, more ensemble oriented approach. We have ample resources in our team (an almost embarrassing abundance of skill, passion, and work ethic!), and I want to make sure that everyone has an opportunity to contribute, to catch problems before they materialize, to learn from one another, and to avoid the bottlenecks and logjams that we can’t afford at this halfway point.

    We will continue to rely on Pam, Peter, and Eric as the three leads or “co-captains” with the objective of streamlining on-site decision-making and progress. But I strongly encourage everyone to study the plans, to ask questions, to make suggestions, and to contribute to the collaborative success of the icehouse rehabilitation as we cartwheel toward the finish line.

    Although we covered an expansive scope of work during our meetings, I gathered the gist into a detailed outline for everyone to review, edit, and augment prior to our team meeting the following week. In addition to onboarding everyone as a contributing and valuable member of the team while reaffirming a commitment to transparency as we move forward, I also hope to encourage the sort of cross pollination that has consistently defined the high point of this and previous projects.

    Our follow-up team meeting fleshed out the scope of work and cemented the near term benchmarks and timeline. We will be able to revisit weekly with an eye to efficient project management, clear expectations, and an emphasis on incubating the sort of collaborative environment that yields the best results and ensures the most enthusiastic comradely. Goals set. Updates as we advance upon these goals.

    So that sets the stage in a dry, rearview mirror sort of way.

    What it overlooks is the morale, outlook ,and commitment of everyone with whom I met. Shuffling the team and shifting responsibilities midstream is unsettling and disruptive at best. The way this team came together, processed the change, stepped up to new responsibilities, and immediately, resolutely refocused on the new map and timelines was astounding. Confident and optimistic, proud of their accomplishments heretofore, eager to restore forward motion, and laser focused on the tight timeline, elevated expectation, and bountiful challenges. Unwavering. And hopeful that the full team might be reconstituted in the home stretch to finish up strong together, and to collectively commemorate their accomplishments come June.

    And this is part of what takes me to the woodworking, and specifically joinery, as a metaphor. Heck, it’s not even just the sorts of joining and conjunction that are foundational to joinery and even carpentry. It’s the millennia old art and artisanry committed to joining, conjoining, and even mending that fascinates me. I’ve waxed on aplenty about wab-sabi, so I’ll sidestep a tangential deep dive now (ditto for Kintsugi.) A tidy touchstone will suffice.

    Wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of appreciating beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete” in nature. (Source: Wikipedia)

    Joining, conjoining, and reconjoining. No false disguise, no pretense, no faux facade. Bringing together. Bringing back together. I’m clearly still ill equipped to wordsmith my ideas into articulate or persuasive prose. But I’m working on it. And I’m hurling this half-baked post into the world with the unrestrained wish that it will settle on fertile soil, that it will germinate, and that I will be able to observe and learn how to communicate what it is that I’m discovering, this groundswell of insight that I’m experiencing without yet fully comprehending what it is. Bear with me, and I’ll do my best to interpret the lessons as they are learned.

    In the mean time, I will draw in two compelling perspectives that may well shed some light.

    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Joinery as Metaphor

    Allow me a moment to weave in a consideration that deftly approaches the idea of woodworking as metaphor.

    I am building a file cabinet for my office. It strikes me an apt metaphor for what we do as teachers in the classroom. I begin with a vision, followed by making a clearly developed plan. I gather the materials I will need – examining them for grain, quality, and fit. Each piece is cut just over the requisite length. I use a variety of joinery techniques to assemble the parts. The finished piece begins to take form. From the rough construction, wood is slowly and strategically removed, rounding edges and corners, sanding rough edges and surfaces, slowly revealing the finished shape. I stand back to see what continues to require attention. Final details are attended. Stain is gently rubbed in; varnish is brushed on – rubbed smooth between coats. I stand back and smile, satisfied with a pleasing, useful piece of furniture. — Bill Lindquist, January 3, 2012 (Source: The Purple Crayon)

    Teaching. Yes. And team building. Team rebuilding.

    Perhaps the following is only tangentially related, though it feels germane.

    But I know full well that many woodworkers don’t want to hear about philosophy. What practical value can there possibly be in sitting around thinking about work? Isn’t it better just to roll up your sleeves and get to it?

    I believe that this temptation to leave our brains at the door of the shop is rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature that separates our thinking from our doing…

    We are whole beings, and although we have inner and outer aspects (mind/soul and body), we are essentially unities, not dualities… you cannot separate your mind from your body. You can’t put your thoughts and beliefs in one category and your practices in another.

    So, why so much thinking and theory from a woodworking publication? Because, reader, you have a mind inextricably connected to those hands. And I am convinced that if we want our work to reflect the fullness of who we are, the why will be just as important as the how. — Joshua A. Klein, September 28, 2021 (Source: What’s With This Woodworking Philosophy Stuff? – Mortise & Tenon Magazine)

    Absolutely. (And, as an aside, this reminds me that I’ve been ignoring another orphaned draft about Rosslyn’s  5w’s. Back on the punch list!)

    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)

    At present I’m endeavoring to unweave our recent Rosslyn narrative just enough to re-braid the threads that anew, mending the challenges that have arisen, as if braiding a bridge over troubled water… (Or a bridge graft at the base of a partially girdled tree in Rosslyn’s orchard… Yikes! Mixed metaphors. And so long as I’m hoarding metaphors, what about kintsugi?)

    Kintsugi is an ancient Japanese art in which broken pottery is mended with glue and gold honoring and highlighting the cracks rather than hiding them. The belief is the pottery is stronger and more valuable after the breakage and mending. Kintsugi is a powerful metaphor and physical art practice to explore layers of meaning of broken, to look at the pieces in new ways, and notice the ‘glue’ in our lives that assist us to mend, navigate challenging times and keep on going. — Kristin Pedemonti (Source: Mending What’s Broken | Steer Your Story)

    The writhing winds are pulling my mind hither and yon, and I find myself too, too deep into this meandering meditation to abandon it. If I’ve lost you, I apologize. Know that we are lost together. But as fellow sojourners we are not idle, waiting for the illumination of morning. Perhaps we’ll stumble upon or quarry in the darkness.

