Tag: Essex Community Heritage Organization

Historic Rehabilitation

Once upon a time—starting in about 2005 or 2006 and concluding about a dozen years ago, if memory serves—I was on the board on Historic Essex (formerly Essex Community Heritage Organization, ECHO). Todd Goff, a fellow director, Essex neighbor, and friend, took it upon himself to correct me, differentiating for me “historic preservation” from ” from “historic rehabilitation”. I no longer remember the context, but I expect I was updating him in 2006 or 2007 on our progress in the early days of our mushrooming renovation project. Armed with a keen mind (and master’s degree in preservation), I respected Todd’s knowledge and appreciated his clarification. I expect that I used renovation, restoration, and preservation interchangeably in those days, never stopping to consider the profoundly important differences.

I most likely had not used the historic rehabilitation at all prior to that point, and learning more about it opened my eyes, ignited my curiosity, and kindled my imagination. More on fanciful end of the spectrum anon. For now I’d like to delineate for you historic rehabilitation as I understand it. (And please note that if you, like Mr. Goff, are able to advance my instruction, please advise in the comments below. Thanks in advance.)

J.C. Coatsworth Residence (Antique Postcard)

Preservation vs. Rehabilitation

Less stringent than historic preservation, historic rehabilitation emphasizes maintaining the historic integrity of architectural heritage while balancing its relevant functionality for modern day use.

Both preservation and rehabilitation are sensitive to the imperative of preserving the historic character and value of a resource, but modern functionality weighs more heavily in the case or the latter. When an architecturally significant resource is abandoned or in advanced stages of disrepair, both approaches are viable means of saving and revitalizing the resource. Likewise, both can be complex, painstaking, lengthy, and expensive processes. In fact, sometimes the scope exceeds the means and/or justification for revitalizing a property, and all too often valuable architectural and cultural heritage is indefinitely neglected and eventually lost.

The potential for integrating modern functionality (and therefor relevance) into an historic property can be the difference between its recovery or it neglect.

Sherwood Inn (Antique Postcard)

Defining Historic Rehabilitation

Rehabilitation is defined as the act or process of making possible a compatible use for a property through repair, alterations, and additions while preserving those portions or features which convey its historical, cultural, or architectural values. (Source: U.S. National Park Service)

In short, historic rehabilitation (rehab) is the process by which an historic property is returned to a state of usefulness while maintaining its historic character. Starting out with a comprehensive analysis of the cultural and/or architectural heritage ensures a solid foundation for planning the entire rehabilitation process. Drawing upon the collaborative expertise of diverse professionals, rehab must be tailored to the unique character and historic significance. Ranging from minimalist repairs and overdue maintenance to more involved intervention such as modification to ensure structural integrity, installation and/or removal of windows and doors, and even construction of non-historic additions.

Boathouse with Coal Bin on Pier (Antique Postcard)

Rosslyn’s Historic Rehabilitation

From those early days as Rosslyn’s newest stewards, when Susan and I were still running on dreams, optimism, and a totally unrealistic sense for the magnitude of the project we’d undertaken, our twin objectives were to preserve the immense heritage we’d inherited while ensuring that our new home was a functional, energy efficient modern home attuned to our needs and lifestyle. Todd helped me understand that what we were undertaking was indeed an historic rehabilitation, and that paradigm shift that he initiated catalyzed a shift in my thinking not only about our revitalization of these four historic buildings, but indeed the entire ethos underlying our pivot from Manhattan to Essex and own own personal reawakening. But I’m getting ahead of myself…

Boathouse with Ruins of Pier in Foreground (Antique Postcard)

Historic Rehabilitation Resources

Rehabilitation as a Treatment and Standards for Rehabilitation (U.S. National Park Service)

Illustrated Guidelines for Rehabilitating Historic Buildings (U.S. Secretary of the Interior)

January 19, 2023
Essex Horse Nail Company in Essex, New York

Welcome to my gallery of Essex Horse Nail Company artifacts. I’m intrigued by artifacts that offer a window into bygone Essex heritage and buildings such at the Essex Horse Nail Company which once stood proud and productive on the site of present day Beggs Park.

During the endless process of rehabilitating Rosslyn, I have assembled a vast treasure trove (“treasure” in my odd opinion, at least!) of Rosslyn artifacts and miscellaneous relics related to Essex, Lake Champlain, and the Adirondacks.

While resuscitating Rosslyn, we have discovered lots of local artifacts, relics, memorabilia and esoterica. And — a bit like archeologists poking through ancient midden heaps — we have deciphered and guessed the relevance and context of rotting lineament bottles, wallpaper shards, yellowing postcards, etc. Our burgeoning collection of Rosslyn artifacts, Essex artifacts, Lake Champlain artifacts, and Adirondack artifacts comprises a veritable “digital museum” of curated collectibles all directly or indirectly related to the historic William Daniel Ross home in Essex, New York. (Rosslyn Redux)

Many of the Essex Horse Nail Company artifacts in this gallery have been showcased at Essex on Lake Champlain, the community blog for Essex, New York. I’m perennially on the lookout for local artifacts that help fill a visual and informational void, so if you are aware of additional Essex Horse Nail Company artifacts that I’m missing, please let me know. Thanks.

