Tag: Historic Home

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Rosslyn, Historic Home in Essex, NY

Rosslyn, Historic Home in Essex, NY (Source: @virtualdavis)[/caption]

At the heart of this story (and our lives since 2006) is an historic home, a homestead really, located on the Adirondack shore of Lake Champlain in Essex, New York. Dubbed Rosslyn by the W.D. Ross family who built her circa 1820-3 and still known as Rosslyn two centuries later, this stately lakeside property is our home.

Rosslyn in Essex on Lake Champlain

Note: The following Rosslyn excerpts originally appeared in “Rosslyn“ (Essex on Lake Champlain, February 26, 2013) and “Rosslyn Boathouse“ (Essex on Lake Champlain, February 27, 2013).

Rosslyn (aka the W.D. Ross Mansion, Hyde Gate, and Sherwood Inn) in Essex, NY.

Rosslyn, the second oldest home on Essex, New York’s Merchant Row, is located just south of The Dower House. This historic home (also known as the W.D. Ross Mansion, Hyde Gate, and The Sherwood Inn) was built by William D. Ross for his bride Mary Ann Gould (c. 1826-8) (“Essex: An Architectural Guide.” 30).

Primarily Georgian in style, Rosslyn also exhibits elements of Federal and Greek Revival architecture. The central entryway of the five-bay facade is flanked by sidelight windows placed symmetrically on both sides of the doorway and an elegant fanlight above the doorway.

“The structure is noteworthy for its exceptional Doric cornice following a design from a pattern book by Boston architect Asher Benjamin, The American Builder’s Companion (1826).” (“Essex: An Architectural Guide.” 30)

Rosslyn faces Lake Champlain and Vermont’s Green Mountains beyond. Expansive lawns, locally quarried stone walls, an early 19th century inspired fence, and the alignment (and spacing) of Rosslyn’s outbuildings contribute to the classical proportions of this stately property. Rosslyn’s whimsical boathouse, still visible wharves, and a painstakingly restored waterfront recollect the Ross family’s shipping merchant heritage and The Sherwood Inn’s decades as a popular vacation destination.

Renovating Rosslyn

Like many of the homes in Historic Essex, NY, Rosslyn has experienced many cycles of renovation, neglect, alteration and restoration. As the second oldest home on Merchant Row (and one of the oldest residences in Essex village) it is difficult to ascertain the property’s precise historic lineage. While construction of the original brick and stone structure most likely began in 1820, there are indications that it either replaced (or augmented) and already constructed wood frame house…

A significant rear wing was added to Rosslyn in the early 19th century for domestic services (kitchen, pantry, etc.) and servants quarters. It was once common for wealthy families to hire and house live-in servants (cleaning staff, cooks, gardeners, nannies, etc.), however shifting social norms and economics diminished the practice in the United States making servant quarters increasingly rare.

Early in the 20th century Rosslyn was converted into The Sherwood Inn, and the service wing was renovated to accommodate guest lodging, restaurant and tavern. When the Sherwood Inn ceased operation in the late 1950s or early 1960s the rear wing was mostly removed and the remaining addition was adapted to residential use.

“It’s worth noting that the house was constructed out of brick (with stone foundations) and not wood. But this detail — like the soft math when recollecting the number and function of servants — matters little and reveals the patina-ing power of time’s passage. The other notable difference between Hyde Gate as Lesh describes it and Rosslyn as she stands today is that the veranda has been removed, revealing an older — and most likely original — stone stairway and entrance. The owner from whom we purchased the property undertook this alteration in a nod to historic authenticity. He too felt obliged to leave his imprint on the front facade of the house and erected a Greek Revival columned entrance roof which incorporates subtle Georgian detailing…” (Rosslyn Redux)

The Rosslyn property once consisted of many outbuildings including an ice house, a carriage house, several barns, a granary, and a privy (Images of America: Essex on Lake Champlain. 119). The ice house was the best way to store and preserve food in the past before electricity and refrigeration. The house’s location next to the lake would have been advantageous because in the winter ice could be cut from the frozen lake and brought to the ice house to store for summer.

A note discovered at Rosslyn identifies June 13, 1908 as the date that the home was first hooked up to electricity by Guy H. Mason (Images of America: Essex on Lake Champlain. 87). With the increasing ease of indoor plumbing, electricity, and other conveniences many of Rosslyn’s outbuildings became obsolete and were eventually removed. Today the ice house, carriage house and a boathouse (dock house) which was likely constructed in the late 1800s remain and have been renovated.

Rosslyn Boathouse

Kestrel docked at Rosslyn boathouse

Built on a pier jutting into Lake Champlain in Essex, NY, stands a charming dock house constructed in 1898 (“Essex: An Architectural Guide.” 30). Rosslyn boathouse is modeled on a late 19th century Eastlake Design, considered part of the Queen Anne style of Victorian architecture (Images of America: Essex on Lake Champlain. 118).

Popular boat races and regattas took place on the Essex waterfront drawing competitors and spectators to the Rosslyn boathouse and shoreline from near and far. While boating regattas have dwindled in the last half century, Rosslyn boathouse remains a spectacular spot for viewing the Essex fireworks on the Fourth of July.

Kestrel

Although Rosslyn boathouse is part of the original W.D. Ross family property, it was not constructed by or for the Ross family. The turn-of-the century building was most likely designed and built for the Keyser family to accommodate their 62 ft. long, steam-powered yacht, Kestrel. Constructed entirely of mahogany, the yacht plied Lake Champlain’s water the 1890’s through the 1930’s, becoming as much an iconic vessel in Essex history as the boathouse has become in the century since it first adorned Merchant Row.

Although the Keysers may have initially kept their yacht on their own waterfront north of Essex, their dock and/or boathouse was rendered unusable by ice or flood damage. Kestrel required local dockage for convenient access and an ample supply of coal to power the steam engine, so the Keyser family purchased a small piece of land on the lake from the Ross family and proceeded to build a dock, boathouse, and coal storage bin for the yacht. The Keyser boathouse has persevered through many floods and ice flows, and today it is once again part of the Rosslyn property. (The Kestrel: An Essex Icon by Morris F. Glen)

Reawakening a home, a dream and ourselves

Rosslyn Redux is a vicarious plunge into the idiosyncrasies (and absurdities) of renovating a circa 1822 historic home and boathouse in Essex, NY. The memoir by flâneur and storyteller, virtualDavis, is available at abdul2.rosslynredux.com.