    In closing, and I promise you I am, allow me to apologize for this untethered and unedited runaway. More soon, I hope, on mortise and tenons and dovetails, joyful joinery, rejoinery and durable bonds. My imagination is conjuring an intricate scarf joint that conjoins by gathering, by honoring, by encouraging, a meticulously crafted union where stresses are distributed in all directions and resilient when forces challenge. My imagination is ringing with the melody of strengthen, even repairing a strained or failing joint. Join, conjoin, reconjoin…

  • Snow Falling on Homecoming

    Snow Falling on Homecoming

    Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Today’s ferry ride from Charlotte to Essex — with snow falling on homecoming — tasted bittersweet if vaguely familiar. There was a wellspring of anticipation upon returning to inspect firsthand the team’s progress on the icehouse rehab, boathouse gangway, and some painting and tiling maintenance inside our home. There was also the poignant pique of a visit precipitated not by plan or passion but by infelicitous necessity.

    The circumstances of my sojourn need no airing now since, perhaps, the “better part of valor is discretion“. So let’s skip the preamble and fast forward to the purely positive, right?

    The cold, blustery ferry ride. The on-again, off-again frenzies of flurries pointillistic-pixelating the watery panorama, the approach to Essex, the desaturated vision of Rosslyn’s boathouse, the almost empty ferry queue, and the entirely empty roadway home.

    Hhhmmm… Still shy of the purely positive, but hold tight. It’s coming.

    Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles: January 16, 2014 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles: January 16, 2014 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles

    That blue-gray veiled waterfront snapshot dates from a post I shared on January 16, 2014. Just over nine years ago. And the title, “Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles“, remanifested in muddled facsimile (snow falling on hemlocks…) as I pulled in the driveway, observing the row of new evergreens planted along the norther edge of the front yard last spring/summer. (Which reminds me, I’ve still not posted those updates. Best get on with it before the one-year anniversary!)

    The photo bears a close similarity with today, and this drift of words struck me as uncanny, sort of the mirrored reflection of my sentiments upon arriving today.

    A parting glimpse of the boathouse blurred beyond veil of soggy snowflakes. Southwestern sirens are calling me away — by ferry, airplane and rental jalopy — so I leave the homestead in the able care of my bride and my dog for a few days. I’m willing deep drifts of powdery snow upon my return! (Source: Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles)

    And this, fair reader, is where the positive uptick begins.

    Another whirlwind visit, but rather than a whirlwind away in Santa Fe, it was to be a whirlwind in Essex. I took note of that. Just shy of a decade; a not-so-subtle shift. And then there was that twin allusion to the recently re-roofed icehouse, long since silver-foxed, and to David Guterson’s novel which had moved me then but has slowly vanished like the ferry’s wake resolving back into the surface of the lake. And that transformation from cedars, actually American arborvitae (known locally as “cedars” or “white cedars”) to hemlocks resonated as well.

    Snow Falling on Hemlocks

    Remembering the micropoem with macropotence. Superpowers.

    Dust of Snow

    The way a crow
    Shook down on me
    The dust of snow
    From a hemlock tree
    Has given my heart
    A change of mood
    And saved some part
    Of a day I had rued.
    — Robert Frost (Source: Poetry Foundation)

    There was no crow today to catalyze my “change of mood”. There were birds at the bird feeders beside the deck and beneath the leafless gingko tree. And several mallards retrieving fallen birdseed from the snow beneath the feeders. And the new row of hemlocks, similar to the old row of hemlocks on the other side of the property, looked green black beneath their frosted cloaks. But it wasn’t the songbirds, the mallards, or the hemlocks that “saved some part / Of a day I had rued.”

    Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Snow Falling on the Icehouse

    It was gathering with Tony and Peter and Steve inside the icehouse, taking in the awesome transformation from dirt floored shell of a utility building to micro mansion. A soaring one-room wonderland with a loft that thrills the 10-year old still overmuch alive in me. A barn loft with a handsome, homey stair rather than a ladder. A stout rebuild with an airy energy. An icehouse warm against the frosty afternoon despite the fact that no heat was running. A small scale sanctuary for writing and reading and creating the day away.

    After meeting with the members of the team on hand I wandered, cold, and snow capping my hat and shoulders around and around, studying sightlines, editing hardscape and landscape plans, evolving furniture plans. After several months away, inspecting and and guiding and absorbing the progress from a digital distance that distorts the approximately 2,000 miles of reality jam-packed between me and the actual timbers and window openings and stair landing that have risen in the empty volume I left behind in September. Virtual reality is not reality. But walking and touching and rapping my knuckles and eyeballing alignments and sitting in a folding chair exactly where my desk chair will be several months from now,…

    Snow Falling on Homecoming

    This is the uptick. Where I felt tormented and conflicted in recent days, even as the ferry glided across the chilly lake, I now feel swollen with optimism. And underpinning the optimism is profound pride and gratitude for the work that has been completed and to the team who made this possible. Thank you Hroth, Pam, Tony, Eric, Matt, Brandon, Ben, Justin, Jarrett, Bob, Phil, Zack, David, Steve, Kevin, and everyone else I’m inadvertently overlooking. Your hard work and perseverance have begun to transform a vision into a building — an environment for creativity and productivity and entertainment — worthy of the handsome heritage that this historic property deserves. Susan and I are profoundly grateful to you all.

  • New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret & Other Wonders

    New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret & Other Wonders

    We survived 2022, friends, and in some fortunate cases, we even thrived. Cheers to surviving and thriving an occasionally challenging year!

    New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
    New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)

    That means it’s time for a meandering year-ender… 

    Retrospective

    I’d like to jumpstart my retrospective with a positive personal milestone.

    Yesterday’s post, “New Year’s Eve”, was my 153rd post in a row, completing a 5-month streak of daily updates without missing a single day. It’s an impartial victory at this point with seven months still on the to-do side of the ledger, but it’s an accomplishment that underpins my optimism — indeed my confidence — that I can achieve my goal of 365 days of uninterrupted Rosslyn updates. (Wondering why one year is a significant benchmark? I’ll explain soon, I promise.) In broad strokes, this is beginning to feel like actual, believable progress toward resuscitating Rosslyn Redux, my multidisciplinary meditation on the *art of homing*. There are so many reasons why this is important to me, and I’ve poked at a bunch on them in recent months, but for now I hope you’ll just allow that this exploration, this inside-out creative experiment, this quasi crowdsourced inquiry, and the resulting nexus of artifacts and stories and visuals and poems and all of the esoteric marginalia that has accreted over the last seventeen years since Susan and I bought Rosslyn is meaningful. Heck, to be 100% candid, for me it’s not just meaningful; it’s vital.

    But enough heavy handed me-centrism. I’m flirting dangerously close to catharsis, so it’s time to lighten up. Time to imbue the balance of this post with effervescent toast-worthy bullet points like champagne bubbles rising giddily. Time for levity.

