Child’s play, you say? Legos are a perfect proof of concept when it comes to children’s instinct to construct and then deconstruct, reuse instead of demolish.
Children intuitively understand adaptive reuse:
Legos teach reuse at a young age. You build, take apart and rebuild using the same pieces. You wouldn’t throw away your Legos would you? So why throw away your home’s valuable materials? (reusenetwork.org)
This quirky little video (published on Oct 30, 2009 by the Deconstruction & Reuse Network) is a clever reminder why we should practice more sustainable building and renovation. It’s not rocket science, folks. Reuse! The organization’s mission statement is:
We’re an environmental and humanitarian public benefit corporation, promoting and empowering deconstruction practices and the reuse of quality building materials 501(c)(3). (Source: Deconstruction & Reuse Network)
Too bad they’re in California! I wonder, is their an equivalent deconstruction, salvage, reconstruction, repurposing and/or reuse organization in our area? All tips welcome.
Rosslyn & Reuse
In the early months of Rosslyn’s historic rehabilitation, adaptive reuse was not only environmentally responsible (think green renovation and green building) and architecturally responsible (think preservation of historic heritage), it was also a sentimental inevitability. We inherited such a vast array of architectural salvage from the previous owners — installed and in-use in all four buildings, but also stored away in the carriage barn. Such treasures! We couldn’t even identify everything (mysterious artifacts surface all the time), but we suspected that some day, one day many of these items would serve us (and Rosslyn) well.
One of the items that we removed from the previous owner’s woodshed was a pair of Greek Revivalcolumns. They’re stored away in the carriage barn, hibernating, awaiting a creative reuse. Stay tuned for their next chapter. And, though most passersby are unaware, the flagpole mounted atop Rosslyn’s boathouse was once a sailboat mast!
Reuse is Child’s Play: digital watercolor derived from a video still (Image: Geo Davis)
Legos & DIY
In addition to the handy look at deconstruction and reuse, I also like the video above because it uses Legos. Legos! So accessible, and for many of us, so familiar. This ubiquitous children’s toy is one of our first introductions to the DIY way of thinking, subtly exposing youngsters to the idea of making, encouraging experimentation (and occasional failure) as well as reminding us then when it’s all said and done we can just deconstruct our creation back into its pieces in order to make something new. This ethos guides so much of Susan and my interest in and aptitude for what we call “greenovation” (responsible remodeling). We were both “Do it myself” kids, and now we’re a couple of “Do it myself” adults (who still feel like kids!)
A major upgrade to the Emmet Carter website incorporating recent green design projects prominently features Rosslyn. I’ll excerpt a few descriptions and some of photographer Nancie Battaglia’s interior images in the post below.
Welcome to Rosslyn
Rosslyn is a stately Federal home on the shore of Lake Champlain in Essex, NY. This circa 1823 property, includes a turn-of-the-century Eastlake inspired boat house, an expansive carriage house, an ice houe, and thirty acres of sprawling Adirondack gardens, orchards, meadows, forests and cross country ski trails. (Emmet Carter)
Living Room
Rosslyn Living Room (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
The detailed trim work and built-ins throughout the room are all new, customized to match existing Federal wood patterns in the home, and comprised of FSC woods and with no toxic glues. Green design details throughout including: rugs are hand made wool from Tibet, the floors are new FSC beech wood, the couches are custom and entirely organic, the white upholstered chairs are sustainable from Lee, and the French chairs are antique and re-upholstered with natural linen and a cotton jute batting. The coffee table was handmade of walnut by the owner’s brother. All the fabrics in the room are natural and organic and all the wood and paint finishes are natural and non-toxic. Two original fireplaces transformed into gas stoves heat the room on demand for company and in-floor hydronic radiant heat stands by for additional warmth though even in frigid winters has never turned on because of the efficient and warm rooms that surround on all sides.
