In keeping with the modesty of our Amish neighbors, this morning I would like to offer an understated but respectful nod to the family who have been helping us maintain and nurture Rosslyn’s grounds over the past year. No personal portraits and no names. No website and no Instagram handle. But plenty of respect and gratitude to the kindhearted, hardworking men and women who help empower our stewardship of Rosslyn’s ample responsibilities and resources as well as groundskeeping at our ADK Oasis Lakeside and ADK Oasis Highlawn guest accommodations.
Among the Amish: One Horsepower (Photo: Geo Davis)
I’ll allow these images of horse and buggy to stand in for the individuals whose disciplined humility belies their industry, tenacity, and spirited nature.
We’re grateful to our Amish community for assistance nurturing Rosslyn’s organic vegetable, fruit, and flower gardens; our holistic orchard and vineyard; and 60+ acres of landscape.
[…]
One nearby Amish family has been trafficking between our properties, learning quickly what each garden, each plant, each property needs. (Source: Amish Assistance)
Pam’s gratitude for their mettle and endurance is especially notable, as circumstances have obliged her to evolve her business in an increasingly administrative and organizational capacity. Juggling a half dozen properties within our extended family (as well as additional properties for other clients) and project managing demanding construction projects for us leaves little opportunity for gardening, orcharding, landscape maintenance, wood splitting, and countless other chores that our Amish friends have willingly taken on.
Among the Amish: Buggy & Barn (Photo: Geo Davis)
Amish Buggy Haiku
Air conditioning even when the horsepower is pausing to graze.
There’s something slightly pastoral, slightly romantic about the buggy and barn snapshot above, and perhaps the haiku as well. And do I close with another gratitude, for life and work among the Amish offers this additional perk. Recalibrating and picturesque, their welcome presence and participation affords us opportunities to pause and contemplate a life lived differently from our own. And oh-so photogenic!
Heck of a homecoming my frosty ferry ride into Essex two weeks ago on January 25. Damp-cold. Socked in. Snowing. I was dropping in for team time, scope shuffle, timeline tuneup, perspective pivot, and a revitalizing dose of laughter with friends.
Frosty Ferrying (Source: Geo Davis)
Team Time
As I’ve often touted, teamwork is the first, second, and third priority for us today and every day. When our crew is collaborating and collegial, progress is usually swift and morale is buoyant. But when team dynamics falter, for any reason, it’s usually evident even from afar. Headway stalls and morale suffers. But the cause (often) and the remedy (almost always) demand a closer inspection, an immersion in the daily doings and conversations.
So when forward motion on the icehouse rehab began to slow and spirit suffered, it became clear that I needed some hands-on team time to understand and improve the slide. And frankly, swapping video meetings and phone/text threads for in person, sawdust in the air, boots on the snowy ground, chalk line snapping, and overdue discourse dumping was enticing and necessary.
Scope Shuffle
Personnel particulars won’t be part of this post since who does what, when, where, why, and how is Susan and my concern. Teams coalesce around a common cause, and when necessary, teams adapt. Sometimes the cause shifts; sometimes the team shifts. My time at Rosslyn enabled me to ensure a clear understanding of the needed change(s) not just from my geographically challenged perspective, but from the diverse perspectives of the members of the team. What’s going on? What needs to change? Sometimes these reorganizations are awkward and uncomfortable, clarity elusive. But in this case there was broad consensus about what had been hampering progress and what would restore progress.
Within a week of my arrival we remapped the coming weeks and months, shuffled incremental scopes of work, and made a few adjustments to the plan to better account for the new vision (and to accommodate a few tweaks that became clear to me being onsite that hadn’t been so clear in plans and photo/video updates.)
Frosty Ferrying (Source: Geo Davis)
Timeline Tuneup
Today and yesterday I’ve been massaging the new scopes of work into the calendar. Roughly halfway through our start-to-finish timeline in terms of actual months allotted and permissible (October 2022 through May 2023) but less than halfway through the scope and schedule, the days and weeks ahead will require a significant uptick in productivity. For my part, that demands a thoughtful timeline tuneup that makes sense to Pam (project manager), Peter and Eric (carpentry leads), Ben (plumber), Brandon (electrician), and everyone else on the team. It is imminently doable. But careful coordination, clear communication, and steady productivity will be critical.
There’s still some sourcing and sorting to complete. The map forward is apparent, but the individual journeys and when/how they are sequenced is still firming up. In the mean time, collective confidence and enthusiasm appear to be rebounding.
Perspective Pivot
It’s worth noting that a perspective pivot — mine as well as everyone investing their time, expertise, and passion — is actually a really important part of any project. It’s altogether too easy to settle into a pattern, allowing vision and expectations to narrow, simply bumping forward from one day to the next. We all do it sometimes. And yet we all benefit from voluntary and even involuntary disruption that challenges us to think differently, to dilate our our vision, to alter and amplify our expectations. Team dynamics are never static. They can feel static. For a while. Until something disrupts collegiality or workflow.
I’m feeling reinvigorated by what was an unanticipated and unfortunate disruption in our team dynamics. I know that everyone on the team similarly desired and endeavored to avoid the eventual disruption. But the change catalyzed over the last few weeks is dramatic and profoundly positive. Our individual and collective perspective pivots have reawakened our sense of purpose and our confidence in the ability for the team to accomplish the rehab in a timely manner that will make us all proud.