February 27, 2013
Sherwood Inn Landing on Lake Champlain

Vintage postcard of Rosslyn. Caption reads: Sherwood Inn, Landing, on Lake Champlain.

Rear of vintage Rosslyn postcard addressed to Mrs. Ethel Alvey.

This morning I share with you a seasonally in-sync Rosslyn artifact that I acquired last week on eBay. This vintage postcard postmarked July 24, 1959 depicts the Rosslyn and Sunnyside waterfronts. The caption reads: Sherwood Inn, Landing, on Lake Champlain.

Although I remain somewhat conflicted whether or not it’s appropriate to share the messages from vintage and antique postcards, I tend toward a quasi-archeological justification (unless the content is obviously sensitive or inappropriate). And I am always happy to remove anything if requested (by originator, recipient, family member, etc.)

In the case of this postcard addressed to Mrs. Ethel Alvey on Muncie, Indiana from Edith, I consider the message quirky and innocuous enough to share, though it hasn’t anything at all to do with Rosslyn!

We drove to Keene, N.Y. yesterday after making a phone call. We are paid guests of Mrs. Walter Beesmeyer at Mt. House. She, her husband (now deceased) & small son came to U.S. 20 years ago from Germany. We are on top of Mt. surrounded by Mts. I wish you & Herman had a million $ so you could fly here and enjoy N.Y. State. I’m writing on a ferry crossing Lake Champlain going to a museum in Vermont.

[pullquote]I’m fascinated with how a simple artifact can offer a bridge across time.[/pullquote]I suspect that Edith was referring to Marion Biesemeyer who passed away three years ago.

Marion Hempel Biesemeyer, 101, of Keene, was born in Berlin, Germany, Feb. 22, 1911. She died peacefully at the Meadowbrook Healthcare facility on Thursday, May 31, 2012 (Source: Lake Placid News)

As World War II engulfed their country and continent, Marion and her husband Walter emigrated to the United States. They worked as caretakers for Putnam Camp and then moved to Keene where they established Mountain House.

Originally built in 1890, the Mountain House is located on top of East Hill with spectacular views of the Adirondack’s highest peaks. The Biesemeyer Family has offered guests food and lodging since 1945. (Source: Welcome to The Mountain House)

I’m fascinated with how a simple artifact can offer a bridge across time. When Edith penned her postcard to Ethel, Walter had been dead for about six years and Marion was operating Mountain House on her own. She continued to receive guests as sole proprietor until 2000. And today Mountain House is owned and operated by Bob Biesemeyer, a curious tidbit that filtered across my radar recently when my bride and I learned about Hamilton College’s soon-to-launch Academic Program in the Adirondack Program.

Nestled in the heart of the Adirondacks, the beautiful, historic Mountain House in Keene, NY is the site of our program. The Main House, and the adjacent Gulf Brook Lodge and Alpine Lodge house students, professors in residence, and serve as the academic home base for a semester of hands-on, experiential study. It was the family home of owner Bob Biesemeyer, who also owns and operates the contracting company of Biesmeyer’s Adirondack Building, Inc. (Source: Hamilton College)

Uncanny, right? And if you’ve read this far, and you’re still not totally flummoxed, then you just might want to learn about Hamilton’s Academic Program in the Adirondack Program.

The Academic Program in the Adirondacks at Hamilton College is a place-based, semester long learning experience that combines rigorous academic study with the skills and understanding gained through field experience in the Adirondack Park with local organizations and in wilderness contexts. The focus is on local, interdisciplinary environmental issues with global implications. (Source: Hamilton College)

As a Hamilton alumna and evangelist, my bride is thrilled that her alma mater is introducing a program in our neck of the woods. She visited the Biesemeyer’s Mountain House with the program’s founder and director, Professor Janelle A Schwartz. Glowing review!

Now for that museum in Vermont…

May 21, 2015
Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback

Rosslyn has been reinvigorated (even reinvented) many times over its two century history on Essex, New York’s Merchant Row. But beyond all others, the mother lode of artifacts and memories of this fascinating property derive from its years as the Sherwood Inn.

This morning I’d like to share with you an article that was published on the front page of the Essex County Republican on March 29, 1946.

Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback (Source: Essex County Republican (Keeseville, N.Y.), March 29, 1946, Page 1)

The full article is well worth a read, so I’ve transcribed it below in it’s entirety. But first I’d like to thank Scott Brayden for bringing this article to my attention. It’s no exaggeration to claim Scott as one of the MVP sleuths of Rosslyn and Essex area history. In addition to an extraordinary gift for disinterring artifacts with his metal detector, smarts, and soothing patience, Scott has also mined digital archives with remarkable luck. This article, three quarters of a century after it was published, STILL fascinates. And while there are potentially a couple of discrepancies with the broader historic record, it’s mostly spot on. And it fills in some of the gaps that still exist in my own understanding of the property that enraptured Susan and me a decade and a half ago…

Here’s the original article about the Sherwood Inn.

Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback (Source: Essex County Republican (Keeseville, N.Y.), March 29, 1946, Page 1)

Here’s the Sherwood Inn transcribed article about the from the March 29, 1946 Essex County Republican front page.

90-Year-Old Essex Home

Sherwood Inn Has Associations Dating Back to 1830s, Brick Mansion Erected by W. D. Ross

Sherwood Inn at Essex on Lake Champlain, built, it is believed, between 1830 and 1835, is one of the oldest and most dignified residences in that community, permanent establishment of which was begun about 1785 by Daniel Ross. The residence is known to have ante-dated the Harmon Noble house, erected in 1835, and is thought to have been erected by William D. Ross.

The property was later owned by the Harmon Noble Estate, which when divided was acquired by Sarah Elizabeth Noble Waite. Upon her death, or the following year, 1889, it was sold to Edward Richardson who was proprietor of a summer boarding house there.

A family named Walmsley of New Orleans, La. then became owners and later Mrs. Caleb J. Coatsworth bought the house. (about 1907 or 1908) When Mrs. Coatsworth died, her daughter, Mrs. Howard Hill, fell heir to the property.(1912) During ownership of the Hill family the place was named Hyde Gate House.