Rosslyn Living Room (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
The west wall of the living room and the Xian Warrior replica from China look onto the screened porch addition. The paneling is new and inspired from the house’s existing trimwork and other historic Federal precedent. The windows and french doors are new, efficient, double glazed from Marvin. The sconces are antique from the Federal period, and the side chairs are antique french (from a Parisian flea market), re-upholstered in a french inspired cotton toile fabric. The floors are FSC beech with a non-toxic sealer. (Emmet Carter)
Dining Room
Rosslyn Dining Room (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
Rosslyn’s dining room served as the previous owner’s wood working shop in the decades prior to our rehabilitation, but enough details remained (or were reconstructed from drawings and photographs) to return this elegant space to its former glory.
The custom built-in storage piece by a local craftsman was the perfect solution for a small space and a great need for barware storage beside the bar and dining room. It mimics the shape and detailing of the window opposite it, as does the new trim around the new door to the dining room. The lovely painting completmenting the area is by local artist Liz Wilson. The floor is new, local FSC cherry wood with a non-toxic finish. All the paints are non-toxic, no VOC. (Emmet Carter)
Parlor
Rosslyn Parlor (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
The fireplace is original and the mantel was a reproduction of the original trimwork from 1823, finished with no-VOC paint. The painting above the fireplace is by local Adirondack artist, Paul Rossi. The curtains are inspired by Federal patterns, and comprised of an embroidered silk from Kravet and tassle trim by Samuel and Sons, and are doubly interlined with natural cotton for thermal barrier from lakefront wind. The chair is antique French from a Parisian flea market, upholstered in a green silk velvet. The corner piece of salvaged wood was handcrafted in the Adirondacks by the owner’s brother. It opens to reveal a mini bar, glassware and bottled spirits. (Emmet Carter)
Bar
Rosslyn’s bar and stairway to game room and wine cellar. (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
This eight foot wide new addition, in the footprint of an historic porch, now mirrors the existing wing on the other side of the house to add symetry to the Federal house. Additionally, it offers space for a bar, half bath, mudroom and staircase to the finished basement. Green design features include the double paned Marvin windows which offer nice views of the lake and south yard, allow large amounts of sunlight to warm the house in winter, and large breezes to enter in the summer. The new addition also insulates the large, historic living room. The honed marble floors conceal efficient radiant heat, and the customized bar cabinet is recessed into the area where an exterior window once stood. Recycled PaperStone tops the bar area and half bath vanity down the hall. (Emmet Carter)
Breakfast Room
Rosslyn Breakfast Room (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
This is our favorite place for meals during the day, with a view of the north lawn, stone walls, birdfeeder and lake. The table is antique, probably from a farm, complete with multiple knife indentations, the placemats are handmade from sea grass, the irregular ceramic dinnerwear is from Viva Terra and the glass candle holders that are continually used are made by the nearby and talented Vermont company, Simon Pierce.
Four framed art pieces depict the four seasons of China, and the Marvin double paned windows depict our four seasons of the Adirondacks. The seat cushions were custom made of organic cotton, the background bench was hand carved in the Adirondacks by the owner’s brother and organic fruit and drink complete the natural setting. (Emmet Carter)
Kitchen
Though the architect insisted that the existing kitchen be bumped out for a better lake view, and alternatively suggested putting it in the historic living room for an open kitchen, family space, we reminded him that we would not be disturbing the historic footprint of the Federal home and that our “family” consisted of the two of us and a dog. Therefore, though he thought the space entirely too small for a kitchen, we used it as such, as it had been for many years, and it is the perfect size for two people who do a great deal of cooking and entertaining.