    But first, an aside. I’m trying to distill my year-ender into a positive, celebratory retrospective without slipping into a post-mortem review of some of the less celebratory events. For this reason I started with a little victory dance celebrating the Rosslyn Redux momentum. My re-immersion has been stimulating and it’s catalyzing all sorts of overdue transformation. For this I’m profoundly grateful. And I’m doubling down on my commitment to see this challenge through to its conclusion.

    There’s actually much more to celebrate, but to avoid overburdening this retrospective I’ll streamline my recap by simply listing and linking some of the most notable highlights. That way you can follow the links to more specific updates if you’re interested. And I’ll add a coming-soon placeholder in lieu of a link for those I haven’t yet covered. I’m hoping that this will keep things as lean as possible, because isn’t that always on our New Year‘s resolutions?!?!

    High on the happy news is the ongoing icehouse rehab. It’s been a looong fantasized vision (and an almost equally long unrealized vision) that involves rehabilitating the last of the four buildings we set out to revitalize back in 2006. And, in this case, there’s a self-serving motive fueling my push. I perennially pine for a writer’s “garret”, and at last the icehouse loft will become that sanctuary just far enough removed to allow me to spread my stacks and sink into my writing projects. I. Can’t. Wait.

    In addition to the icehouse rehab (and a writer’s hideaway), another biggy on the decade plus wishlist came tyre. In late winter off 2022 we finally invested in a high tunnel for the Rosslyn vegetable garden. It’s been a fascinating learning curve, and in a couple of months we’ll be getting it ready for another growing season with the benefit of one year already under our belts. Totally unrelated to gardening but similarly braided into the lakeside lifestyle that draws us to this remarkable property, we’ve made a change in our aquatic locomotion. You may recall that Errant, our 31′ sloop was sold in the hopes of replacing it with a slightly larger sailboat. Well, that plan was impacted by the attenuated pandemic which distorted the boat market and compelled us to stall long enough to deep-think our wants/needs. In short, our plans evolved significantly. Last summer we took delivery of a new 28′ Chris Craft launch that has become our entertaining and “picnic boat”, allowing our ski/surf boat to serve it’s proper purpose despite serving as our “everything boat” for years. This decision was part of sailboat shift as well. In a pretty significant reorientation we’ve been exploring the possibility of our future sailing adventures happening along the California, initially, and then possibly further north and south. This spring we’ll again sail on the west coast and continue to experiment with different iterations for our future sailing plans.

    But I’m drifting of course, so I’d better tack back toward Rosslyn.

    New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
    New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)

    Despite a disheartening debacle a year or so ago during our first foray into repairs on the Rosslyn’s boathouse gangway, the summer of 2022 marked a turning point. First came Patrick McAuliff‘s monumental transformation of Rosslyn’s front yard, replacing the overgrown, toppling arborvitae hedge with a handsome hemlock hedge. This quick summary oversimplifies (and leapfrogs a mysterious discovery), but I’ll unravel this yearn soon enough, I promise. 

    And then there was Rosslyn’s deck rebuild. This story had been evolving for a while (all the way back to TimberSIL). Most recently the same OPUD who cost us dearly on the boathouse gangway effectively hamstrung us on the deck as well. We retreated to Essex from Santa Fe earlier than normal to escape the worst forest fires in New Mexico history. With boathouse and deck in unsafe and unusable condition we began cancelling summer guests and plans…

    But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sidestepping into the post-mortem that I intended to keep separate. Back to the deck rebuild which is complete, sturdy as can be, and stunningly beautiful (Hurrah, garapa decking!). And better yet, the ingredients for this rebuild included an outstanding team of friends and family and former collaborators on projects like the ADK Oasis Lakeside renovation who coalesced at the last minute and quickly became a skilled, collegial, productive, and fun loving team. In fact, much of this team is what has now evolved into the icehouse team. 

    After the boathouse gangway’s false start, there’s good news on Rosslyn’s waterfront as well. After the deeply discouraging setback inherited from the OPUD, after dismantling much of their work in order to rebuild correctly (the verdict of every single contractor who evaluated the miscarried first attempt), and after painstakingly recreating the original conditions instead of perpetuating the errors inherited from the OPUD, we’re back on track with a capable, experienced team. Fingers crossed that the boathouse gangway will be good as new next spring! 

    And there’s sooo much more. But I’ve waxed wordy, and my update has gotten too long. So I’ll abbreviate boldly with that list I promised earlier. Better late than never.

    Trail building was advanced significantly with the hard work of Tony Foster, the guidance of John Davis, and the oversight of Pam Murphy. Rewilding progress was made, and thriving wildlife population documented. Tile and grout maintenance underway in bathrooms and kitchen by Clay Belzile. Stone wall reveal and landscaping at ADK Oasis Highlawn, and orchard restoration and stone wall rebuilding at ADK Oasis Lakeside. Too many contributors to these projects to list them all, but some notables were Bob Kaleita, Phil Valachovic, Patrick McAuliff, Roger King, Aaron Valachovic, and Tony Foster.

    Other highlights include excellent gardening assistance on all three properties by our incredibly hardworking Amish neighbors, re-homing the zero-turn and the truckling, and one of our best apple and pear seasons in the orchard.

    I’ll close with an admission that I didn’t succeed 100% in restricting my retrospective to the celebratory highlights. I drifted into post-mortem territory a couple of times. But, for now at least, I’ve edited out our unfortunate encounter with Covid, my father’s health upset, and Susan’s miraculous recovery from a life threatening tragedy this autumn. Today is a day to embrace success and optimism. And from the vantage point of January 1st even the most difficult challenges of the last year give me cause for celebrating success and renewing optimism. 

    Cheers to a glorious new year!

  • Boathouse Repairs 6: Northside Post Wraps Installed

    Boathouse Repairs 6: Northside Post Wraps Installed

    Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
    Supi Installing Northside Post Wraps (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)

    With the blizzard barreling into our neck of the woods, Peter and Supi hustled to wrap up installation of northside posts before snow stalls their progress.

    Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Supi Installing Northside Post Wraps (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    These photos give the golden-lighted illusion that work conditions down at the boathouse are temperate and eminently agreeable. Reality is a bit different, of course. Temperatures have been damp and cold. And working on a manmade peninsula out into chilly, windy Lake Champlain isn’t for the delicate.

    Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Northside Post Wraps (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    In the photo above the copper tops are as obviously absent as the railings. I had a “tin knocker” fabricate the copper tops almost a decade and a half ago. They’ve patinated handsomely in their demanding lakeside environment, and they’ve even endured a few dings from waterski fins, windsurfer booms, etc. over the years. So replace them, right? No way! We’re carefully removing the small copper nails that secure them, and we’ll reuse them once railings are in place. As if nothing ever changed!

    Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Boathouse Northside Post Wraps Installed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    Northside Posts Ready for Rails

    The northside posts are s assigned and ready for Peter and Supi to install the railings. The railing components are being fabricated — almost done — and following the posts to Willsboro where Erin is priming and painting the components prior to installation. Lots. Of. Steps. Have I mentioned before that it takes a team?!?!

    Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)
    Boathouse Northside Posts Installed (Photo: Peter Vaiciulis)

    That photo above shows new post wraps primed, re-sanded, and ready for another coat of primer. Then they’ll receive two coats of paint before being installed. Overkill, you’re wondering? Actually it’s future -proofing. An investment in longevity. Yes, historic rehabilitation is a perpetual balancing act between revitalizing the past and endeavoring to preserve these architectural artifacts well into the future. Onward!

  • Midwinter Mending

    Midwinter Mending

    Midwinter Mending: repairing boathouse railing, December 22, 2021 (Photo: Cheri Phillips)
    Midwinter Mending: repairing boathouse railing, December 22, 2021 (Photo: Cheri Phillips)

    Sometimes it seems words can get in the way of our will and our wants. Often even. Sometimes words blur or over-focus or misrepresent… But they’re what we’ve got. And so it is that my morning words today, “Midwinter Mending”, endeavor to broadcast my will and want without blurring or over-focusing or misrepresenting. Allow, if you will, that these words are optimistic and matter-of-fact. An apt title for a tiny clutch of poetry that, like a seed perhaps, might germinate and flourish.

    Midwinter Mending Haiku

    A tiny building on Rosslyn’s waterfront. A tiny poem on a tiny moment like a threshold — midwinter, mid-repair — captured in a snapshot from a close friend. Probably a phone photo. A delicately distorted photo, watercolor-like in it’s impressionist abstraction, not altogether unlike stained glass that offers a fresh perspective on the familiar.

    Friend’s ferry photo:
midwinter maintenance, mending
our boathouse gangway.
— Geo Davis

    I hope that this haiku will fertilize the Rosslyn boathouse rehab, accelerating its already delayed completion before Lake Champlain’s winds and rising waters and, possibly soon, her ice begin to battle with the dock house. I hope…

  • Icehouse Rehab 4.5: Foundation Collaboration

    Icehouse Rehab 4.5: Foundation Collaboration

    Icehouse Foundation Collaboration: concrete truck arrives
    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.

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

    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.

    Thanks to Pam, Hroth, and Tony for recording the photos featured in this photo essay

  • Deck Rebuild

    Deck Rebuild

    Deck Rebuild 2022: partial demo (Source: Geo Davis)
    Partial demo for deck rebuild (Source: Geo Davis)

    Time for an overdue deck rebuild update.

    Rosslyn’s deck has been the spring, summer, and autumn epicenter of sooo much living and laughter. This was the vision when we developed the original design program back in 2006-7, and it’s proven to be one of our best choices. A huge deck on the private west side of the house, imagined as an extension of the living room, screen porch, bar, and basically the downstairs living areas. Breakfast. Lunch. Dinner. Grilling. Cocktails. Working under the umbrella. Hanging out, socially distanced during the pandemic. Dumping wetsuits and bathings suits to dry in the sun. Hanging out with friends, dogs, birds,…

    We completed construction of the deck just shy of Christmas 2008, and it symbolically concluded the most significant phase of our Rosslyn rehabilitation project. It wasn’t the finish line, not by a long shot. But after two and a half years of major salvaging, preserving, rebuilding, and rehabilitating, the house was *mostly* livable (if not 100% complete).

    Deck Rebuild 2022: demo complete (Source: Geo Davis)
    Demo complete! (Source: Geo Davis)

    So, if completing the original deck less than sixteen years ago was so momentous, why rebuild?

    Long story short, the original deck failed. Not the garapa decking which performed admirably year-after-year. But the substructure. Given our proximity to the lake, we opted to use an *innovative alternative* to pressure treated lumber that promised weather resistance and longevity without releasing noxious chemicals into the water we drink, swim in, etc. Innovative in theory, but not in reality. The lumber started to check, shake, and twist before we even installed it, and it suffered premature rot within the first couple of years. (NB: I’ll be posting an update soon-ish about repurposing the original garapa decking!)

    Deck Rebuild 2022: lumber delivery (Source: Geo Davis)
    Lumber delivery (Source: Geo Davis)

    Deck Framing Culprit

    Rather than dwelling on the achilles heal that lamentably undermined the integrity of three critical substructures — Rosslyn’s house deck, boathouse gangway, and waterfront stairs — I’ll just say that all three experienced premature decay and rot of the structural lumber. And all three began to fail within a few years of construction. I’ll defer to other perspectives rather than bogging down in bad news.

    Troubles seem to be mounting for TimberSIL, a non-toxic alternative to pressure-treated lumber. (Source: More Troubles for TimberSIL – GreenBuildingAdvisor)

    And the following is actually the supplier who supplied the lumber to us.

    “It’s totally rotted out within four years. I’m talking rot. Total rot.” The lumber retailer in this case—Vermont’s Planet Hardwood—indicated that it stopped selling TimberSIL over increasing customer complaints and issues dealing with Timber Treatment Technologies. “… it became problematic,” said one of Planet Hardwood’s co-owners. “… we were starting to hear complaints that it was splitting in the field.” Of the firm, she said, “It was a nightmare dealing with them (Timber Treatment Technologies) and we ended up losing tons of money,” she added, according to The Daily Hampshire Gazette. (Source: TimberSIL Wood Product Tied To Allegations – Parker Waichman)

    And from the same source:

    A 2009 study conducted by the Oregon State University’s Department of Wood Science Engineering found that TimberSIL was “only slightly resistant to decay and would not be suitable for exterior exposures.” (Source: TimberSIL Wood Product Tied To Allegations – Parker Waichman)

    Starting to get the picture?

    30 homes in New Orleans’ Lower 9th Ward constructed by the Make It Right Foundation—perhaps most well-known as Brad Pitt’s rebuilding effort in the wake of Hurricane Katrina—need to have wood replaced to the tune of $150,000 over six months, as some of the homes are rotting on their outdoor steps and front porches. The product in question, TimberSIL, was specified as a chemical-free alternative to conventional treated lumber, and it came with a 40-year performance guarantee. According to TimberSIL’s website, the treated wood is a fusion of southern yellow pine and sodium silicate that is a “Class A Fire Retardant, insulator, unaffected by seawater, unaffected by heat, [and] barrier to rot, decay or insects.”