Laughter with Friends
No sojourn to the Adirondack Coast would be complete without at least a few friends gathering. I’d initially tried to limit social time during my stay because the punch-list was ambitious. But the universe has her own ideas, and we’re wise to pay attention. I was reminded how fortunate we are to be part of a community that is thick with good people — smart, creative, cordial, civic minded, and caring — and despite my speedy sojourn I was able to share some meals, cross-country ski, laugh, and catch up with some of the many who enrich our Adirondack life.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CoZ1pmDAvi_/
Moody Midwinter Mashup
With all the warm-and-fuzzy updates top loaded, it’s time to acknowledge the moody vibes of the video above (if you can’t see it, try loading the URL in a new browser tab). My midwinter mashup isn’t an artistic feat by any estimate, but the black and white sequence, shot for the ferryboat upon approaching Rosslyn’s boathouse on my way from Charlotte to Essex, really does feel like what I was feeling upon arriving. And the less-than-perfect weather conditions emphasized the mood over the first 36-48 hours. Fortunately the weather improved and talk time with the team (and friends) restored the levity I usually associate with a return to Rosslyn. That said, it feels important to acknowledge that it’s not always rainbows and bluebird skies, neither literally, nor metaphorically. Sometimes life shades into shades of gray, and we have to cope, to come together creatively to restore the technicolor lifestyle we love.
Frosty Ferry Crossings
I’ll close with an acknowledgment that a frosty ferry crossing may not be the picture perfect memory that we conjure when relating the joys of community by ferryboat, but I’ve experienced so many meaningful moments just like this. Rainy, snowy, stormy,… The imperfect moments shape us as much as the sunny ones.
Special thanks to Rob Fountain whose February 27, 2015 photograph in the Press Republican deftly captures these sorts of experiences.
With temperatures below zero and a brisk wind, a Lake Champlain Transportation Co. ferry pushes through icy waters heading for Grand Isle, Vt., Tuesday from Cumberland Head. For many cities in the Northeast, it was the coldest February on record, and some places recorded the most days of zero or below temperatures. (Source: Press Republican)
“You’re right. We both could have careers,” she said. I nodded. “But could we really live full time in the boonies? Where the closest healthy supermarket is in Vermont, a ferry ride away?”
“I could. I have.”
“Maybe I could… Our friends here lead great lives, right?”
“Right.”
“They have so much more to talk about than work and kids,” Susan said. She described conversations with our friends in the city and suburbs inevitably veering onto the strains, calamities and milestones of parenting. “Nannies, babysitters, nutrition, education, play dates… I mean, I do love our friends’ kids. I love seeing their personalities and their interests and their abilities changing, but I’m so tired of the perpetual kid chatter. I’m sick of everyone griping that their lifestyles have been kidnapped by childbearing and then – in the same breadth – imploring us to have children, assuring us that it’s the best decision they ever made.”
We enjoyed spending time with children. I had taught middle school and high school students for a half dozen years and genuinely missed the daily interaction with teenagers. But long before we were even married Susan and I had decided that we would not have any children. Our insatiable appetites for wandering the globe and our tendency to hyper fixate on each new personal and professional endeavor, comprised less than ideal ingredients for child rearing.
“Our friends here are different.” Susan had the spirit now. “Even the ones who have children have so much more to talk about…” Her words came fast and excited. I turned on the hot water to warm up the tub. “They’re passionate about politics, the environment, the health and viability of the community. They’re enthusiastic about improving the world around them. They’re so much less concerned about financial success, about how big their homes are, how green their lawns are, how stylish their wardrobes are. They’re cultured. They’re well educated. They’re well informed. They love animals. They’re athletic. They’re outdoorsy… Can you turn that off? It’s burning my leg.” I turned off the hot water, and Susan resumed her monologue about the merits of our North Country friends and their lifestyles. Smaller communities resulted in greater civic involvement, she opined. “They join the boards of local non-profits. Or they start their own organizations. They participate in local government…”
“Susan?”
“They’re environmentalists, writers, doctors, teachers, lawyers, artists, realtors, yoga instructors. They’re entrepreneurs and architects, camp directors and farmers…”
“Susan, I’m with you. I understand. I agree.” She stopped talking and smiled. “You don’t need to lecture me on why we admire our friends’ passion or their choices to live intentionally. Or their abilities to balance meaningful work with quality of life. I’m on board. It’s admirable. We’re on the same page.”
“It’s just, the more I think about it, the more I realize I’d love to move here.”
“And the more you talk about it, the more I worry that your perspective’s a wee bit idealistic. No? A little too saccharine? A little too much MSG?”
Susan laughed. “Maybe.”
“I mean, don’t get me wrong. I love the North Country tableau you’re describing, but I don’t want to…”
“I know.”
“You do? What?”
“You don’t want me to be disappointed if it doesn’t measure up.”
“Partly, and I… Listen, I really do like the idea of living up here, for a while, at least. But I don’t want you later to feel like you did it for me, like I talked you into it, like I misrepresented it or something. Does that make any sense?”