Rosslyn Kitchen (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
Our eight year old nephew chose the color, which reminded him of green apples and grapes. It worked, and around the green walls we added custom wheat board non-toxic cabinetry and trim with Federal details, and granite from India (Okay, the only green design aspect of these countertops is the color, considering the fossil fuels that it took to haul the stone here, but the surface is very practical, beautiful and resembles marble more than granite, and we’re big fans of India having recently visited there). The floor is new FSC beech wood, the fabric all linen from Schumacher and Zoffany, and the stove is a white Viking. We achieved the lake view after all by putting a second sink in the island which faces onto the adjoining rooms’s lakefront windows. (Emmet Carter)
Master Bedroom
Rosslyn Master Bedroom, East Elevation (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
Rosslyn’s master bedroom spent several decades as a demo’ed-to-the-studs, leaky, uninsulated storage space for construction materials, firewood, tools, and miscellaneous household odds and ends. I’ll add a post eventually that chronicles the full evolution of our bedroom, from dismal dump into our favorite room in the house. With windows on three sides, matched fireplaces, elegant but functional built-ins, a private balcony and a magnificent morning and afternoon view this space has become an oasis of calm and privacy.
Rosslyn Master Bedroom, West Elevation (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
And that sofa at the end of the bed? A cozy seat with a view, yes, but first and foremost it serves as throne for King Griffin, our Labrador Retriever. Although, as you can see in the photo above, why occupy the throne when the bed’s even softer and more spacious?!?!
The master bathroom is an indulgence. All of the bathrooms were well finished, but for our own private space we wanted to capture some of our favorite elements – voluminous, marble mosaic tiled shower, handsome soaking tub, paired sinks, radiant heat and towel bar, and a separate commode room – into a comfortable and minimalist bathroom. We also designed a custom cabinet that now stands between the two windows to store toiletries and balance the white massing. All told, we feel super pampered every time we brush our teeth or wash up.
Guest Bedroom
Rosslyn Guest Bedroom (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
This room features all natural and organic fabrics, an antique Italian chair and English dresser, paired with a locally made Vermont bed and side tables (with no toxic finishes). The high bed allows guests to look out of the large windows to the enchanting Lake Champlain and Vermont Green mountains. Guests can adjust the window treatments to allow the flood of light at dawn into the room fully with the windows exposed, or to allow a filtered light with sheer linen roman shades, or to witness it at a later hour by closing the doubly insulated full length curtains. In the winter the insulated panels block any drafts from the lake. The matching bedside lamps are repurposed vases brought back by hand from China and inspired the room’s color scheme and the silk rug and curtains. (Emmet Carter)
Study Bathroom
Rosslyn: Study Bathroom (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
This bathroom arrived as an afterthought, and was carved out of the room that housed the master bath. Though its adjoining room is a study, it might easily be used as a bedroom by the current or future owners, so it seemed prudent to add an adjoning bathroom for convenience and resale value. At the top of the stairs it also works well as an additional bathroom for overnight guests, dinner guests or party guests. The rich brown limestone and white ceramic subway tiles add contrast, warmth and pep to a small space, and the gentleman who occupies the office next door appreciates the definitively masculine room complete with some of his favorite artwork and reading materials. (Emmet Carter)
We removed the dropped ceiling in the attic guest bedroom, trimmed out the beams and added built-ins (with FSC wood and no toxic glues) for maximum storage and efficiency.
Green design elements include the solid wood bed and tables are were custom made nearby in Vermont with a non-toxic natural oil finish while the chair is a re-upholstered antique, and the decorative dresser was made in India.
All paints and finishes are non-toxic and VOC free, all the fabrics are from natural fibers and the wool rug is completely non-toxic as well.
Because the stairway to the attic is very narrow, a normal king mattress would not fit, so we purchased an organic natural rubber king that comes in pieces, enabling easy transport up to the room.