Essex Horse Nail Company Gallery

Essex Horse Nail Company in Essex, New York

The Essex Horse Nail Company was located on Beggs Point… It manufactured nails for horse shoes… for almost two decades until the factory was destroyed in a fire in 1918.

“Later 19th century industry on Beggs Point included Essex’s only factory building, first occupied by the Essex Manufacturing Company to 1877, then by Lyon and Palmer blind and sash manufactory until 1879, followed by the Essex Horse Nail Company Limited from 1880 to 1918, which in 1885 employed 60 or 70 hands.” (Essex on Lake Champlain by David C. Hislop, pg. 55)

As the factory was only in operation from 1880 to 1918 that dates that photo to some point in or between those years. After the fire the area was barren, and in the 1920s the area was landscaped into Beggs Park which remains public green space today. (Source: Vintage Photo: Essex Horse Nail Factory | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Factory in Essex, New York

Essex Horse Nail Factory… burned in a fire that destroyed the factory in 1918 (which date the photo to that year or prior). After it was gone the area was turned into Beggs Park which remains today. Learn more about its history here. (Source: Vintage Photo: Horse Nail Factory | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Company Factory in Essex, New York

Robert Hammerslag: ECHO and/or the ECHS did an oral history project back in the 70s. It was headed up by Betsy Tisdale. One of the tapes was a recollection of the fire. I am sure the tapes must be available. I can see the Fire Dept, Ross Store, Community Church and maybe the Noble Clemons House at the upper left.

Todd Goff: Bob, a quick search shows c. 1973 tapes of, “Rev. Stephen F. Bayne of Essex, N.Y. talks about the horseshoe nail factory fire in Essex in 1918.” are in Potsdam Library and Blue Mtn Lake. I will look up at HSX. for them too. Thanks for the heads up. It would be good to digitize them.

Robert Hammerslag: Yes, unless it has already been done, it would be good to digitize those old cassette tapes while it’s still possible. They could be forty years old!

David Hislop: The Essex Heritage Center featuring the Essex Town Historian Office which…has had this audio tape of the Reverend and visuals playing on a feature loop. Stop by to see it and learn more! (Source: Vintage Postcard: View from Steamer of Essex, NY | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Company Factory in Essex, New York

Another postcard was submitting to us by Todd Goff after he saw us share the above postcard. Thank you very much for adding to our digital collection!His postcard reads, “Steamboat landing of the Lake Champlain Transportation Co., at Essex on Lake Champlain, N.Y.” This postcard shows us an alternate view of the same scene. The photo is looking north up the lake and we can see the side of the Horse Nail Factory in the center of the image along with other facets of this section of the Essex waterfront at this time. (Source: Vintage Postcard: View from Steamer of Essex, NY | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Company Factory in Essex, New York, circa 1909.

According to the back of the postcard the photo was originally published by “J.S. Wooley, Ballston Spa, NY.” In the center of the photo we can see the old horse nail factory that burned down in 1918. Take a look at other postcards featuring this factory for a better look and to learn more. This building being present here tells us the photo was taken before 1918. As “25.8.09” is written on the face of this postcard we can assume that this may have been the date (August 25, 1909) the postcard was created or possibly the date it was sent… (Source: Vintage Postcard: Essex from Lake Champlain (1909) | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Company/Factory located where Beggs Park is today.

Dianne Lansing: That’s the Horseshoe nail factory on the right…one of several in the photo that are no longer there…

Katie Shepard: This Essex lakefront view does have the old Horse Nail Factory to the right, which burned in 1918 and the location is Beggs Park today… The postage mark is a little hard to make out but I believe it matches the date written out, which reads: “9/22/09.” […] The back of the postcard also tells us that the publisher is “W.H. Cruikshank” in Essex, NY. The name has appeared as the publisher on several of the old postcards that we’ve shared on the blog. (Source: Vintage Postcard: Essex Lakefront Scene | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Company Factory (Source: Susie Drinkwine via Essex on Lake Champlain)

The church steeple in the center is the Essex Baptist Church and to the far right the tall object (tower? pipe?) is part of the Essex Horse Nail Company‘s factory. Both are now absent from the town due to fire which destroyed the church in 1943 and the factory in 1918, which dates the photo pre-1918. (Source: Vintage Photo: Essex Waterfront with Nail Factory | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Essex Horse Nail Co. Factory in Essex, NY

This week we’re happy to share this black and white photo dated to about c. 1900-1910… I believe I see the part of the old Horse Nail Factory on the far right of the photo. Do you agree? (Source: Vintage Photo: Essex Waterfront | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Rosslyn bathhouse, boathouse, and the steam yacht, Kestrel, are center foreground, the Old Dock is center background with Essex Horse Nail Co. Factory at far left. (Source: Shirley LaForest via Essex on Lake Champlain)

Although Rosslyn’s bathhouse, boathouse (and the Kaiser family’s steam yacht, Kestrel) occupy the center foreground, the Essex Horse Nail Co. Factory’s smoke stack is just visible at the far left of the Old Dock (center background).