[pullquote]Essex is favored by fortune in having another of its oldest homes cared for so well.[/pullquote]In 1937 Essex county assumed ownership, but sold to Richard R. Williams in 1941. Mr. Williams in turn, sold Hyde Gate House to Sloane E. Miller in 1942, who disposed of the property in 1945 to Mr. and Mrs. W. Sherwood, the present owners and occupants.

Interior of the imposing brick mansion, renamed Sherwood Inn in 1945, has undergone little change since days of early settlement at Essex. Front entrance is made into a broad hallway with fine stairway leading to second floor. On left, or southern side of the house are living room and connecting dining room. To the right of the hall, on the north, is another living room, with kitchen to the rear. The large room across the back of the house, formerly used as dining room, has recently been converted into a pine-paneled Colonial tap room, attractively furnished. A frame section of the residence containing the original kitchen with fireplace and Dutch oven, extended farther to the rear in past years but was demolished before Mr. and Mrs. Sherwood became owners.

The upstairs sleeping rooms, all generously supplied with windows and three of which are equipped with fireplaces, as are the living rooms on the first floor, are inviting in modern fittings. All front rooms overlook Lake Champlain, whrose [sic] waters wash against the shore only a few steps across the highway on which Sherwood Inn faces.

The Inn has the same pleasant setting it has had for nearly a century and there is still evidence of the fine gardens, carefully tended by various of its owners. Essex is favored by fortune in having another of its oldest homes cared for so well.

August 1, 2022
Mystery: Brick Wall Hole

Basement entrance (Photo: Jason McNulty)

During an extended rehabilitation, renovation or even restoration, one is liable to lose track of important details. Too many small details whizzing past too fast and for too long. The brain falters. Memory fails. Photos and lists and other archives, no matter how methodically updated, fail to contain everything.

And when the dust settles questions ferment into mysteries. One such mystery is an irregular hole in the northern exterior brick wall outside the kitchen. The bricks and mortar are old, and pockmarks are more norm than exception at Rosslyn, but the size, and depth of this hole suggest that it was intentionally bored, not the result of spalling or a rifle shot.

I put the question to Jason McNulty, son of the previous owners, and periodic visitor and Rosslyn demystifier. He considered, then suggested that he hand a hunch. He would dig through old photos and get back to me.

Today he did.

Jason emailed me the photograph above with the following explanation.

I took a few minutes to investigate the mysterious hole in the wall that we noticed beneath the kitchen window. I dug out the pictures that I had taken back in 2004, and I found two pictures of the area in question. Both were taken at a bit of a distance, and… [the camera’s] resolution wasn’t sufficient to get a crystal-clear image of the area. But, it really does look like the railing surrounding the steps into the basement does penetrate the wall in that area. ~ Jason McNulty

Although the photo is dark and a little blurry, it does indeed appear to solve the mystery.

The old basement access was removed and sealed early in Rosslyn’s rehabilitation in order to eliminate cracking that was resulting from ongoing water damage to the foundation. The roof valley directed a large volume of water into this area, hyper saturation the ground and creating freeze-thaw strains each winter.

[pullquote]The doorway and stairway were eliminated and the metal pipe railing slipped from my memory.[/pullquote]

We stabilized this compromised corner by closing the exterior, sub-grade doorway (basement access) as well as another interior doorway which provided access from the oldest portion of the house into the ell. And a large concrete ballast was poured into the northwest corner of the basement to provide necessary buttressing to ensure that no further structural shifting will occur.

In the process, the doorway and stairway were eliminated and the metal pipe railing slipped from my memory. Seeing Jason’s photograph jogs my memory and confirms his hunch. Another mystery solved. Thanks, Jason!

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June 15, 2011
The Story of a House

At the outset of this sprawling experiment I call Rosslyn Redux I needed a way to describe the vision (as much for myself as for visitors to the About page.) So, in the springtime of this journey I settled on the only real point of clarity: Rosslyn Redux would be the story of a house. I anticipated some of the interwoven elements (my still new marriage, our lifestyle changes, NYC-to-Essex pivot, etc.) that inevitably would find their way into the pages.

Rosslyn, November 8, 2004 (Photos: Jason McNulty)

Here’s a snippet from that early attempt to define my intentions.

Rosslyn Redux is the story of a house and the idiosyncrasies (and absurdities) of renovation, marriage and North Country life…

With 20/20 hindsight I’d likely replace “house” with “home” or “historic home”. Or even “homestead”. But in those naive early days I did not yet understand how profoundly my notion of home and “homeness” would evolve through my relationship, indeed Susan and my relationship, with Rosslyn.

In fact, with the benefit of time and perspective, there’s plenty that I would change in this preliminary vision, but for the moment let’s just dig a little deeper into the relationship and distinction between house and home.

Rosslyn, November 8, 2004 (Photos: Jason McNulty)

Old House, New Home

Per various accounts it looks as if the first phase of Rosslyn’s construction was completed and the property was occupied circa 1820. Records vary, and the succession of additions and alterations likely accounts for some of the confusion. But however you look at it this historic house and property is a couple of centuries old. at the heart of our journey was an effort to transform this old house into a new home.

Actually, in rereading that last sentence, I’m feeling uncomfortable with the idea that we have transformed Rosslyn. Certainly there is/was an element of transformation, but one of the lessons that we’ve learned with and through Rosslyn is the importance of reawakening a home rather than turning into something different from what it already was.

Rosslyn, November 8, 2004 (Photos: Jason McNulty)

Reawakening Home

Much of our early design and architectural brainstorming involved identifying and removing previous owners’ attempts at transforming Rosslyn. Layers of makeovers and alterations were carefully, slowly peeled away until we could simplify and integrate the design back into a cohesive whole. Cohesion and integration. Guiding principles for us even now as we undertake the adaptive reuse of the icehouse.

Aside from the somewhat arrogant and hubristic potential in setting out to transform Rosslyn, we’ve discovered that attempting to overlay newness, fashion, trends, and so forth onto four impressive buildings that have withstood the tests and temper tantrums of time misses many opportunities to learn from (and through) Rosslyn’s. It also preempts the potential for us to change and grow, allowing Rosslyn to inform and broaden and deepen our understanding of homeness.

Rosslyn, November 8, 2004 (Photos: Jason McNulty)

In other words, reawakening Rosslyn has been an opportunity to reawaken ourselves. (Still working on this idea, so I’m hoping for your forbearance as I learn how to better articulate this.)