This quiet bedroom, surrounded by in-wall sugar beet foam insulation and the inviting bed, wrapped in soft organic fabrics ensure that guests never want to leave. (Emmet Carter)
The attic guest bathroom is popular with guests. The inspiration, from the owner’s love of the Caribbean and the Lake Champlain waters that lie beyond its walls, led to a waterlike color scheme with recycled glass tiles and nautical fixtures. The deep tub, hand friendly fixtures and large tiled surrounding allow easy bathing for visiting children and luxurious soaks for visiting adults (the floor features a suite of kid and adult guest rooms). The large surrounding also distributed the weight of the tub over a larger area in the third floor of an old home. The double sink vanity features a clean white marble. A seperate third sink and toilet are down the hall allowing multiple guests access to sinks at the same time. Everyone’s favorite feature is the recycled floor tiles, which, with rounded edges feel delightful under bare feet. (Emmet Carter)
What Did I Miss?
There are other spaces (like a small gym, a pantry/laundry and a “bunk room” for visiting children) that aren’t included in this post. I’ll include a few additional interior photographs from this series below, and one of these days I’ll also add a post with all of Nancie Battaglia’s exterior photographs of the house plus her images of the outbuildings. But for now, I’ve already maxed out the page load time, right? Onward!
Rosslyn Screen Porch (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
Rosslyn Stairway to Wine Cellar and Game Room (Credit: Nancie Battaglia)
Tucked into the folds of the icehouse rehab scope of work some accomplishments stand out more than others. The garapa paneling in the bathroom, for example, has been a long, slooow labor of love many months in the making. Many stages and many hands have shaped this initiative, so anticipation has been building for many months. The column flanked vestibule (and the bookmatched ash threshold upon which they rest) is different. I’ll try to explain why this installation is momentous for me.
Justin Installing Columns (Photo: Geo Davis)
[Let’s start with the] architectural salvage [of]… Greek Revival columns that we salvaged from Rosslyn’s future dining room back in 2006 in the early days or our renovation project. (Source: Architectural Salvage: Repurposed Columns)
Icehouses didn’t historically rely upon columns for structural support, of course. They were utilitarian buildings purpose built to preserve ice cut from lakes, ponds, and rivers during winter to ensure access to ice (and cold storage) during more temperate seasons. Icehouse design was practical. Embellishments like Greek Revival columns would have been impractical, perhaps even frivolous.
But, needless to say, Rosslyn‘s icehouse rehabilitation is not an historic preservation project. It is an adaptive reuse project. It’s heart and soul is relevance to us today. Think dynamic, multipurpose, vibrant. Think simple and minimalist, but beautiful. Think inviting. Think whimsical. Straddling an unlikely divide — home office (though I prefer the connotations of study/studio) and recreation/entertaining space — the icehouse we’re conjuring into existence will blend productivity, creativity, wellness, and the largely outdoor lifestyle that we favor.
Why, you might well ask, would we need two imposing columns inside the diminutive icehouse? While the question is reasonable, perhaps *need* is not the most appropriate evaluation. After all, adaptive reuse of a utility building originally constructed to fulfill a highly specific (and outdated) function obviously doesn’t *need* handsome embellishments for structural support. And yet the opportunity to re-integrate these historic Rosslyn elements into an otherwise utilitarian barn has presented a whimsical challenge that at some level echoes the unlikely marriage of work space and recreation hub we’re imagining into existence with this newest rehab project. (Source: Re-tuning Columns)
Just as fusing work and play in a single space might initially seem incompatible, designing a column flanked vestibule inside an icehouse might evoke concerns of incongruity. Fair concern. And final judgment will be for you to make once we reach completion.
Peter in Column Flanked Vestibule (Photo: Geo Davis)
And so as we stride toward completions of the icehouse rehabilitation I draw your attention not only to the finally repurposed columns that once supported a beam in Rosslyn’s dining room. Now let your eyes drift down to the floor, to the bookmatched ash threshold crafted byPeter from some of our homegrown stump-to-lumber hardwood. Yes, it’s breathtaking. And, yes, the charactered grain forms a large stylized heart (and an enormous grin!)