Horse Nails and Crate from Essex Horse Nail Company / Factory (Source: Dianne Lansing via Essex on Lake Champlain)

This photograph popped up in my Facebook feed about a week ago, posted by my neighbor Dianne Lansing with the following description.

“A special gift from a very dear friend. It’s an original box of horseshoe nails made at the Essex Horseshoe Nail Factory which was located at what is now Beggs Park.” ~ Source: Diane Lansing, Facebook, March 14 at 9:16pm

Situated on a commanding promontory overlooking Lake Champlain, the Essex Horse Nail Company occupied the site of several earlier industries. The Essex Horseshoe Nail Factory burned long ago, so it’s veiled in a bit of mystery. (Source: Essex Horse Nails | Essex on Lake Champlain)

Envelope from Essex Horse Nail Co., Limited in Essex, New York, circa 1898.

I spied this intriguing artifact in an eBay auction. It’s a canceled envelope for a letter, invoice, something… sent from the Essex Horse Nail Co., Limited in Essex, New York on August 16, 1898 (year cited in eBay auction, though I’m unable to verify) to Mr. D. J. Payne in Wadhams Mills, New York. (Source: Essex Horse Nail Company and Wadhams Mills » Rosslyn Redux)

My “doodlebomb” of the Essex Horse Nail Company including the enterprise’s logo (top center).

While researching and illustrating the Essex, New York Architecture: A Doodler’s Field Guide I “doodlebombed”several vintage images of Essex landmarks including the Essex Horse Nail Co. Not much of an artifact? Sorry!

July 7, 2016
Champy Spotted at Essex Ferry Dock (circa 1980?)

Champy spotted at Essex ferry dock?!?! Once upon a time…

Champy Spotted at Essex Ferry Dock (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)

I’m gambling that it was around 1980 for no reliable reasons except the look and condition of the Old Dock Restaurant, the presence of ice shanties on a throughly frozen lake with no ferry canal, and the incredibly well executed snow/ice sculpture just north of the Essex ferry dock. It’s this last one that triggered a cascade of memories and lead me to hope that the photograph was taken by Jan Peden around 1980. More on that in a moment.

I make no effort to disguise my enthusiasm for hyperlocal ephemera and other artifacts, especially yesteryear photographs and other representations of our fair village. So you just might be able to imagine my excitement when I received this message from friend and neighbor, Kathryn “Kathy” Reinhardt.

Sorting papers and I found two Essex postcards you might like. One of the Split Rock lighthouse with a postmark and message from 1910. The other card was not used and shows the snow covered ferry dock with a frozen Champ swimming alongside. Photo is by Jan Peden; card was published by ECHO.” — Kathryn Reinhardt

I’ll get to the historic image of the Split Rock Lighthouse in a moment, but let’s pause a moment to appreciate the legendary Lake Champlain monster (aka “Champ”, “Champy”).

Champy & Nostalgia

I’m hoping that this post might rekindle community memory enough to learn who helped sculpt this superb likeness of our favorite surviving dinosaur. The uninitiated may remember Champy from the Sid Couchey painting/illustration of the friendly monster cavorting off the end of Rosslyn’s boathouse. I shared it waaayyy back on April 27, 2012, so it’s say it’s time for a resurface.

Champy in front of Rosslyn’s boathouse (Art: Sid Couchey)

Ostensibly a cousin to the Lock Ness monster, our Lake Champlain mystery monster is considered a myth by some, a fundamental fact by others. Happy hour sightings along the lake’s waterfront apparently offer particularly plausible viewing opportunities, though I’ll admit having never witnessed the friendly fellow (or is Champy a she?).

I suggested earlier that my instinct to date this postcard photograph sometime near 1980 derives from vivid memories of the years prior to and after the 1980 Winter Olympics which took place in Lake Placid. I was a boy, so my memories are likely ripened with nostalgia, but it seems that there was community-wide embrace of winter in those years. Likely catalyzed by preparations for the Olympics and then the afterglow, it seems that there were abundant winter happenings — toboggan runs, outdoor jogging contests, cross country ski races, skating rinks, fish fries with freshly caught smelt, and snow sculptures — that drew people outside into the out-of-doors from community revelry. I remember competing in a cross-country ski race on the Westport Country Club golf course, and “red nose runs” in Elizabethtown. I remember fish fries at the old Westport beach, and the most horrifyingly thrilling toboggan chute down the hill and out onto the frozen lake. I believe that much of these memories are clumped around an annual midwinter event that was called the Westport Outdoor Weekend (WOW). And one of my favorite parts of this annual festival was the snow sculpture contest. Homes throughout the area competed for the bet snow sculpture. We used to drive around and admire them all. I believe I recall the Valley News even showcasing winners some years. And so this flood of nostalgia underpins my suspicion that this handsome facsimile of Champy might date to those years.

It’s interesting to me that the postcards, produced by ECHO, drew attention to the Essex-Charlotte ferry pier and history of service without a more inclusive mention of the Essex waterfront or the handsome snow sculpture!