    The problem at hand is that just three to five years after installation in homes constructed between 2008 and 2010, the TimberSIL is showing signs of rot… “It was unable to withstand moisture, which obviously is a big problem in New Orleans,” Royle said. (Source: When Good Intentions Go Bad | ProSales Online)

    The concept of a chemical-free, glass infused alternative to conventional pressure treated lumber won us over. And regrettably it accelerated failure on all three locations that we used it.

    Because the substructures began rotting virtually immediately after construction, we spent a decade and a half chasing the problem, scabbing in new lumber, etc. But within the last few years the failure was beginning to outpace our ability to provide bandaids and we scheduled replacement. And then rescheduled due to unforeseen circumstances. By last summer we’d scheduled complete demo and replacement.

    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing (Source: Geo Davis)
    Starting the new framing, July 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

    Deck Rebuild 2021

    The adage “best laid plans” comes to mind. And since this chapter of Rosslyn’s deck rebuild story is shrouded in disappointment, I’ll offer only a tidy, relatively benign abstract and then get on to the good news (as there’s much more positive progress to celebrate!)

    During the summer of 2021 we allowed a carpenter to sweet talk us into entrusting him with the three previously mentioned problems. 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!

    The waterfront project was supposed to get underway last September and be finished by the end of October. Unfortunately, the contractor’s repeat mistakes, delays, unkept promises, non-communication, etc. rendered the boathouse virtually inaccessible and dangerous, but no closer to completion. Despite repeatedly reassuring us that the project would be complete on or before May 1 — yes, many months after the original deadline — he AWOL’ed in late April. After months of strained relations, the carpenter threw a temper tantrum with our property manager via telephone and then unceremoniously quit. Zero communication with us. And he never responded to my request for clarification on whether or not he was in fact abandoning his commitment or honoring the May 1 deadline that he’d repeatedly promised in recent weeks/months that he would “meet or beat”…

    Multiple contractors reviewed the abandoned project, but they all concluded that he’d made so many mistakes that they’d have to undo most of his work before they could continue. And, of course, everybody was absolutely slammed. Finally, a couple of weeks from now (and smack-dab in the middle of the original project timeline one year ago) a new team will begin to undo his damage and complete the project properly.

    Live and learn…

    But what about the deck? As explained that stalled because the preceding project stalled. So in late spring we asked Eric Crowningshield to have his team undertake a partial demo of the worst area to see if we could shore it up for the summer and then rebuild it in the autumn. Unfortunately, exploratory demo proved how pervasive the rot.

    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing (Source: Geo Davis)
    Deck framing July, 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

    Deck Rebuild 2022

    With this lengthy prologue behind, let’s look at the good news.

    Once we concluded that shoring up the deck temporarily (to get through summer 2022) wasn’t an option, Susan and I weighed disrupting our short summer in Essex with construction against putting everything on ice until autumn. We decided to wait. Minimize risky summer entertaining, avoid the gaping hole in the deck, and keep our fingers crossed that we would have better luck in the fall.

    That was our decision. At first. Until it changed.

    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing (Source: Geo Davis)
    Deck framing July, 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

    In a peculiar twist of fate that I’ll relate separately, our friend, Hroth Ottosen, a skilled carpenter with whom we’ve worked in Santa Fe decided to come east to discover life on Lake Champlain while tackling the deck rebuild. There is much to say about Hroth and about how this “crazy idea” came together, that really deserves its own space. Stay tuned.

    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing (Source: Geo Davis)
    Deck framing July, 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)

    And in another twist of good fortune Susan’s cousin, David McCabe, slotted for a weeklong family visit mid summer opted to extend his stay for about a month to join the deck rebuild team. David’s worked as a carpenter/contractor in the DC-area for decades, so you can you see where this is going.

    Deck Rebuild 2022: David framing (Source: Geo Davis)
    David McCabe framing (Source: Geo Davis)

    Susan’s high school friend, Ed Conlin, has been a frequent presence for sixteen years as we’ve rehabilitated Rosslyn and lived, laughed, and celebrated at Rosslyn. He decided to head up to the Adirondack Coast to join the burgeoning deck rebuild team, bringing to bear several decades of his own construction experience.

    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing (Source: Geo Davis)
    Deck framing complete (Source: Geo Davis)

    When these three decided to make it a work holiday, we knew we needed to be all-in to make this deck rebuild a success. Fortunately we were able to coordinate several of our local all stars into the mix.

    Suffice to say that it never would have happened without the able leadership of Eric Crowningshield and Pam Murphy. Underpromise. Overdeliver. Every time. These two are a formidable team in and of themselves. (Source: Leaf Stain Art – Rosslyn Redux)

    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing aerial (Source: Geo Davis)
    Aerial showing deck framing complete (Source: Geo Davis)

    Add to the mix Eric’s reliable, skilled, and hardworking team: Matt, Justin, Andrew, Jarrett, and Jason. Several of these guys had already helped with the early exploratory demo, and now they were ready for a full deck rebuild.

    And, last but definitely not least, Tony and Brandon Dumas.

    Tony Foster, who joined our team during the ADK Oasis Lakeside project, brought his perennially flexible, impervious-to-hard-work-and-scorching-heat endurance, and upbeat demeanor to the redecking project. And Brandon, our savvy problem solving electrician rounded out the team. (Source: Leaf Stain Art – Rosslyn Redux)
    Deck Rebuild 2022: framing aerial (Source: Geo Davis)
    Aerial showing deck framing complete (Source: Geo Davis)

    I’ve blathered on pretty long already, so let’s change things up and showcase some of the photos and videos I’ve posted during the deck rebuild. (Note: I’ll publish another post soon that just focuses on the garapa decking since that’s a whole different adventure…)

    Deck Rebuild 2022: garapa decking delivery (Source: Geo Davis)
    Garapa decking delivery (Source: Geo Davis)

    Photo / Video Essay

    The following Instagram posts offer a glimpse into the deck rebuild process. I’ll try to add a few more videos soon.

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cf9pOJ4A4T0/ 

    That little video betrays my exuberance in the early days of this project!

    https://www.instagram.com/p/CgJ1KioufYE/ 

    A little further progress, although the early steps were gradual, taking time for precise measurements and sound structure since it effects everything that comes afterward. 