Columns, threshold, and header are finally coalescing in a long envisioned “spatial transition from the more intimate entrance and coffee bar into the loftier main room”. Witnessing this accomplishment after so many months of planning and anticipation filled me with joy. It affirmed hopes and plans, it rewarded a risky design decision, defining and framing two functionally distinct spaces without losing the transparency and porosity. It instills a playful unlikelihood in an otherwise mostly predictable environment. It filters light dramatically, adding sensuous silhouettes to an otherwise geometric linearity. It delineates without restricting. It is a suggestion. It is poetry.
And, although there’s more work to be completed before a final assessment is justified, I am immensely pleased with the column flanked vestibule. Thank you, Peter. Thank you, Justin.
Reinventing Rosslyn’s icehouse as a hybrid home office and recreation/entertaining space has taken center stage intermittently since last summer (planning board and permitting) and continuously since last autumn (deconstruction and reconstructing). In fact, it sometimes feels like the icehouse rehabilitation has eclipsed just about everything else. This evening’s snapshot, our icehouse backlit by setting sun, appears to show the building emitting a halo of light. It kind of captures the vibes of this project in recent months!
Backlit Icehouse, May 5, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Backlit, Haiku
Old icehouse backlit; sunsetting a prior use, moon rising a new.
I’ve talked plenty about this project metaphorically backlit against the ideas of historic rehabilitation and adaptive reuse. And I’ve examined ways in which this latest chapter in a slow rolling renovation that’s been ongoing in one capacity or another since 2006 is backlit by our lifestyle choice to leave NYC and relocate to Essex. But I haven’t really developed the literal, visual impact of this charming building — my “Multipurpose Man Cave” — offset by the sun settling into the Adirondacks.
Backlit Rehab
But this deserves some ink. As too sundown and the gloaming as observed from the soon-to-be-complete icehouse terrace, patio, hot tub,… Still an unphotogenic construction site, there are never these moments, like this evening, when I get a glimpse of how things might look and feel by midsummer.
For now, no more ink. Just a backlit snapshot of Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab looming large, glowing, dramatic.
Call it a 184-day streak. Or call it dogged determination. Either way I have 181 days to go until I reach my goal. And with each new post, each small victory, I am growing more and more confident that I will accomplish my mission of 365 posts, one complete year of daily updates beginning on August 1, 2022 and concluding on July 31, 2023.
So how to commemorate this midpoint milestone? With 6 months down and 6 months to go, it feels momentous enough to pause and praise my good fortune. But should this benchmark be acknowledged with a celebratory salute? A solemn ceremony? A toast, my first spirited sip after 31 days of teetotaling? (Yesterday marked the conclusion of my 7th or 8th, maybe even my 9th “dry January”.) Or perhaps a decadent dessert after a sugar free month? (For some sadomasochistic reason I’ve decided in recent years to add a sugar fast to alcohol abstention during the month of January, a timely recovery after the excesses of Thanksgiving-through-New Years…) A new month (ie. rabbit-rabbit) ritual transcending the delicious dinner I shared with Jim and Mark two nights ago at Juniper?
Slow Cooked Whole Rabbit: cumin, blood orange and smoked paprika glazed, corn tortillas, chimichurri, salsa fresca, refried beans (Source: Juniper at Hotel Vermont)
Maybe a romantic romp with my bride who suggested, upon retrieving me from the airport yesterday, that we celebrate a belated anniversary to compensate for the one we missed this past autumn when she was unwell. 17 years of marriage and 21 years together. I’m incredulous even as I type these numbers. Neither seems remotely possible. But my 50th birthday seemed similarly inaccurate this past spring, and I’m obliged to accept it.
Or how about we honor the 200th anniversary of Rosslyn’s front façade, ostensibly completed in 1823? (Apparently 3/5 of the building — the two window portion to the north of the entrance, as well as the entrance itself — was completed in 1820. The remaining 2/5, including the two windows to the south of the entrance and comprising the dining room downstairs, a guest bedroom and Susan’s study on the second floor, and another guest bedroom on the third floor, was most likely finished three years later in 1823, fulfilling the the architectural promise of this classic Federal home with Georgian and Greek Revival elements.
