Daybreak: Lake Champlain sunrise through “wavy glass” in late August, summertime slipping through the hourglass. (Source: Geo Davis)
Since my earliest Rosslyn intrigue, wondering if the house and property might one day become a home for us, daybreak was my fixation. Perhaps it was just my lifelong affinity for early morning. As an early riser dawn has long been my favorite time of time, a world of possibility… Perhaps it was just curiosity what Rosslyn would feel like, look like, wandering room-to-room early in the morning. Although the front hallway was still in decidedly unfinished condition when we first visited, I imagined the walls painted a pale yellow, transporting the sunrise inside, warming the house with the brightening day.
Daybreak Discernment
This summer has been marked with singularly spectacular sunrises (and sunsets), and I’ve written much and often about these liminal states. This morning, however, catching sight of daybreak through wavy glass in the front parlor, I was struck concurrently with two thoughts.
The wave-rippled surface of Lake Champlain was refracting dawn’s beacon, distorting the beam of fiery orange sunlight into a row of burning “puddles” that wavy glass in the parlor windows was further altering into a dancing mirage. Searing reality transformed into a optical illusion. I was reminded that Rosslyn has often altered my way of seeing and experiencing.
These summer days are filtering faster and faster from anticipation to happening to memories. Just as the fleeting illusion of fiery puddles or bonfires or — pushing possibility to it’s breaking point — fiery cairns guided my eye to the rising sun, wobbling up out of Vermont’s Green Mountains like some hallucination, almost as quickly mellowing to a buttery yellow before vanishing altogether in the cloud bank above, just as quickly this summer is reaching its conclusion.
And these bittersweet realizations, as if coupling and procreating, gave birth to a daybreak haiku.
A window view early on a Sunday morning. A blazing daybreak. Wavy lake and wavy glass. Near, familiar silhouettes framing a veritable mirage. Dawn within. Dawn without.
A Jeroboam of gratitude to Kasey McKenna and Karly McKenna for their exceptional accomplishment repainting the entrance hallway. It looks superb! The lighting in the picture above doesn’t do justice to the work in progress, nor now that repainting the entrance hallway is complete. Lighting was poor. And the intention was just a quick progress report. Ditto for this next photo.
But I’ll be snapping some additional photos soon, hopefully with dramatic morning light illuminating the front hallways downstairs and upstairs. Until then, here’s a quick video walkthrough.
Late last August I reflected on the morning light in the front hallway, shared a moody morning photo as well as this warming shot that I took July 8, 2019.
Morning Light, Front Hallway, July 8, 2019 (Source: Geo Davis)
The mood and energy of this photograph perfectly conveys the opening moments of the daydream that I relived countless times in [late 2004 through early 2006 during] the extended prologue to our acquisition of this home. Although the interior of Rosslyn’s front hallway was in decidedly rougher shape during our early visits to the house…, I imagined it looking — and even more importantly — feeling just like this. (Source: Morning Light, Front Hallway)
I accompanied the photos in the post with a haiku, falling back on my Pollyanna confidence that poetry somehow captures what words and lenses overlook.
Needless to say, I remain a believer in the poetics of place. The following excerpt follows from the same morning rumination.
When Susan and I decided on paint colors, I pushed for yellow. She wasn’t particularly keen. I no longer recollect what color she desired, but my yen for yellow was quite simply a yielding to this daydream. My imagination had confected a morning vibe that needed to be experienced in reality. Not a particularly compelling argument when horse trading with Susan over design decisions, but I ultimately prevailed. Trim we agreed on early throughout the house. Beach hardwood flooring, the period chandelier and wall mounted lighting, the rug, the art,… all of these were joint decisions. But the yellow walls remain a point of disagreement even now. In fact, we’re considering a change, and given her willingness to accommodate me for the better part of a decade and a half with faint yellow walls in both halls, I’m inclined to yield at last. (Source: Morning Light, Front Hallway)
And this brings us to the present. Or just before the present when I agreed that it was Susan’s turn to pick a new color since we’re overdue for repainting the entrance hallway.
Fast Forward to Monterey White
She sent me this list of preferred colors, carefully chosen to complement the color of the stair treads (Benjamin Moore‘s Clarksville Gray) that lead upstairs (as well as the hallway floor upstairs.)
Susan’s Benjamin Moore Sample List (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
She had agreed to meet me partway by allowing that the new color not be a complete departure from the pale yellow paint that had lived in my mind for a couple of years and on the walls of both the first and second floor hallways for the better part of a decade and a half. This list represents her compromise. So off to the paint store I went for samples.