In closing, I recommend a short film by Ann Magee Coughlin that I rewatched recently. Her story of a house is different from ours, but the richness and texture of history that can coalesce within an old home resonates with me in the context of our efforts to reawaken an old house as a new home.

March 29, 2023
I would love/hate to renovate an old house…

I would love/hate to renovate an old house because…

When Rosslyn Redux comes up in conversation with new acquaintances, I’m reminded again and again that home renovation is a universal theme. Whether folks have firsthand experience renovating an old house or have always dreamed of turning a tumble-down into a work of art, whether they’ve watched a friend’s marriage come unraveled while trying to renovate an old house or simply know viscerally, instinctively that they would never voluntarily undertake a home renovation, everyone has strong feelings on the subject. Everyone!

In fact, I’ve begun to wonder if the inherent value of recounting the Rosslyn Redux adventure might be that it invites others to share their own stories. On Friday I posted the following invitation on Facebook and Twitter:

Complete the phrase: “I would LOVE to (or would NEVER) renovate an old house because…”

The comments I received kept me smiling, laughing and cringing all weekend. On Sunday I gathered all of the responses and randomly drew one comment to win a Rosslyn Redux cap. The winner is John Sherdon who’s sage comment is included in the list of favorites I’ve quoted below. John, shoot me your mailing address and I’ll send you your cap. And thanks to everyone who submitted comments!

“I would love to renovate an old home because I have experience. My family has renovated 2 of our old homes. It can be a financially stressful project. The beauty of the renovation is keeping the character and charm of the original while creating something new. The fear is uncovering more and more to renovate – The worst phrase that often comes out: “Might as well re-do that too.”” ~ John Sherdon

“I would never renovate an old house because my wife would murder me, early in the process.” ~ David Diamantes

“I would love to renovate a house because during the process it tells you their story and when the home is restored to what it once was it is like a story told that remains with you for ever.” ~ Valasie August

“I would NEVER renovate an old house because I like my roofs and I like my marriage! I saw The Money Pit…”Two weeks… two weeks….”” ~ Lorca Damon

“I would LOVE to complete your phrase when we EVER complete the renovation of our old house…” ~ Kimberly Rielly

“Never! Ever! Again. Because I have, and you shouldn’t go broke twice!” ~ North Country & Hudson Valley Rambler

“I actually helped my parents renovate their old home when I was a kid, and had a blast. I also worked in a historic museum, and would love to have the chance to bring back an old home to life.” ~ Sherman Yazu

“I would never renovate a house because I still have the report card that reads “Sharon’s mechanical abilities are fascinating to watch.” Seriously. Do NOT ask me to build anything; it will just be bad.” ~ Sharon Cathcart

“I would renovate a house on a dime! I mean, change is like a holiday :)” ~ Kim Falconer

“I would love to renovate a house because I love to create. Unfortunately, I do not have carpentry skills.” ~ Mia T. Starr

“My parents bought and renovated an old home (built 1820). 45 years later, they’re ALMOST able to say that they’ve completed the process. (Time to start their second renovation?) Although I admire those who do – and definitely enjoy the funny/interesting stories that go along with the undertaking – I would never renovate an old home … which is precisely why I built a new one.” ~ Jane Hooper

“I would LOVE to renovate an old house because I grew up with a father who did exactly that. And when he would finish, we’d move so he could start over and do it again. It was amazing to see the transformations, and very rewarding to help make it happen.” ~ Kristy Ullman

“We already renovated an old house – time-consuming, money-draining, effort-taking… but so worth it!! Had some spooky goings-on as well…” ~ Mandy Cowley

“As an architect, my brother, chose twenty years ago to restore a run down mansion in Bernardsville, NJ. It’s been a long and never ending project and has also been financially taxing. I would never renovate an old house because I do not have the patience, determination, dedication and cash to devote to such a project.” ~ Rosamond Lincoln-Day

“I would LOVE to renovate an old house, because peeling back the layers is like revisiting periods of time… It’s amazing what you can find out about the people who lived there before.” ~ Rose Wall

“Hiya! My husband and I renovated an older house and I have to say, with time and financial constraints, it was a pain. We plan to do it again, minus the limitations. Creating that transformation and bringing a forgotten house back to life is AMAZING.” ~ Sarah Ballance

“I would love to renovate an old house because what doesn’t kill us makes us stronger; )~ I speak from personal experience having renovated a mid century mess into a beautiful house that I adore and that now feels like me…and Yes, I’d do it again in a heartbeat:)” ~Michelle Shell Rummel

What about you? Would you LOVE to renovate an old house? Or would you NEVER renovate an old house?

August 22, 2011
Rosslyn Featured in Old House Journal

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 1-2)

Exactly three years ago on June 3, 2015, Old House Journal published an article about Rosslyn. Time for a flashback! Regina Cole’s story and Carolyn Bates’s photographs are entitled, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, and you can find their original article here. (Note: the print edition and the online edition differ slightly.)

If you’re unfamiliar with Old House Journal, — and if you’re renovating or rehabilitating an older home — I recommend both the print magazine and the online website and resources.

This site is the ultimate resource for owners of old houses and period-style homes, gathering information from Old-House Journal, Old-House Interiors, Early Homes, and New Old House. You’ll find inspiration, how-to info and advice, stories and photos of old houses galore and sources for traditional products. Whether you’re restoring your old house or searching for period decor, you’ll find help here. (Source: Old-House Online)

An Insider’s Glimpse

It’s worth noting that the article fumbles a few points here and there, but the gist is mostly on target. And the photographs are amazing!

Like many owners of important old houses, this couple never intended to become stewards of a 2½-storey neoclassical manse that spreads over more than 6,000 square feet. The building was originally just a three-bay, side-hall dwelling, but Rosslyn was expanded between 1835 and 1840 into its symmetrical five-bay configuration. Other buildings on the grounds include several barns and a very adorable, Eastlake-style boathouse added in 1898. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)

Eek! Adorable? Though my bride and I fell head over heels in love with the Rosslyn’s boathouse (really a “dock house” more than a boathouse) long before we succumbed to the home’s beguiling pull, neither of us would likely describe the quirky lakeside structure as adorable. Too cute, me thinks, for this weathered folly. But I’ll leave that judgment up to you.