Back side of Champy at Essex ferry dock postcard (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)

Split Rock Light

Let’s turn now to the second postcard that Kathy sent me. Although I and others usually refer to the historic lighthouse presiding over the dramatic geographic promontory jutting out into Whallons Bay as the Split Rock Lighthouse, I’ve notice this older references, especially the further back into history they fall, refer to it as Split Rock Light. That’s neither here nor there, but I find those little linguistic shifts intriguing.

1910 postcard depicting Split Rock Lighthouse (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)

I recently shared an almost identical postcard of the Split Rock Light, likely created from the same source photograph. The coloring, layout, and captioning differs between the two, but I imagine both images were late at the end of the 19th or beginning of the 20th century and then repurposed. It’s a compelling angle, especially because this same view today is less open. Here’s the postcard that I published on November 21, 2022.

Split Rock Light, Essex, NY (Vintage Postcard)

It’s fun to flip back and forth between the two images to see what’s similar and what differs. Back in November I was struck then as well by how thinly forested the Split Rock Light grounds were at the time.

The historic lighthouse located at Split Rock in Essex, NY reigns over a promontory bearing a curious resemblance to an arboretum, more landscaped and less wild than today. A copse of diverse specimen trees here, a granite outcrop there, a grassy bluff here,… I can’t help but see a sort of Split Rock botanical garden. (Source: This is Not a Metaphor)

That notable difference with the same location a century or so later vies for my attention, but so too does the message on the reverse of the postcard that Kathy sent.

In many respects this is the most formulaic, most universal postcard missive. We’ve all read (and possibly written) versions of this, right? But there’s a personal pleasure in the final two lines:

Having a delightful sail on this. — B.H.

As a boater in general, and a sailor in particular, this subtle sign-off hooks me. So often Susan and I spy this beautiful, historically significant spot by boat, and often by sailboat. So even though B.H. mostly went through the motions in the message area of the card, the fading memory of a sail on Lake Champlain, indeed on the enchanting broad-lake-to-narrows transition, appeals to my romantic imagination.

Back side of 1910 postcard depicting Split Rock Lighthouse (Photo: Kathryn Reinhardt)

I’d best conclude this post (definitively in need of an editor!) before I wander too much further afield. And yet I can’t resist acknowledging that one of the great satisfactions of these artifacts is not just the bridge across time, but the invitation to meander. To wonder and wander. And this post is proof that meandering is a favorite pastime for yours truly.

Thank You, Kathy!

This Rosslyn blog and the Essex community blog have been meaningful projects in large part because they have catalyzed a sort of community crowdsourcing, gathering all sorts of curious anecdotes, memories, stories, renderings, and relics from current and past members of Essex and environs. Any time I receive a message like the one that Kathy sent, my heart skips a beat. My anticipation builds and builds until the meeting or the phone call or the email or the letter completes the excitement provoked by the initial “teaser”. And so I close off this post with a holiday hug (stretched by distance but invested with bountiful gratitude) for Kathryn “Kathy” Reinhardt.

Kathryn Reinhardt preparing to “polar plunge” on May 1, 2016 (Photo: Geo Davis)

I hope she’ll chuckle good-naturedly at this fun photo that I took a half dozen years ago. It perfectly captures her perennial joy, her contagious laughter, and her warmth. I couldn’t resist mentioning this last 100% accurate description of Kathy’s character because she’s about to take an early springtime plunge into Lake Champlain in the photograph. Brrr…

December 15, 2022
Autumn Vibes
Autumn Vibes ⁣(Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Sugar maples ablaze between the orchard, gardens, and barns. What a season! ⁣Thanks, Pam, for capturing the autumn vibes from this fun vantage point in the nearest of Rosslyn’s meadows.

Although leaf peeping fiery fall foliage is inevitably and justifiably the cynosure this time of year, autumn vibes are aroused insubtler ways as well.

Ripe apples and pears in the orchard. Grapes trellised along the fence line. Blueberry bushes blushing crimson. Squirrels hustling acorns into their winter larders. Deer, emboldened, arcing easily over the fence to forage the gardens and orchard. Canada geese chattering south in protean Vs, settling onto the lake or into the fields for the night…

There are so many transitions to mark this mature season.

And this year we have a new ritual this year: re-covering the high tunnel after months of open air gardening. New scissor doors will make air circulation and cooling convenient in the coming weeks when daytime solar gain can still be significant. And with a hint of good fortune we may even extend our growing season later than in the past. New experiment. New territory. New optimism. And the always new but familiar autumn vibes of light frost followed by heavy frost — gentle warning followed by mortal barrage — whittle dramatically away at the vegetable garden’s viability. But with the high tunnel it just might look a bit different this year. We hope so.