An auspicious confluence of milestones and anniversaries. I’m choosing to interpret this is a good omen even as I nevertheless acknowledge that I’ve meandered from my original mark, hoisting the flag at my halfway point, mid-journey in my post-a-day quest. I recall an earlier waypoint in this quest, an update I published on October 10, 2022 when I was still just shy of halfway to where I am today.
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. (Source: Old House Journaling)
Then as now my emphasis on everyday journaling remains a top priority.
Over the last few years, Susan and I have scrutinized our hopes and expectations with Rosslyn. We have reevaluated our plans as they originally were in 2006 when we embarked on this adventure and as those plans evolved during the decade and a half since. It’s been an extended period of introspection, evaluating our current wants and needs, endeavoring to align our future expectations and goals with respect to one another and with respect to Rosslyn, and challenging one another to brainstorm beyond the present.
There’s no question but that our impromptu quarantine at Rosslyn during the spring and summer of 2021 catalyzed some of this soul-searching. But so too have the many life changes in recent years. Our gradual shift toward Santa Fe as our base and Essex as our getaway rather than the other way around. The loss of Susan’s mother. My parents’ retirement near us in Santa Fe. Our nephews and nieces growing up and expanding their orbits far beyond Rosslyn. A perennially postponed but driving desire to collaborate on a smaller, efficient, creative lakeside home of a different DNA altogether, an unrepressable will to imagine into existence the sort of slow cooked (albeit shapeshifting) and highly experimental homestead we originally envisioned in 2003-5 when we first began to explore our Adirondack Coast homecoming. And there is that hiccup in our 2006 original timeline, our 2-4 year vision for homing at Rosslyn until we’d managed to reboot and reground, until we were ready for our next adventure. Those naive expectations were eclipsed — willingly and joyfully — within the first year or two.
So what does this have to do with my daily Rosslyn updates?
Everything.
In committing to this daily practice last summer I was acknowledging that I had some serious work to do. In order for us to constructively sort through out collective vision for the future, to determine whether we’re too fond of Rosslyn to proceed with plans for designing and building the lakeside retreat we’ve conjured over the years, to honestly assess our willingness and our readiness to hand this sanctuary over to another family, both Susan and I are undertaking the sort of “deep work” that will hopefully enable us to make some decisions. I’m talking about 100% honest, prolonged consideration. Rosslyn has quite literally been a part of our family, and not just our nuclear family. Can we untangle her? Are we willing to let her go? Can we joyfully pass the privilege on to new custodians? Or are we not yet ready?
For me this daily practice, digging deep into sixteen and a half years of living and loving Rosslyn, is my time and place to work through these questions. To sort it all out. To find peace and confidence in my convictions. And six months in, I believe that I’m on the right path. Not all the time. There have certainly been some tangles and tangents that got away from me before I realized what was happening and reined them in. But the constant conversation — *internal* as I study, reflect, and compose these installments as well as *external* as I share these updates and then interact with many of you — is reinvigorating and reawakening Rosslyn from her comfortable slumber (and me from mine!)
So this midpoint milestone is a profoundly significant benchmark for me personally. It’s the tangible representation of my germinating confidence and clarity. It’s the measurable mean between a conflicted outlook and the conviction I’m hoping to discover over the next six months. In a real sense, it’s a halfway point toward the sort of rehabilitation that we’ve been undertaking with Rosslyn’s buildings and grounds since 2006, only in this case the journey is profoundly personal. Instead of historic architectural rehabilitation, it is restoration of my innermost wonder, my romantic dreams, and my idealistic hopes. With passion reawakened and a map forward becoming more apparent each day, I’m tempted to see this benchmark as the sort of celebration enjoyed upon finally reaching a base camp, a lofty peak viewable in the distance foreshadows the ambitious ascent ahead but also offers a majestic affirmation of the reachability and proximity of the summit. Today marks just such a halfway point, an opportunity to appreciate the accomplishments so far, and an incentive to forge ahead.