A significant rear wing had been added to Rosslyn in the 19th century for domestic services—a kitchen and pantry, etc.—and servants’ quarters. Early in the 20th century, when the house became a hostelry called The Sherwood Inn, that service wing was renovated to accommodate guest lodging, a restaurant, and a tavern. When the inn ceased operation by the early 1960s, most of the rear wing was removed.

George and Susan used its remnant to create a large new family room. For symmetry and better flow, they also added two new wings, one to house a screened porch and one to create circulation between old rooms and new. The boathouse, of course, was a later addition, but its late Victorian style is so charming, they never considered removing it. It has been restored inside and out.

[…]

The front of the house is historic, but the rear had undergone numerous additions and subtractions over the years. George and Susan updated the rear with sensitive additions and a patio surrounded by a stone wall. George rebuilt the old stone walls that surround the property. They built a new fence, basing its design on one found in a Federal pattern book. (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)

Mostly accurate, except I’ll humbly concede credit to others for the handsome stone walls. I did design/redesign/adapt them and figure out how to repurpose old stone salvaged from failed walls and long buried foundations, but virtually all of the heavy lifting was done by others. And we remain extremely grateful for it!

Okay, enough revisionism… On to the article.

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 3-4)

The opening spread showcases one of the handsome entrance gates designed and built by our friend, Tom Duca. And that interior shot of the front entrance door with side lites and fan lite? That challenging project was meticulously executed by Kevin Boyle.

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 5-6)

The front parlor and the dining room offer pigmented nostalgia bridges.

The pea green paint in the parlor is a nod to the previous owner whose paint choice perplexed us at first, but grew on us gradually, imperceptibly during our endless renovation. My bride elected to preserve and refresh it while I was away. It was the perfect choice.

And the light blue walls in the dining room recollect the dining room in Maison Margaux, a top-to-bottom renovation I shepherded in Paris’ Faubourg St. Germain.

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 7-8)

The kitchen and morning room (aka “the north porch”) are principle phases of our daily orbit. No finer way to start the day that breakfasting with songbirds!

“Beguiled into Stewardship”, Old House Journal, June 2015 Issue (Page 9-10)

Griffin, our Labrador Retriever, is the perennially proud protector of Rosslyn in general and our bedroom in particular. From his perch at the end of the bed he can monitor the deer and wild turkeys sneaking snacks from his vegetable garden and orchard. I suppose “protector” might be a mild overstatement.

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June 3, 2018
Old House Journaling
Rosslyn’s Parlor (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )

Yesterday marked ten weeks of old house journaling. Every. Single. Day. Two months and ten days back at the helm of this wayward, meandering, sometimes unruly experiment I call Rosslyn Redux. I emphasize the daily component of this benchmark because it’s been an important part of the goal I committed to at the end of July. Starting on August first I would resuscitate Rosslyn Redux. The why part of this equation is important, but I intend to tackle that separately. For now I’ll touch on the how and then take a blurry backward glance at my June 3, 2018 post, “Rosslyn Featured in Old House Journal“, and concurrently touch on the 2015 Old House Journal article about Rosslyn entitled,”Beguiled into Stewardship“, which inspired my post. Confused much? Me too!

Rosslyn’s Kitchen (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )

So, sidestepping, for now, the question of why resuscitate Rosslyn Redux let’s focus on how to resuscitate Rosslyn Redux. First and foremost I’m looong overdue for completing and publishing a backlog of neglected drafts:
- New updates of recent projects (hemlock hedge bordering north side of front lawn, rebuilding the deck, repairing the boathouse gangway and waterfront staircase, and transforming the icehouse into a studio / office / entertaining space)
- Long overdue recaps of old projects (home rehab, boathouse rehab, carriage house rehab, post-flood waterfront rehab, holistic gardening and orcharding, trail building through fields and forests, protecting and restoring habitat for our wild neighbors — aka rewilding — to ensure an healthy, happy ecosystem for all, and expanding our guest capacity to include two Lake Champlain vacation rentals)
Revisiting all of these “orphaned” WIPs — come on, if I can’t toss in wonky, writerly jargon here then I might start using it IRL and freaking people out! — isn’t just because I’ve wanted to share this story forever, variously started to share this story forever, and want forever to figure out if it’s even possible to gather and trim-trim-trim all of this unruly mess into a story with an ending. Yes, an actual conclusion. Happily ever after…

Rosslyn’s Kitchen (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )

This last urge is actually the most important. Sorry I buried the lede. On purpose. You see, it’s part of the why I mentioned earlier. And that, fair reader, is why I’m getting a little cagey. So for now I’ll focus on the two main how-to-resuscitate avenues I’ve outlined above.

Rosslyn’s Entry Hall (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )

Old House Journal-ing

A little over seven years ago, Old House Journal published an article about Rosslyn entitled,”Beguiled into Stewardship“, written by Regina Cole with photographs taken by Carolyn Bates. You can read the full article online. Although the print edition (in the June 2015 issue) does have some differences from the article that appears online the bulk of the main text is the same.

In my 2018 response to the article I tried to gently correct the record on several points made by the author, so I’ll won’t retread those board now, but I’d like to weave in a couple of elements. The first is the photographs for this post. They are all taken directly from the Old House Journal as photographed by Carolyn Bates. At the time of the article, these photographs represented the years-long but finally complete (insofar as any property redo is ever truly, definitely complete, hence my preference for the term “rolling renovation” when talking about our projects) status of Rosslyn. At that point it would have been virtually impossible for us to conceive of any further changes. And yet, seven years later I’m tempted to add “circa 2015” to the captions beneath each image. Proof positive that entropy is forever contending for the upper hand, and our homes are for all practical purposes living, breathing entities that continue to evolve even once renovations are complete.

Rosslyn’s Dining Room Fireplace (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )

So, in a subtly nostalgic way these photographs already feel a bit like time capsules.

And on a related note, the tone of the article sounds so confident, so accomplished, so finished. A wordy sigh of relief to have crossed the finish line.