Benjamin Moore Paint Samples (Photo: Geo Davis)
The next step was to paint some swatches onto the walls alongside the trim and the downstairs beech flooring.
Sample Paint Swatches for Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Although I’ve manage to crop out the flooring inadvertently, the swatches still capture the wide range in tones and hues. Here are the swatches on the mid-flooring landing, adjacent to the Clarksville Gray floor.
Sample Paint Swatches for Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Again, not the best photos, but you get the point.
It’s worth noting that there was general consensus around Monterey White which is second from the left on the upper row of swatches in the image above. It is the second from the right on the lower row in the preceding photo. You can see that it has some of the warmth of the yellow (albeit without much of the yellow and a generally grayer cast). Here it is in Benjamin Moore’s color chip, adjacent to the Clarksville Gray which we all agreed was an agreeable combination.
And the Winner is… Benjamin Moore’s Monterey White (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
In the video above, the finished paint job is in fact somewhat reminiscent of the old color. Granted, Pam shot the video on a gray day which and low light. The result emphasizes the gray hue. But several of us, upon watching the walkthrough, commented on how similar it appeared to the previous color.
A closer inspection during the cutting in process however captures the significant change.
Repainting Entrance Hallway with Benjamin Moore’s Monterey White (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I look forward to watching the space fill with early morning sunshine soon. How much will it rekindle the nostalgic daydream? Or will it feel like the departure that Susan has long anticipated? I’ll share an update soon…
Morning Light, Front Hallway, August 20, 2022 (Source: Geo Davis)
Ah, that morning light… Long before we purchased Rosslyn, before we’d even had any realistic discussions about purchasing Rosslyn, and before I personally had wrapped my mind around the possibility of Rosslyn becoming our future home, before all of this, I began experiencing a recurring daydream.
If you imagine a daydream to be a bit like a film, the sequence started in Rosslyn’s front hallway. Actually, the sequence started upon entering the hallway, as if from the kitchen door. It’s early in the morning, dawn illuminating the interior, chasing shadows into corners. Tasha, our labrador retriever, accompanies me as I step into the hallway, carrying a cup of coffee, steam rising to my nose. I linger on the way toward the dining room, pause a second, two seconds in the buttery warmth, to witness a whole new day arriving at this exact moment.
The photograph above, taken one week ago, last Saturday at 6:23am, is for all practical purposes that opening moment in the daydream. There are some notable differences like the actual art, carpet, light fixtures, and other furnishings. But these are incidental. The mood and energy of this photograph perfectly conveys the opening moments of the daydream that I relived countless times in the extended prologue to our acquisition of this home. Although the interior of Rosslyn’s front hallway was in decidedly rougher shape during our early visits to the house (photos in an upcoming post), I imagined it looking — and even more importantly — feeling just like this.
I’ve been a “morning person” for, well, forever. I rise early. I do my best thinking early in the day. My wellspring of motivation and energy is most notably in the first few hours after I awaken. And, all things considered, morning just make me optimistic.
So it’s not particularly strange to me that one of my earliest points of connection with Rosslyn was a morning memory of an experience that had never actually taken place. Frankly, Susan and I did visit Rosslyn for almost two years before deciding to make an offer, but we never visited early in the morning prior to purchasing. So the material for this daydream was conjured out of desire and various tidbits gathered during non-morning visits. Apparently my unconscious curiosity and desire was pining for early morning, alone with my dog and a hot cup of coffee (another anomaly which I’ll touch upon elsewhere), to witness the intimate arrival of morning in the home’s entrance hallway (and dining room, another return-to-later detail).
When Susan and I decided on paint colors, I pushed for yellow. She wasn’t particularly keen. I no longer recollect what color she desired, but my yen for yellow was quite simply a yielding to this daydream. My imagination had confected a morning vibe that needed to be experienced in reality. Not a particularly compelling argument when horse trading with Susan over design decisions, but I ultimately prevailed. Trim we agreed on early throughout the house. Beach hardwood flooring, the period chandelier and wall mounted lighting, the rug, the art,… all of these were joint decisions. But the yellow walls remain a point of disagreement even now. In fact, we’re considering a change, and given her willingness to accommodate me for the better part of a decade and a half with faint yellow walls in both halls, I’m inclined to yield at last. (Psssttt… But I haven’t admitted it to her yet, so please don’t through me under the bus!)