Autumn Vibes Haiku
```
Early the ash turns,
now maples and blueberries,
succession of leaves.
                — Geo Davis
```
So recently I shared a still-ripening vision of autumn, similarly infused with lyric longing and luminescence, but less resigned, less resolved, perhaps less poignant. In “September Twangs” the micro poem wasn’t puerile, but it did sing with the intoxicating twang of exuberance and curiosity. The poem above, though a mere sliver of a season, nods to the inevitability of fall’s flourish fading. If the earlier haiku was a ginger, matinal perspective, a youthful perspective when autumn was just arriving, this October haiku is less twang and more the sound of fireworks fading. Perhaps a sonic boom echo-doppling into the forests and hills, perhaps a casdade of delicate cracklings decaying downward, twinkling sparks like celestial petals falling free of their blooms, bending toward gravity’s seductive beckon, then fluttering toward the placid lake’s watery mirror.
October 22, 2022
Persimmons & Seasonality
Fuyu Persimmon (Photo: Geo Davis)

I’ve waxed whimsical on autumn before, and I’ve celebrated wonder-filled winter aplenty, but what of the blurry overlap between the two? Well, today I’d like to pause a moment betwixt both current seasons. Or astride the two, one foot in autumn and the other in winter. To borrow a morning metaphor from my breakfast, let’s pause for persimmons (as a way to grok — and hopefully embrace — our present seasonality.)

What?!?!

For the time being let’s sidestep the vexing fact that almost a dozen years into cultivating three persimmon trees in Rosslyn’s orchard we’ve never produced a single edible persimmon. Instead let’s look at persimmoning in terms of this morning’s sweet and sour, ripe and rotten persimmon episode.

Fuyu Persimmon, Sliced (Photo: Geo Davis)

I’ve been monitoring two pretty persimmons in the fruit bowl. I’ve been checking them daily for ripeness. Firm, firm, firm, less firm, slightly supple, soft, ready! Or so I thought this morning. I lifted the first much anticipated fruit in the lightless shadows of 5:00am. If felt perfect. I gathered the second and grabbed a small cutting board. I prefer to allow my mornings to illuminate naturally, calibrating by circadian rhythms holistically, so I generally avoid turning on the lights, even this time of year when 5:00am is still shoe polish dark. As I prepared to plunge a knife into the first persimmon, I detected something unsettling. The slick surface of the persimmon had a fuzzy spot about the size of a quarter. I turned on the light, low, but enough to show that I’d missed my moment with the persimmon. It was rotten. Moldy. Both. I’d literally been checking daily, often lifting both fruit from the bowl to examine them, but somehow this previously perfect fruit had suddenly become rotten. The second fruit showed not fuzzy rot spot. I carefully cut out the leafy stem, and sniffed the inside of the persimmon. Perfection. Somewhere between the consistency of gelatinous custard and viscous liquid, the persimmon was divine.

Fuyu Persimmon, Sliced (Photo: Geo Davis)

At this point seasoned persimmon aficionados are aware that I’ve been recounting an experience with hachiya persimmons (rather than fuyu persimmons), and the photos portray the latter. You are correct astute reader/persimmon connoisseur. And as my prologue likely betrays this morning’s experience was not well suited to photography. But it did remind me of a previous persimmon apropos of the actual topic I’d expected to explore in this post (but have so far mostly skirted.) And that memory, of a similar morning anticipating and then partially enjoying a persimmon is what lead me to these photographs. Why partially, I can hear you think. I partially enjoyed that persimmon, a fuyu persimmon, because the first few slices were ripe and delicious. But partway though the small fruit the sweet turned to astringent. And this puckering experience is a sure sign that the fruit is not yet fully ripe. Now, lest I’m misleading you again, I’m sorry to say, the photographs in this post are not of that persimmon either, though they are, in fact a fuyu persimmon. And, as a discerning eye might note, this photographed persimmon was delicious throughout.

So why all the persimmoning? The memories of this morning’s fruit and the part ripe, part unripe fruit a year or two ago, offer me a glimpse into the sort of autumn-into-winter transition we’re in right now. Almost ready, almost ready, over ready! And sometimes ripe and unripe at the same time. And, as I understand it, persimmons are often culturally associated with joy, good fortune, and longevity. I am hopeful that our present season change, still in limbo, but creeping closer and closer to that transition from autumning to wintering, from autumn vibes to winter vibes, might — like persimmons in the best of circumstances — may portent joy, goof fortune, and longevity for the rehabilitation projects underway in the icehouse, the boathouse, and our home.

1-1/2” ZIP System insulated panels reading for installation (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)

Willing Winter Away a Little Longer

There’s something meditative about this time of year, a marginal meditation on interstices, on the span between autumn and winter, harvesting and larder hunting, biking and skiing, Thanksgiving and Christmas,… This liminal space is tied with winter-to-spring for most dramatic transitions in the circle of seasonality. And yet some years, this year, the switch is far from binary. There are moments when we appear to be on the crux, the hinging moment between the most abundant season and the leanest season. And other moments we’re currently in both concurrently. Ripe and rotten. Well, not rotten, really, but in terms of exterior carpentry, the going gets exponentially more challenging once snow arrives and temperatures plunge.

And so, for a while longer, we’re willing winter away. Tomorrow we’ll be installing the first round of spray foam insulation inside the icehouse, and we’ll *hopefully* begin installing the ZIP System paneling outside the icehouse. In other words, we’re getting really close to having the icehouse ready for winterier weather. The boathouse isn’t really winterizable, however, and temperate conditions are a huge boon as we forge ahead. At the risk of temping fate I’ll admit that it’s almost as if nature is holding her breath, stalling between autumn and winter. With luck, we’ll be able to take advantage of a little more borrowed time. But she can’t hold her breath forever, and we’re all aware of that…

Autumning: haiku
```
Contented, hearthside,
contemplating afternoon,
crackles mesmerize.
```
This non-harvest, autumning haiku was born of Carley‘s lethargic mid-morning siesta by the fireplace. Contentment, canine style. It’s a tough life.