“…at one point, 100 people were involved with restoring the house. The bulk of the project took three and a half years.” (Source: “Beguiled into Stewardship“)

I suspect we’ve long ago passed the threshold of one hundred generous contributors to this project. Hopefully we can still tabulate and update the figure one of these days. But that second sentence. Ha! Little did we know that we’d be rehabilitating ad infinitum! In the mean time, it’s become immensely important for me to credit everyone currently working on Rosslyn. On of the most profound discoveries over our seventeen years is that Rosslyn is first and foremost a vast ecosystem of stories, lives that have been woven together because of this property. Honoring this legacy and preserving it is an ambition I’ll unlikely succeed in achieving, but I’m trying to ensure that those people who I still can showcase, still can document recipe their rightful place in her story.

Rosslyn’s Dining Room (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal)

And there’s something more. Old house journaling. Sure, I’ve effectively pinched and adapted the term from the magazine, so I humbly submit this post as a derivative inspired by the original, not an imposter, not a sanctioned partner, just poetic language borrowing. For the longest time I used the term “daily munge” to describe the daybook entries I was scribbling, typing, and dictating during the busiest years (2006 through 2009) of demolition, design, rebuilding, landscaping, etc. I’ve riffed on the idea elsewhere, so I’ll crib my own words.

Daily Munge is a term I made up long enough ago that it’s no longer make-believe. It’s real.

Think of Daily Munge as a storyteller’s compost pile. Or a writer’s scrapbook. Or a voyeur’s over-the-shoulder glimpse at what’s on my mind…

Long before journals became weblogs became blogs, writers and storytellers kept fuzzy cornered, coffee stained notebooks and clutches of notes wrapped in string. Word people (my kind of word people, at least) are chronic collectors. We cling to our clutter because we are paranoid. Or maybe because we’re hoarders. We’ve learned that our best ideas may be yesterday’s mistakes. Notes become novels. Slapdash clouds of words becomes monumental poems. Not often, of course, but once is all it takes to convince us that we’d best hoard our verbal midden heaps. Just in case. My Daily Munge is my squalid midden heap. My compost pile. My scrapbook. And in some slightly esoteric way it is what made Rosslyn’s endless rehabilitation survivable, what kept me intrigued, note taking, documenting. After all, isn’t it possible that Odysseus’s almost endless homecoming might have had more to do with collecting and curating chronicles than obstacles? Possibly. (Source: Daily Munge Archives – Rosslyn Redux

I’ve explained this concept too many times to still think it’s a clever description. Nobody has a clue what I mean. And I can no longer locate the magazine article where I believe I borrowed the term “munge” as I use it. And in a recent effort to clarify, at least in the context or Rosslyn Redux, I stumbled upon “old house journaling” as a way to convert what I’m doing here. So maybe my newest push is also an effort to grow something from the munge-y old house journaling and scrapbooking and artifact hoarding and…

Rosslyn’s Morning Room (Source: Carolyn Bates, “Beguiled into Stewardship“, Old House Journal )
October 10, 2022
Reawakening Rosslyn

“Rather than trying to coerce the house to do something new, we tried to reawaken it.” (New England Home)

In “Taking the Long View” Paula M. Bodah refers to the renovation of a Victorian house near Boston, Massachusetts in unusually anthropomorphic terms. Reawaken? Since when do houses sleep?

Despite the unfamiliar reference, Bodah’s terminology is precise, accurate and familiar. In the case of Rosslyn, reawakening is precisely how I too describe our renovation process, though I didn’t understand this at the outset.

One of the joys of homeownership lies in expressing ourselves through our surroundings… Most of us can hardly wait to put our personal stamp on our living spaces. It is, after all, part of the process of turning a house into a home. (New England Home)

While “turning a house into a home” is a topic for a future post, and although I’ve frequently joked that no detail of Rosslyn’s rehabilitation escaped our fingerprints, much attention was paid throughout to preserving the buildings’ unique heritage. My bride and I were far less preoccupied with our own personal stamp than we were with finding Rosslyn’s personal stamp, her DNA, and reawakening it to guide our renovation.

In fact, I wanted to move into Rosslyn after six months — after the most critical infrastructure had been upgraded — so that I could discover the house by living in it. I wanted to understand Rosslyn from the inside out. Remember my coffee-in-the-morning pipe dream? My bride thought I was crazy at the time, willfully opting living in a full-scale renovation project. No doubt here judgment was sound, but it turns out my instinct wasn’t so unusual after all.

The couple who bought this Boston-area Victorian [described above]… lived in their house for a full year, noting how they used the space and how the light flowed (or didn’t), thinking, planning and discussing before undertaking any serious renovating or redecorating. (New England Home)

There’s a certain intimacy, a depth of familiarity and knowledge, that is only possible when you live in a house. When you fall asleep listening to its sighs and creeks mingling with the soft breathing of your bride and dog. When you wake up and navigate your way to the bathroom in the dark in the middle of the night. When an avalanche of snow slides off the roof, startling you early in the morning. When you wake up but stay in bed with your still sleeping bride because the room’s so cold, the comforter is so warm, and you can’t imagine feeling this cozy ever again. When Griffin, your Labrador Retriever, licks your cheek and stares at you pleadingly so that you slide into your robe and slippers and shuffle down the staircase to take him outside for a crack-o-dawn potty break. When you crack a pair of eggs into a sizzling skillet next to the popping bacon and wait for the house to smell like Sunday morning. When the ferry boat landing at the nearby ferry dock vibrates the house. When you step out of the shower onto the worn floorboards. When you inhale a nostril-full of moist brick after a summer rain. When you gather family together for a celebratory meal in the dining room with the smell of crackling fire mingling with the the aroma of roast turkey and pumpkin soup…

These are the caresses and whispers that you miss when you renovate a house from without, when diagrams and computer-assisted drawings and conversations are the only firsthand contact you’ve experienced with the environment that will nurture and protect and inspire you for many years to come.

Several years of interior design school underpinned my bride’s confidence that living in a home to understand it was unnecessary, that carefully calibrated (and much debated) drawings were more than adequate to understand the best orientations for bathrooms and kitchens and beds and desks. She was comfortable forging ahead.

I was not. I wanted to touch and smell and hear Rosslyn in order to understand her. I agreed with my bride that it was critical to renovate our home according to the needs of our own lifestyle, but I wanted to ensure that we weren’t imposing our own will haphazardly onto those of the house.

Perhaps this sounds contrived? Perhaps it hints of New Age-y pseudo philosophical blather? I don’t fully disagree. But it’s an honest accounting of our differences as we plunged into Rosslyn’s renovation.