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

  • Preservation by Neglect: The Farm in Cossayuna

    Preservation by Neglect: The Farm in Cossayuna

    The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1975 (Painting: Louise Coldwell)The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1975 (Painting: Louise Coldwell)

    Although long overdue, toooooo long long overdue, today I’d like to introduce The Farm in Cossayuna. Or reintroduce it, for those of you who’ve been with me for a while. I refer to it often, and yet I don’t usually contextualize my reference in any sort of useful manner. It’s as if I unconsciously assume everyone knows what I’m referring to when I weave The Farm in Cossayuna (aka “The Farm“) into a conversation, a blog post, a social media update. Why? Not sure. Maybe the omnipresence of The Farm as a defining point of reference in my own life?

    This upstate New York farm property figures prominently in the childhood memories underpinning my Rosslyn obsession. It was also my first experience of preservation by neglect. And judging from my most recent visit a decade ago, it looks likely that this once-again-woebegone holding may be depending upon the mercy of preservation by neglect once again. But I’ll flesh that out in a moment. First let’s fill in the backstory a little bit.

    One of the first (if not the first) mentions of The Farm on Rosslyn Redux was back in May 31, 2011 when this blog was still young.

    My parents, living and working in New York City, had purchased an 1840s farmhouse on 85 acres near 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)

    And a few months later on September 29, 2011 I returned to the same theme.

    My idealized notion of a country house had its roots in a small farm that my parents had bought in Washington County while still living in New York City in the 1970s. Initially a getaway for my recently married parents trying to balance life and careers in New York City and later, albeit briefly, a full time residence, The Farm underpins my love for countryside and provides my earliest childhood memories.(Source: Abandoning City Life)

    Sadly, I don’t know when this farmhouse was originally built but it was ours four about seven years. My mother confirmed this afternoon that they sold The Farm in 1977. And yet forty five years later I’m still dusting off memories and drawing upon The Farm’s wellspring of influence for my homing projects.

    Preservation by Neglect: The Farm

    If we contemplate The Farm in Cossayuna through the lens of preservation by neglect, there are at least two timeframes to focus on: the period prior to 1970 when my parents purchased the property, and the period after 1977 when my parents sold the property. Both are interesting, and I’d like to touch briefly on both.

    But first let’s refresh the idea of preservation by neglect. Although sometimes considered a conservation strategy, this invests it with a greater degree of intention than I suspect is usually the case. Often historic buildings deteriorate because they are no longer necessary or desirable, or they’ve become too difficult or expensive to maintain, or conditions have become too precarious or dangerous to attempt renovation. Entropy. In some cases this inevitable natural deterioration resulting from human inaction can help protect a building from alteration, demolition, etc. that might otherwise permanently alter, damage, or eliminate the underlying architectural or cultural heritage. In essence, these forgotten properties, are spared by virtue of being too far gone for convenient rehabilitation. Their neglect has in some (but certainly not all) cases leads to eventual preservation.

    The painting of The Farm in Cossayuna at the top of this post was made and gifted by Louise Coldwell, a next door neighbor and family friend. In my memory, that is the home I remember. Perhaps from the years of looking upon the painting, and perhaps because the romance of a house, a person, a view seems to win out when rendered in a painting versus a photograph.

    But when my parents purchased the property it probably looked a bit more like this black and white photograph (if you can use your imagination to pull three years of renovation away from the image.)

    The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1973 (Photo: Gordon Davis)The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, circa 1973 (Photo: Gordon Davis)

    I believe that the photograph was taken in 1973 by my father. The miniature portico over the front door has been removed (and replaced with an eagle) by the time the painting was made. But otherwise things look pretty similar. The near chimney looks like it could use a repointing (my memory takes me to a chimney fire in this small stone stack) and the roof’s ridge beam shows some sagging, especially on the right side. But all told, the house looks pretty good. My memory fails me in providing a proper assessment of the home’s condition when my parents purchased it, so I’ll see if I can tease it out of them. What I do recollect is the condition of the barns. They were in rough shape even then, though I’ll save those memories (and a few photographs from my 2012 return to the property) for another post focusing specifically on the barns. Spoiler alert: one of the large barns had to be torn down when I was still a baby…

    But let’s fast forward almost three decades and take a look at the house, albeit from a different angle, when I returned with my parents and an old neighbor in 2012.

    The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, Autumn 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)The Farm in Cossayuna, New York, Autumn 2010 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Following a community cider day at the one time home of Louise and Dwight Coldwell, we were fortunate to be offered a ride and an introduction to the new owner of our old house. Wilbur McIntyre, a dairy farmer who lived a couple of doors away, took us down the long wooded driveway to see the home and barns. We met the adult son of the owners and were invited to look around. Ostensibly undergoing some maintenance, the main door to the exterior had been removed and a blanket hung in its place. Chickens pecked around on the floor inside what had been our dining room once upon a time. We abbreviated our inside visit and returned to the yard noting some changes like a small pond that had been dug at the far end of the home. The barns, to my satisfaction, were still standing and in remarkably fine fettle for utility buildings clearly neglected for many decades. There’s something about a well built barn, even as nature punishes it relentlessly day after day, year after year.

    In some respect the outside of the house looks virtually unchanged. The sag in the roof is still visible, and there’s an even more pronounced sag in the single story addition at the far end of the house (the location of our kitchen in the 1970s). Inside the house appeared to be in a state of advanced disrepair, but for all I know we might have caught a thorough rehabilitation effort in the early phase. Perhaps today the interior is bright, sturdy, inviting, and the chickens are back outside in the yard.

    The Farm in Cossayuna

    I’ve talked elsewhere about the curious pull this house exudes upon me, but for now the matter at hand is how this property — neglected before and after my parents’ short stewardship — has endured so admirably, so unmuddled by “makeovers” and ill conceived additions. The existing addition I’ve already noted predates my parents’s purchase, and it is perhaps an architecturally unfortunate departure from the simple colonial bones of the house, and the windows were clearly replaced at some point, perhaps also prior to the period my mother and father loved this little home in the woods. In short, this property appears to have endured more neglect across the decades than preservation, and yet it endures. It affords a gentle optimism that even the inhospitable winters and the relatively moist year-round conditions are nevertheless allowing for this one-time farm to exist another year, another decade, perhaps another century.

    During this last visit to The Farm in Cossayuna Susan and I had already undertaken the brunt of Rosslyn’s ambitious 4+ yearlong rehabilitation. Work on the grounds was ongoing, and the 2011 floods had devastated the boathouse and waterfront, so we were once again working against the odds. In addition to salvaging the boathouse after about three months under water, we need to rebuild stone wall terracing, replant gardens, lawns, and trees. Rehab ad infinitum!