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

Wintering: unhaiku
```
Between blushing vegetation
and gingerbread outbuildings,
what name for this season?

Hustling pre-hibernation and 
melting flurries with breath,
what post apple appellation?
What pre skating designation?

I echo my own refrain again
into the autumn interstices
ringing with wintering song.
```
Willing Autumn Linger Longer

Like ripening persimmons, the transition from unripe to overripe happens whether we’re watching for it or not. Likewise fall vibes have been exiting gradually, and winter’s stark contrasts have been insinuating themselves into the autumnless voids. It’s inevitable that winter will arrive, and it will be glorious in its own right when it does. But here’s hoping fortune smiles upon us a little longer, that we can dwell in this construction-centric liminality for another week or three. Or right up until Christmas!
December 4, 2022
Tempest & Terroir
Tempest & Terroir (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)

It’s time for a tumble into tempest and terroir. And so I return to storms and dirt. To dirt and storms. More specifically I revisit that sudden, destructive blast that crashed through the Adirondack Coast between Westport and Essex back on August 30, 2022. (See “Storm Damage” for the gory details.) And then I fast forward to our recent dirt work, sculpting and regrading a portion of the almost century old clay tennis court back closer to what it *might* have looked like two centuries ago. (See “The Art of Dirt Work” if you’re undaunted by dirt and clay and raw site work.)

Tempest & Terroir
```
A derecho, they said.
A straight line blast, they said.
A microburst, they said
in the hours after.
I'd watched at the front door
forehead hard against
sharp-edged muntins pressing
elliptical tattoos
into flesh above my brows.
Moments later, panting,
I stood in the screen porch
looking west toward the barns,
filming the angry minutes,
prolonged, distorted minutes,
while the sky blackened
and rain blurred horizontal
and leaves — at first, just leaves
and then clusters of leaves
and then whole branches —
streaked horizontally, 
southeast to northwest,
no gravity just a fierce force
ripping through our lake life
as crazed and decisive
and mesmorizing and efficient
as a runaway subway train.
Later, still spongy earth
gaped in the failing light
like a mute maw anguished,
roots unanchored, failing,
drip-dripping muddy tears 
in a disinterred void.
Silence now except for
moisture's music drumming,
a chorus of water 
drops and weeps and seeps,
melancholy melody
foretelling the dirt work
now underway, today,
two months after the storm.
Excavator guided
by imagination,
plans, words, hasty field notes,
and the dexterity
of shrewd operators
slicing precisely and
scraping layers of sod,
then soil, then clay away.
Worry wells within for
savage scars unsettle,
whether microburst rought
or man and machine made.
But Rosslyn's fertile ground —
robust, resilient, and
memory of ages —
will nourish and nurture,
lifting lofty notions
and simplest seedlings
from rudiments and seeds
to safe sanctuary
and towering glories.
```
Goût de Terroir

Let’s chock this post up to poetic license. Sometimes poems (and sometimes stories) are more effective than nonfiction prose, I find. Hopefully some of you will grasp what I’m grappling with, the tenuous connections I’m making, the profound faith in this healing property that has, since 2006, guided us through transition after transition.

Why poetic license? Well, for one thing the French idea of “terroir” (literally soil or earth) is usually used in reference to wine, specifically the aroma and flavor profile as derived from the environment within which the grapes have been grown and, more loosely, the wine produced. So the idea as used by those of us who enjoy wine usually encompasses the geographic location and characteristics such as soil composition, climate, and topographical siting. I think it’s fair to extrapolate from this usage a broader albeit agricultural application of the term, but I’m trying to amplify the idea a bit further. Needless to say, this poem is still a work in progress…
November 2, 2022
Icehouse Rehab 7: Window Apertures

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Justin framing double hung windows. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)

It sure is fun to see the three double hung windows emerging on the north elevation of the icehouse. And the three fixies above. And the three fixies on the south elevation. And the freshened up window aperture in the southeast corner, opposite the new bathroom in the small anteroom (once framing, well, and everything else, is complete.)

I’m talking about window apertures. And the transparency that all of the new windows (and doors) will bring to Rosslyn’s icehouse. The transformation will be dramatic!

Icehouse Window Apertures: Matt fine-tuning framing for “fixies” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

With the north elevation becoming so porous, the team added plastic weatherproofing to ensure that an early December storm doesn’t punish us. In the photo below, you can see the in-between stage that probably should have appeared before the first and second photos above, the progression from opening up the sheathing for the three double hung windows and the three small fixies above.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: covering up new apertures (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

This time of year we’re working on borrowed time, racing winter, keeping our fingers crossed that temperatures and moisture will remain within a favorable range. But, we’re also realistic. And practical. Better safe than sorry!