For a long time I struggled to admit to myself, much less to my bride, that I considered it arrogant to impose our dreams upon Rosslyn without first trying to understand her dreams. I was obsessed with reawakening and listening to the old house, trying to hear what she was trying to tell us.

At first we strained to hear, and then it became easier. Her stories, her dreams flowed, and before long we lost the ability to mute Rosslyn. We were inundated with her past and her hopes for the future. Before long it grew virtually impossible to distinguish between Rosslyn’s will and our own.

And so the scope of our project mushroom and the timeline extended. And mushroomed. And extended. We joked that we had been kidnapped by Rosslyn, and in a sense we had.

May 1, 2012
Timeless Historic

“Once upon a time,” begins the story, the fairytale, the adventure,… It opens a door into the past, gentling the listener or reader into a moment long enough ago to seem harmless but present enough to feel relevant right now. A timeless historic canvas upon which to experience (or compose) a compelling narrative.

Timeless Historic (Source: Geo Davis)

This opening sequence invites the audience to suspend disbelief. Old and new, past and present, actual and possible, historic and confabulatory.

Living History & Timeless Historic

I’m drawn to the juxtaposition of old and new. In many respects rehabilitating Rosslyn and making our life here has blurred past, present, and future. History is alive. And similarly much of our quotidian existence is timeless. There’s a whimsical simultaneity of lives and times that infiltrates our lakeside lifestyle. (Source: Boathouse Illustration Revisited)

Rosslyn invites reinvention. Re-imagination. Rehabilitation and playful, capricious, adaptation.

I’ve come to playfully experiment, sometimes renovating that which is vintage or antique. Others times I accelerate aging. Or agelessness. And sometimes these shifts in perspective yield surprising, often refreshing new experiences. (Source: Boathouse Illustration Revisited)

Within an historic home, design and lifestyle needn’t be frozen in antiquity. Both benefit from compatibility with the building’s historic architectural and aesthetic pedigree. But, I believe, an historic home likewise benefits when vitality and relevance today — contemporary livability, if you will — ensure that the home transcends the status of relic or museum.

At best, an historic home is ageless, not in so far as the authentic historic architecture and design are erased, diminished, or compromised, but the functionality and usability endure. Rosslyn is in so many respects a timeless historic residence because two centuries after construction she remains an optimal platform for our lifestyle.

How and why this is the case remain priority topics for me to explore in greater depth. And I suspect that my formative years at Deerfield Academy in Deerfield Historic Deerfield Massachusetts might underpin some of my instincts in this respect. But I’m meandering afield, so I’ll make a point of revisiting in a separate post.

September 27, 2022
Demolition: Rosslyn Dedux

Rosslyn Demolition, autumn 2006

When it was built it was just right for the times. But it didn’t adapt… Rooms were shut off and fell out of use. Neglect left the paint chipped, with bare wood and brick showing through… rehabilitation fails with no sustainable plan for use. ~ Stef Noble (www.stef.net)

I don’t recollect how I came across Demolition, a blog post by Stef Noble (@stefnoble). I don’t know her. I don’t even know about her. But somehow I stumbled across her reflection on what happens at the end of a building’s life. She ponders demolition, debris, salvage, sensitivity to neighbors and environment. And she wanders into wonders about the transition, preparedness, shelter…

[pullquote]Like an enigmatic poem that continues to resonate long after that first encounter… Stef’s words have hooked me, drawn me back again and again.[/pullquote]

The post moves from conviction and resolve to questions. From “sometimes you find that there is nothing left to save” and “It must be a salvage process” to “What does your shelter look like now?”

It’s a poignant, provocative post despite its brevity and abstraction. I have no idea what or where the building is or even whether the building is a metaphor for something else that’s beyond rehabilitation, something else that must be dismantled sensitively and responsibly before moving on. But like an enigmatic poem that continues to resonate long after that first encounter, inspiring rereading upon rereading, Stef’s words have hooked me, drawn me back again and again.

Noble Demolition & Rosslyn Rehabilitation

At the risk of misappropriation (Sorry!) I have transposed Stef’s wonder to Rosslyn’s endless rehabilitation. Inadvertently. Inevitably.

There are obvious differences. Rosslyn was repeatedly adapted across almost two centuries. From year-round residence to seasonal residence to inn, restaurant and tavern. From Georgian to Federal to Greek Revival to Victorian and back to Greek Revival/Georgian. From stately home and outbuildings to dilapidated, structurally failing buildings more readily, easily, and cost effectively demolished than rehabilitated. Rosslyn adapted.

But rooms fell out of use, and rooms were shut off. A large portion of the rear ell (wing) was removed half a century ago. In fact the rear ell has undergone four or five, maybe even six significant rebuilds and alterations since the 1820s. And the front facade was dramatically altered early in the 1900s when a vast Victorian wraparound porch was added. This lake overlook was removed several decades before Rosslyn became our home.

In short, Rosslyn’s story is first and foremost one of adaption. Repeat adaption. Her perseverance has been at least partly due to her perennial adaptability.

Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 2006

Nevertheless when we were in the final pre-purchase days, the inspector opined that the boathouse and icehouse were probably unrecoverable. Use them while we could or demolish and replace them. There were other eleventh hour surprises that jeopardized the sale too, but demolition as a recommendation was unnerving.

Rosslyn’s boathouse was precisely what I’d fallen for. Tear it down? No chance. And the ice house promised to be the perfect office/studio/playhouse. Think desk, aisle, pool table, bar!

In both cases we forged ahead, prevailing upon the planning board, engineers, contractors (and detractors) that these buildings should be, could be, would be preserved. Underpinning our confidence and our persistence was the conviction articulated so well by Stef Noble:

rehabilitation fails with no sustainable plan for use

In order to ensure that Rosslyn’s iconic boathouse/dock house would continue to welcome ferry passengers to Essex long into the future, it needed to be more than an historic artifact. It needed to be relevant and useful. It needed to adapt.

No longer serving the Kestrel as a boathouse and coal storage facility, the boathouse needed to evolve. It need to become our waterfront, useful and relevant to us. Rosslyn’s boathouse should accommodate our boating and water sports needs. We windsurf. We waterski. We sail. We entertain nieces and nephews and friends who enjoy fishing and playing on the beach and barbecuing…

The sustainable plan for Rosslyn’s boathouse involved adapting the precarious building into a safe, inviting and attractive place of waterfront activity once again. And despite the odds, we prevailed. The boathouse remains the heart and soul of our Rosslyn lifestyle.