    Rosslyn, no longer being preserved by neglect, was now being historically rehabilitated with intention and determination. And to this day, our commitment has not wavered. The current boathouse gangway repairs and the icehouse rehabilitation project are only the two most current efforts to ensure that our stewardship of this historic property allows it to be enjoyed for generations to come. And yet we are well aware that our good fortune, the longevity and endurance of this stately property, is due in no small part to preservation by neglect, much as…

  • Teeter-Tottering

    Teeter-Tottering

    Teeter-Tottering: Should I stay or should I go? (Source: Geo Davis)
    Teeter-Tottering: Should I stay or should I go? (Source: Geo Davis)

    To borrow a turn of phrase from Shaye Elliott, “I’m teeter tottering between” being fully present in Essex and departing for Santa Fe, betwixt summer’s curtain call and autumn’s debut, between and betwixt scores of less-than-precisely delineated transitions.

    Should I stay or should I go now? — The Clash

    Fair warning: I’m mixing metaphors today. Like fusion cooking and creative cocktail concocting, I’m hoping that purists will forgive my transgression(s) and sample the experiment with an open mind.

    I’ve already shared a couple of quick riffs on the push-and-pull of seasonality, wrapping up the re-decking project, re-starting the boathouse gangway project, launching the exciting new icehouse project, and recovering from August 30 storm damage. I need to flesh out all of those transitions in fuller detail soon, but today instead I’ll touch on our autumn changeover from the Adirondack Coast to the high desert southwest with an unanticipated delay for COVID and a perhaps peculiarly drawn out rumination on teeter-tottering. Fair warning!

    Teeter-Tottering: Should I stay or should I go? (Source: Geo Davis)
    Teeter-Tottering: Should I stay or should I go? (Source: Geo Davis)

    Teasing Out Teeter-Tottering Metaphor

    I’m struck, I might add, by the strength of this teeter-tottering metaphor. The teeter-totter, a seesaw, with someone sitting on the other end, riding the teeter-totter seat down to the ground, close enough to toe-touch. When fortunate, bringing the soles of both feet to rest on the ground and bending knees to squat and push off, sending teeter-totter up into the air as a friend on the other end returns to the earth.

    I recollect that there’s another challenge (and distinct pleasure) to teeter-tottering as well. Sure, it’s exciting to tip one another up and down, but balancing is also appealing, both friends suspended in mid air, neither touching the ground, neither rising, neither falling. Equilibrium. Balance. A quivering stasis that requires focus and collaboration between both friends.

    Obviously the principal thrill of balancing on a teeter totter is that it’s incredibly difficult. And just as obvious is the indisputable fact that teeter-totter equilibrium is it best temporary. Eventually one or the other person will come back down to the earth, planting their feet on the ground, while the other will lift skyward. It’s impossible to postpone indefinitely.

    So if it’s obvious, why am I explaining it this way? I think that the allure of the teeter-tottering metaphor — at least for me, right now — is that it so perfectly conjoins otherwise dissimilar sentiments.

    I’m thrilled, exhilarated, and yet anxious about the abundance of thresholds upon which we are currently balancing. Certainly there’s a very real exuberance in the moments where we shed some gravity and float high. There are butterflies in the belly (and whirlwinds of worry in the belfry) when lofty ambitions come plunging down. But like that teeter-tottering youth of my memory, I often find that we’re endeavoring to maintain some fragile equilibrium, knowing full well that we can’t maintain it forever, and yet hoping to stabilize the teeter-totter for a moment, just another moment,… Or maybe a day? A week? This is not to say that we’re in denial about the inevitability of some pretty major transitions, but it speaks honestly about our hesitance in at least some cases.

    You’ve possibly noticed a parade of posts recently addressing the transitions and transformations that we’re navigating. I apologize for too often talking obliquely, speaking around the issue rather than addressing it directly. Sometimes that’s part of the process, I’m afraid. Sometimes the prologue serves the needs of the storyteller even more than the reader.

    In short, please bear with me. I recognize that not everybody enjoys teeter-tottering, so thank you for your patience, and in many cases, thank you for your generosity and advice and coaching.

    Know then that this curiously kaleidoscopic time and space we’re teeter-tottering through (I warned you about mixing my metaphors!) will yield to more candid sharing when the time is right, with updates aplenty including:

    • The exceedingly handsome garapa deck rebuild that was completed a few weeks ago.
    • The boathouse gangway rebuild v2.0 which we’ll be relaunching soon (or at least as soon as the new team can demo the dangerously misguided fiasco left behind when TFG finally admitted defeat and quit.)
    • The long anticipated icehouse rehabilitation and repurposing project that will get underway by the end of the month.

    With those considerably more interesting transformations in the offing soon, I’ll conclude this post with a slightly more personal teeter-tottering anecdote.

    Susan and I had prepared to depart Essex for Santa Fe considerably earlier this year than we habitually do. We’d invited some friends together for a last hurrah, and Susan had prepared impeccably as she does to enjoy a comfortable journey cross-country with our dog. And, given that our friend, Hroth Ottosen, would be mirroring our north-by-southwest migration as he returns from Santa Fe to Essex to take up residence at Rosslyn while we’re away (more on this including an introduction soon) our early departure was intended to allow comfortable breathing room between our departure and his arrival. But, as they say, the best laid plans…

    After exercising caution and safely eluding Covid for 2-1/2 years, Susan fell ill about a week prior to our departure. And within just under a week I followed suit. Although my recovery was fortunately quick, hers was not. In fact we were both startled with how much more pronounced her symptoms and how much longer the duration of her illness. If Covid affectively debilitated me for two days, it knocked her out for more than two weeks.

    Needless to say, our pre-departure fête and our travel plans were scuttled. Throw in Labor Day travel challenges, and we ended up postponing our departure even further. Perhaps this was the universe’s way of reminding us not to become overconfident in our planning, not to assume that we can orchestrate our way out of unpredictability, setbacks, and topsy-turvy crisis management that these times of transition typically engender. All this to say, the teeter totter tumbled!

  • 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.

  • Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? ⁣

    Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? ⁣

    Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? ⁣(Source: Geo Davis)
    Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? ⁣(Source: Geo Davis)

    In the days since publishing “What Makes a House a Home?” I’ve been fortunate to enjoy follow up exchanges with many of you. It seems that we all have some compelling notions of homeness! Thank you for reaching out and sharing your often personal stories. I’ve mentioned to several of you that I’d like to dive in a little deeper if/when you’re inclined. This inquiry is foundational to Rosslyn Redux, and I believe that the objective is less to answer the question and more to propagate more questions, to seed wonder and reflection.