Icehouse Apertures: Matt fine-tuning framing for “fixies” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Keeping with my out-of-sequence chronology, I’ll double back again. This time to Matt putting some of the finishing touches on those upper windows. When everything is said and done, these three small window apertures will echo those in the carriage barn stables visible from the west and northwest, adding a handsome cohesion between the two buildings. And they will augment the transparency that is fundamental to this repurposing project. Just as the west wall is transforming from a solid first story and a small service opening on the second story (ostensibly to help pack in the ice?), to a window-filled, view-filled gable end, we’ve integrated a constellation of windows in the northwest section of the north elevation, dramatically shifting the transparency of the interior.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Justin opening up the new double hung windows (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Again out of sequence, the photo above and the next one below offer some insight into the process. The team first framed in the window bucks from within the icehouse. Once everything was secure, they cut through the two layers of existing sheathing and the “air gap” which is filled with shredded newsprint insulation (all original to the icehouse) to open the apertures.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Justin tuning up double hung window framing (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

To the right of Justin (in the photo above) you can see the third double hung window and the three small windows (“fixies”) above framed and ready to have the sheathing cut out.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt manning the mitre saw (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

All six window frames have been cut out in this photo. Jarret, cutting framing material with the mitre saw, is bathed in natural light even though all six apertures are covered in semi-opaque plastic. Try, if your imagination is feeling nimble, to imagine those apertures a few months from now. The large, lower openings will receive six-over-six double hung windows that can be opened to allow a nice breeze to enter on the north side of the building. And the three small windows above are the non-operable square “fixies” that echo the stable windows in the carriage barn.

Although the drama today — at least in terms of apertures and fenestration — is found on the north elevation of the icehouse, there’s also some headway being made on the south elevation.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Jarret fine-tuning new “fixie” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

The new fenestration in the western portion (open area of icehouse with vaulted ceiling) repeats the high (clerestory) windows windows from the north façade, albeit with slightly different spacing. This southern exposure will introduce plenty of natural light to the principal space in the icehouse while editing the view of the carriage barn. Although these new apertures will not result in the same elevation transformation as the north side, they will significantly augment the natural light and the transparency.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt cutting out sheafing from new window (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Although windows will not be installed until spring, we have the ability in the short term (before exterior paneling is installed) to preview the inside-outside blurring — or would that be, outside-inside blurring?!?! — that we’re hoping to accomplish by introducing so many apertures into this small building.

And one more window is now ready for temporary paneling and spring installation of new casement. In the southeast corner of the building, directly to the left upon entering from the east, an existing window has been reframed and replaced with a matching but high efficiency Marvin window (that will be installed in duplicate on the north elevation, one in the same location as previously but now located in a bathroom, and another in the new mechanical room).

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: shoring up window framing for existing aperture (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

For those of you familiar with the building as it stood prior to this remodel, that aperture is unchanged.

Icehouse Apertures and Transparency: Matt and Zack framing new window (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Although the location (and window design) remains the same, Matt and Zack are fortifying the window buck to ensure exact location and structural integrity.

In my last icehouse rehab update I caught you up on the internal window framing. Now we’ve taken the full leap!

There are still two windows in the north elevation the need to be framed and open, and then there are all of the hight level windows in the two gable ends of the icehouse. This latter project will take place after first phase of insulation and subfloor installation (both scheduled for next week) so that staging can be set up to work so high up. Updates will be forthcoming…

In closing, a heap of gratitude to Pam, Hroth, Tony, Eric, Matt, Zack, Justin, and Jarret. Have a great weekend!

December 2, 2022
Low Lake Levels + Crib Dock Reflections
Crib Dock more and more exposed in front of Rosslyn boathouse. (September 12, 2016)

Whether you call it climate change, “nature’s sense of humor”, or something else, Lake Champlain’s water level is raising eyebrows. Back in 2011 we experienced the highest lake levels in recorded history. Five years later lake levels are flirting with the lowest record.

The highest recorded level at the gage in Burlington was 103.27 feet above mean sea level on May 6, 2011.The minimum lake level observed in Burlington was 92.61 feet above mean sea level on December 4, 1908. (Source: USGS Lake Gage at ECHO)

As of today (September 14, 2016) Lake Champlain is 94.07 feet above see level. Lake Champlain has dropped just over four feet since this spring’s not-so-high high, and an annual drop of about five feet (from spring to late autumn) is normal.

In other words, we’re unlikely to break the all time record for Lake Champlain’s lowest recorded water level, but it’s not impossible. And yet, record-busting aside, this is by far the lowest lake levels we’ve witnessed since purchasing Rosslyn, and by far our best chance to study the old crib dock extending out into the lake from Rosslyn’s boathouse.

Crib Dock Brainstorms

When we first imagined ourselves living at Rosslyn, we mostly daydreamed about the waterfront. And while the boathouse was the most enticing component of the waterfront, the former docks/piers interested us as well. We’re avid boaters, and we hoped that one or the other of the old crib docks would be recoverable so that we could enjoy convenient access to our boats.

Although neither of us can quite believe it, a decade has already snuck past since we first took ownership of Rosslyn. Ten years of gradual renovation, revitalization, rehabilitation,… And yet, many of the projects on our original punch list continue to be deferred.