And some day — in the still unknown future — I hope that the boathouse will evolve again to satisfy and inspire Rosslyn’s future stewards.

Rosslyn Ice House 2006

The ice house is another story.

We stabilized the failing structure, replaced the failed roof, repaired the crumbling stone foundation and upgraded the mechanicals. But then we mothballed the project, deferring the next phase indefinitely until circumstances warranted moving forward. For several years we’ve used the ice house as a storage and maintenance annex for the carriage barn, but recently we’ve begun to address a sustainable plan for use. I hope to address this in more depth over the course of the next year. But for now, I’ll just say that we understand that simply stabilizing the building is not enough. Successful rehab demands a sustainable plan for use. And we’re working on it!

The carriage barn and house have been rehabilitated and are serving the modern iteration of the original purposes for which they were built. The house is a home. We live and work and entertain at Rosslyn. I genuinely hope that the future is bright for this structure remaining a year-round residence for a long time. And while horses and carriages no longer come and go, the carriage barn is a handsome but utilitarian space for cars and tractors and a colorful parade of property maintenance equipment. There are bicycles and winter storage for kayaks and windsurfers. In a real sense the building has been rehabilitated into a modern “carriage barn”.

If you’re still with me, I apologize for getting carried away. My mind was wandered. And I’ve still fallen short of conveying why exactly Stef Noble’s post continues to resonate for me. I suppose I’m still not 100% certain. But it seems to share some DNA with the adventure my bride and I undertook in the summer of 2006 when we pulled up roots in Manhattan and set down roots in the Adirondacks with the dream of rehabilitating Rosslyn…

Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 2006

Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 2006

Rosslyn Boathouse, circa 2006

Rosslyn Boathouse Detail, circa 2006

Rosslyn Icehouse 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)

Rosslyn Icehouse 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)

Icehouse Demolition, autumn 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)

Icehouse Demolition, autumn 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)

Icehouse Demolition, autumn 2006 (Source: Geo Davis)

November 10, 2014
Totally Incompatible

Image by virtualDavis via Flickr

My fixer-upper forays with Bruce Ware and other local realtors evolved when Susan joined the search. She shared my dream of an old farmhouse surrounded by open meadows with views and sunlight. She liked barns and was even receptive to my occasional flights of fancy about converting an old barn into a home.

But our notions of size and simplicity were less aligned. And Susan was particularly keen on finding a Lake Champlain waterfront property. “What’s the point of having a place that’s not on the lake?” she asked repeatedly as if the answer were self evident.

The odds of finding an old farm on Lake Champlain (bygone barns “In Old Champlain“) were slim enough, but the prospect of finding a simple, inexpensive property on the lake was totally implausible unless we shifted our thinking toward seasonal camps. South of Westport and north of Essex there were many small properties tucked along the lakeshore that Bruce insisted on showing us despite repeatedly explaining that they were not what we had in mind.

We also looked at inland farms and interesting old homes in small towns and hamlets, “Just so you can see what’s out there…”

We enjoyed looking and brainstorming, but we were growing frustrated with the increasingly diffuse range of properties we were seeing. We had lost our focus.

Bruce was trying to show us all of the options available which in equal turns dilated and frustrated our search. But there was an even more fundamental problem: Susan and my interests were not perfectly aligned.

Although a farm on the lake (especially an old barn that could be reimagined as a home) was proving an impossible ambition, our imaginations were piqued on several occasions by totally dissimilar and totally unlikely properties.

An old “Great Camps” style summer house in Westport overlooking Lake Champlain’s Northwest Bay intrigued me until I realized that this pedigreed manse adjoined — indeed partially overlooked — the town’s sewage treatment plant.

A handsome slate roofed barn, still square after a century or more standing at the crest of an immense field just south of Westport, beguiled me for a while. I imagined a lofty open plan; exposed, rough hewn beams; magnificent views in all directions. But the seller was unable or unwilling to subdivide the field and barn from a much larger farm which included additional fields, an immense dairy barn, various other building for hay and equipment storage, a “pond” for storing cow manure and a large square farmhouse with cupola. And in the end it was a relief to Susan, because, after all, this magnificent barn did not stand on the shores of Lake Champlain.

And then there was Rosslyn, a Merchant-Ivory film set for The Great Gatsby’s Adirondack prequel. A century earlier. Located on the lake in Essex, it included a boathouse I’d loved since I was a child, a carriage barn, an ice house, and plenty of stone walls. But there were no fields and too many buildings. And the house was too big. And too run down. Way too run down. And the price tag was beyond unrealistic.

During our first visit Susan and I had both known immediately, instinctively, conclusively that Rosslyn was not for us. Purchasing this once stately but now desperately dilapidated property was a bad idea. A really, really bad idea.

The expense alone. There was no conceivable short term return on investment. None.

And the amount of time it’d take to understand all of the property’s problems, let alone begin to fix them, to build her back to her former glory? It was incomprehensible.

But money, scope, logistics, that was just the tip of the iceberg. Long deferred maintenance, decades overdue; a gutted rear wing with failing floors suspended from cables that stretched through the middle of rooms; crumbling foundations; faulty electric, plumbing and heating; a boathouse that was one ice flow away from a watery grave; an ice house with corn cribbing walls and a collapsed roof. The current owner had dedicated the better part of four decades of his life, four decades — full time — to renovating Rosslyn and yet it was disintegrating around him.

Buying Rosslyn was totally incompatible with our means, our lives and our plans. And yet Rosslyn seduced us. Susan and I visited and then, months later, revisited the property, each time musing about its potential despite knowing that we shouldn’t, couldn’t, wouldn’t ever own it.

Our increasingly unfocused search — Susan and my notions of the perfect fixer-upper diverging and converging unpredictably — must have vexed Bruce despite his perennial good humor and patience. Though we did periodically visit additional properties when Bruce called with new listings that he thought might appeal to us, our enthusiasm for discovering the perfect spot gradually waned. And our enthusiasm for Rosslyn, for brainstorming and daydreaming and scheming some way to transport this once stately property into our new home, gained momentum.

October 3, 2011