    There are so many little forays into this residential quest, that I’ve decided to follow up with three follow-ups posts that intrigue me and that have been percolating with renewed vigor since sharing the previous post. I’ll jumpstart the three with a preliminary introduction of sorts, maybe more of a welcome, today in seeding the three questions as one. Is home a place, a feeling, or a relationship? ⁣I’m hoping to intersperse more narrowly focused posts on each of the three questions with progress reports on the icehouse rehab (It was a big day today!) and the boathouse gangway. And I’m hoping to hear from you if you feel moved to share your thoughts on any of the three. I suspect that many of us consider all three to be connected in some way to our ideas of home. More one than another?

    Is Home a Place?

    Obviously Rosslyn is very much a place. It’s an historic property in Essex, New York, on the Adirondack Coast of Lake Champlain. Pretty specific, right. Place, place, place. And to be sure much of what I showcase in these posts is a reflection on place, even the poetics of place.

    Two weeks ago I shared a tickler for this post on Instagram, a short reel offering an aerial view of Rosslyn that I filmed with my drone last summer. It feels meditative to me. Like a soaring seagull wondering, wandering…

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/ClB-1F8AFiK/

    I think for now, I’ll leave the question of home as place gently gyring in the updraft to be picked up again soon in another post.

    Is Home a Relationship?

    In the digital sketch / watercolor at the top of this post, the almost abstract blue green wash hopefully feels a little bit like a dream. Maybe a memory. Something fuzzy and abstract in my memory. It’s a barn, actually a barn quite near Rosslyn in the hamlet of Boquet. But it’s not necessarily that barn I’m depicting. It’s many barns including the barns at Rosslyn (carriage barn and icehouse) the barns at The Farm where I spent a few formative early years, and the barn(s) that I hope to one day, same day build or rebuild. In short, for reasons I’m still unraveling, homeness for me includes a feeling of an old, perhaps even an abandoned farm, with barns. More at that anon.

    Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? ⁣(Source: Geo Davis)
    Is Home a Place, a Feeling, or a Relationship? ⁣(Source: Geo Davis)

    Is Home a Feeling?

    Sticking with digital sketches / watercolors for a moment, that black and white image above was actually made a few years ago to represent Griffin, our Labrador Retriever before Carley. But like the barn, my rudimentary skills at representation allow it to merge into all of our dogs including Tasha, who we had before Griffin, and even Griffin-the-1st, a long ago predecessor and the namesake for our more recent Griffin. That’s a bit jumbled, but it’ll do for now.

    Why dogness as a way to explore homeness? Well, frankly, for me, part of the feeling of home is that it’s where my dog is. And when we’re migratory between the Adirondacks and the Southwest seasonally, our dog is with us, maintaining a sense of home even though we’re temporarily nomadic. More on that now soon.

    Is Home a Point of Overlap Place, Relationship, and Feeling?

    I’ll leave you with this follow-on because I find that it’s surprisingly challenging to tease apart the elements of homeness. Intrinsic to all three, is my beautiful bride, Susan. She is my home in a way that embodies place, relationship, and feeling. What about you?

  • Redacting Rosslyn v2.0

    Redacting Rosslyn v2.0

    Boathouse & Sailboat, September 22, 2020 (Source: Geo Davis)
    Boathouse & Sailboat, September 22, 2020 (Source: Geo Davis)

    Thwumpf! That’s the sound of a decade being swallowed whole (like a tidy-but-tasty amuse-bouche) by Rosslyn. Or by entropy. Maybe both. Ten sprawling, glorious years after pushing a post entitled Redacting Rosslyn v1.0 out into the universe I’m back on track with Redacting Rosslyn v2.0.

    Yes, that’s a fairly ridiculous incubation period. A half dozen years of enthusiastic belly button gazing followed by an ellipsis that lingered so long it almost vanished like an old sepia photograph too long exposed to sunshine. Only ghostly shadows and faint silhouettes remain on the curling yellow paper.

    But this interstitial reprieve was fecund. An abundance of living and laughter, family and friends, dreams and memories germinated, blossomed, and fruited in Rosslyn’s nurturing embrace. So much life.

    Evidently I needed this Rosslyn experience in its voluptuous complexity to begin to disentangle my story.

    Interstitial Adventure

    Renovating Rosslyn *was* an adventure. Writing and editing Rosslyn Redux *is* an adventure. And Redacting Rosslyn is an interstitial adventure tucked into the folds of both, at once familiar and unfamiliar. And it demands new methods and rhythms, new risks, new exploration. In storytelling and writing, silence and white space are as important as voice and words. (Source: Redacting Rosslyn v1.0)

    That wordy bundle first wandered into the world in Redacting Rosslyn v1.0. Little did I understand at the time how clairvoyant those words would be. Nor these conclusions that I teased out of a hand-me-down from Irish writer Kieron Connolly via Avery Oslo.

    Each new work is unique, and its creation may well require different routines, different methods and habits and rhythms than previous creations. This will to adapt the creative process per the needs of each new creation is not only more realistic than the systematic, procrustean assembly line model, it’s more exciting. Each new creative experience should be an adventure. A journey. An exploration. This is what makes creating and telling a story so damned interesting! (“The Need for Flexibility)

    Connolly stressed the need for flexibility.

    “There are many ways to get from start to finish.” — Kieron Connolly (Source: Kieron Connolly’s Newspaper Novel-Plotting Game)

    In fact, that was one of the challenges for me. Relating Rosslyn’s rehabilitation story, intertwined with our own attempt at revitalization.

    The key is to allow each project to be its own thing and deal with it in the way it ought to be dealt… (“The Need for Flexibility)

    Sixteen years after plunging into renovating Rosslyn we are RE-renovating (house deck and the boathouse gangway and stairway) and finally tackling the looong postponed icehouse rehabilitation. Sweet sixteen. But that’s just the tip of the proverbial iceberg. Not because there’s a lot more building going on. But because there’s another significant transition in the offing, a transformation wrapped up inside this re-renovation and rehab. I’ll be opening up (hopefully with some thoughts from Susan) in the weeks and months ahead. It’s going to be a big year — no, potentially a few big years — for us. And Redacting Rosslyn v2.0 is in many respects possible because of (and inextricably tied to) our next new adventure. More on that anon, but for now allow me to say that it’s time for a fresh perspective, a new objective, and an urgency that didn’t exist in the early days of this adventure. And I’m confident that at long last I am moving forward again..