Carley, Contemplating 33% Ahead (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
This is my 243rd Rosslyn update in daily succession. It completes an 8-month streak of daily old house journaling, the 2/3 mark in my quest to post every day for one year. I marked an earlier milestone — six months in and six months to go — with a summary of the aspirations guiding these posts.
With four months to go, I’d say this vision is still accurate, but the “mercurial transition / transformation we’re currently navigating” has received short shrift. The most psychologically probing (and the most elusive) of the subjects I’ve been exploring, it nevertheless gets sidestepped, dodged, abbreviated, and postponed.
And so I’m hoping to recalibrate in the weeks ahead, offering more perspective on our current state(s) of liminality. Dig deeper. Increase transparency. Invite you into the considerations and conundrums that we’re weighing. Big decisions on the horizon, and sometimes complex, sometimes conflicting feelings and ideas. Time for an open book…
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)
“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.
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 )
Welcome to spring! It’s currently 43° at Rosslyn, on target to hit 46° shortly. Sun is out. Snow is melting. Bulbs are bursting. So many remarkable signs and suggestions that the vernal equinox may indeed have marked the transition from winter to spring (daffodils and daylilies perking up, an auspicious sunset cloud formation, a handsome Barred Owl encounter,…)
Let’s start out with our just-passed solar equinox and then work our way toward the Barred Owl (Strix varia) and some celestial special effects from Susan’s end-of-day walk with Denise.
Vernal Equinox: Rosslyn Sundown (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Vernal Equinox-ish
In 2023, the official first day of spring is Monday, March 20. This date marks the “spring equinox” in the Northern Hemisphere… at 5:24 P.M. EDT. This… is the astronomical beginning of the spring season in the Northern Hemisphere… (Source: The Old Farmer’s Almanac)
That was yesterday. In fact, this post was intended to be published yesterday. On time. Relevant. But, sometimes searching for poetry preempts timely updates. Sorry.
Despite the fact that today’s post is slightly out of sync with the astronomical calendar, I couldn’t resist the chance to subtly revise yesterday’s draft and share it anyway. There was simply too much resonance. Yes, I’m biased. But after yesterday’s candid peak into Rosslyn’s artifact-packed carriage barn (and into my mental morass where architectural salvage, historic rehabilitation, poetic introspection, and memoiresque storytelling commingle) it felt, well, almost logical. Bear with me? I find that spring’s arrival rarely follows a predictable schedule. Each year unique. And, in spite of the heathen thrill that comes with romancing celestial and meteorological rituals, it would appear that the vernal equinox is merely a symbolic approximation of springtime.
An equinox occurs twice a year, around 20 March and 22 September. The word itself has several related definitions. The oldest meaning is the day when daytime and night are of approximately equal duration. (Wikipedia)
I excerpted the tidy part, eliminating the inevitable diatribe about day and night not really being the same length. A debate for another blogger. I love rituals, even when they’re easily scoffed. Here’s a flip riff by Phil Plait (@BadAstronomer) if you’d like a quick scoff before we romance the vernal equinox.
Today is the vernal equinox, what a lot of folks think of as the first day of spring (though given the forecast, people on the U.S. East Coast can be forgiven if they’re rolling their eyes at that thought, assuming their eyeballs aren’t frozen to their eyelids). (Slate)
The omnipresent smell of mud hints at spring’s earth entrance, and that’s good enough for me. No. More. Snow. Please!
Tony and I were returning from the forest beyond Library Brook where we’d been blazing the next meander in Rosslyn’s ongoing trail building initiative. The brook was swollen and running wild. The trees were a-chatter with avian neighbors and squirrels riffing raucous against the riparian chorus. It felt like a page out of Dylan Thomas. And then Tony spied the owl.