For a variety of reasons restoring one of Rosslyn’s historic docks has eluded us so far. But this summer’s incredibly low water level has resuscitated our hopes that one day we’ll be able to transition from the aluminum docks we’ve been using to a refurbished crib dock pier. In recent weeks my imagination has been running wild, scheming up simple, practical solutions to the challenge of repairing a failing/failed crib dock.

I’ll post again with more detailed photographs of the crib dock in front of boathouse since it’s the most recently extant of the historic piers, and I will also find older photographs of the dock to better show what it used to look like. Until then I’d like to share some intriguing excerpts from a story produced by Brian Mann for NCPR back in December 1, 2014, How a North Country family harnessed an Adirondack river. Mann took an insightful look at a dam on the St. Regis River that was rebuilt by Wadhams resident and hydropower guru, Matt Foley, along with his brother-in-law, and nephew.

While the St. Regis crib dam is an altogether different beast than the crib dock in front of our boathouse, both are simple but sound timber and stone structures that post similar reconstruction challenges. I’ll share my current idea anon, but first I offer you several relevant riffs from Mann’s story.

Historic, Hyperlocal Crib Dam Rebuild

With the temporary coffer dam (on the left) diverting the St. Regis River, a local crew laid in a crib of tamarack logs stuffed and weighted with rock and boulders. (Source: NCPR)

This summer [2014], a family that owns hydro-dams in Essex and Franklin counties rebuilt the historic log dam [in St. Regis Falls] using local labor and materials. Using 19th century techniques, the Smiths and the Foleys preserved a dam that generates power and creates an important impoundment on the St. Regis River…

“We went to old books [Emmett Smith said]. We went to books from the turn of the century about how you build wooden timber crib dams.”

The last couple of years it was clear this structure needed to be replaced entirely after decades of floods and ice, partial repairs just weren’t cutting it any more. The family tried to find financing for a concrete dam, but that would have cost three or four times as much and the money just wasn’t there. So they went back to tradition, using native wood and stone…

Building the dam this way meant they could use local materials. But they could also use local guys. Crews from the North Country built the big stone coffer dam to divert the river while the log dam was rebuilt. They milled the big tamarack logs and hauled the rock…

Emmett says building this way was necessity. “Us doing it together and building this log structure in a traditional way is pastoral, but we didn’t do it this way for the poetry of it. It was a question of cost. This is the only way we could do it. This was the cheapest way we could do it. It had to happen now and the price of power is so low that this was the only way it was going to get done.”

[…]

There was a time when they did consider letting this dam go. There were so many hurdles, so many risks, and so little certainty of reward. But Matt Foley says rebuilding was important for the family and for the community of St. Regis Falls.

“This dam has a pond that’s six miles long with twelve dozen houses on it and big wetlands,” he says. “So in addition to our generating plant, the town people here have a vested interest in having a dam here.” (Source: How a North Country family harnessed an Adirondack river | NCPR News)

Takeaways

I’ve promised to share my current thinking (as well as some past/present photos) soon, but for now I’d like to close by highlighting a few points that resonated with me.
- a traditional (i.e. “old school”) repair/rebuild would be preferable to a new dock;
- even a quasi-traditional hybrid would preferable to replacing historic crib dock with a modern alternative;
- local lumber, stone, and labor would be more historic, more aesthetically pleasing, more affordable, more positively impactful to the community, etc.;
- pastoral and practical are not mutually exclusive; and
- we’ve almost been convinced to give up hope of rehabilitating Rosslyn’s crib dock because there are “so many hurdles, so many risks, and so little certainty of reward”, but we’re not ready to abandon the dream.
I’m still brainstorming, and each time I settle on a possible solution, I’m beset with further challenges. If clever ideas are swimming in your heard, chime in! I’d love to learn from you.
September 8, 2016
Icehouse Rehab 6: Framing Windows

Hroth Framing Windows in Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

Although sourcing and designing the new windows and doors started this summer, the order wasn’t finalized until late autumn. Rosslyn’s icehouse is a small building, but there were many details to dial-in before production could begin. Precise pitch of the roof (echoed in several windows) and structural integration with windows and doors (especially in the west elevation where the fenestration-to-wall ratio is atypical) were among the challenges that delayed the process. But once the deposit was paid our focus shifted to framing windows.

Icehouse Window Framing Plans with Notes (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)

Starting with the north elevation, the constellation of six windows — three small upper windows echoing the horse stall windows in the carriage barn and three, six-over-six double hung windows, templated from the majority of the windows in the carriage barn — has been framed in. Especial gratitude to Hroth and Eric for jumpstarting this process so that cladding, siding, insulating, electrical installation, etc. can soon follow. Window framing would normally be an exciting step toward natural lighting, but given the lengthy production time on our windows and doors, the rough bucks (window and door framing) will serve as opaque placeholders for a few months longer.

Video Mashup of Framing Windows

Time for a quick zip through framing windows — precisely the first six windows — in the icehouse.

https://www.instagram.com/reel/ClGfJ26Av7v/

Hat tip to Hroth and Eric.

November 20, 2022