“Do you see it?” he hoarse-whispered, pointing up into the trees.
I didn’t. He guided my gaze. But I couldn’t identify the big blob on a branch. Wrong sunglasses.
“It’s an owl,” he said
We walked closer. I fumbled with my phone, launch the camera app, zoomed in as far as I could, snapped a couple of images. We kept walking. The owl swooped away, an immense span of plumage, arcing through trees and branches powerfully, gracefully without brushing a twig.
Disinclined by temperament to observe overt omens and symbolism in the world around me, I’m nonetheless receptive to the “singing underneath”. Sometimes life rhymes. I try to exercise humility and wonder in these moments. I endeavor to hear and observe and sometimes to record the poetry that presents itself. I’ll leave conclusions to others. For me, for now, questions are plenty.
Vernal Equinox: Day Lilies Reawakening (Photo: Geo Davis)
Daylilies
With snow, still covering much of the ground, bulbs are bursting up, unwilling or unable to wait. The earthy array above are day lilies, among the thousands of green shoots reaching skyward below the stonewall that divides our lower lawn from upper lawn.
Perhaps overly precocious sprouts. I’d venture a guess that some more freezing nights, possibly even some more snow might challenge these daylilies. And yet, as in all previous years, they will flourish, foliage thickening, stout stems reaching somewhere between knee and waist by Independence Day when they’ll explode in joyful orange blooms. They will. And yet I can’t help wondering if they’re premature?
Vernal Equinox: Cloud Theatre I (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Sundown Skies
As if conjuring orange blooms is contagious, the day’s spring preview weather concluded with a dash of colorful drama and cloud theatre extraordinaire.
Taken by Susan while winding down the day with Denise and Carley, ambling Blockhouse Road, likely lost in conversation. Phone photography sure has come a long way!
Vernal Equinox: Cloud Theatre II (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
So beguiling and mysterious is that second cloud theatre image that I’m sharing a tighter, second perspective.
Vernal Equinox: Cloud Theatre III (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Welcome back, springtime. What wonders do you have in store?
An ancient and neglected apple tree. Actually some sort of crab apple tree with fruit the size of golf balls. Large golf balls that were tart but delicious. Griffin loved to scarf them up when they carpeted the lawn in autumn.
Doug Decker cleans up ancient crab apple tree after hail storm hits Rosslyn on May, 16, 2012.
For six years I pruned and nourished the crab apple tree back to health. Aside from a largely rotten trunk. Nevertheless, each spring the fruit tree filled with blooms which by summer’s end had become much fruit.
More pruning. Another spring; even more apple blossoms. The hope of fruit.
Yesterday, May 16, 2012 the skies blackened too early for night and then the clouds erupted in a short but angry tantrum of driving rain, mothball-sized hail and driving wind. When the hail and rain stopped and the fog cleared, the crooked fruit tree had fallen, snapped off at her stem.
What wintery wonders shall I share with you today? How about a celebration (and showcase) of upcycled Christmas gifts dreamed into existence by three allstar members of our icehouse rehab team?
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
[pullquote]These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal.[/pullquote]
I talk and I type, but these three creative characters have reimagined and reinvented deconstruction debris into functional art and decor. They transformed a piece of old garapa decking and a handful of icehouse artifacts (uncovered during laborious hand excavation for the new foundation) into a handsome coatrack, and they transformed a gnarled piece of rusty steel back into a museum-worthy ice hook that turns the clock back 100+ years.
Let’s start with the photograph at the top of this post which Pam accompanied with the following note of explanation.
Hroth, Tony and I wanted to wish you both a very Merry Christmas. We came up with the idea to make a coat rack out of repurposed items. The wood is old garapa. I found the spikes in the icehouse during inventory and the hook was also discovered in the icehouse during excavation for the concrete floor/footers. Hroth custom made a handle for the ice hook. We also wanted to add a new hummingbird feeder to the garden outside of the breakfast area. Merry Christmas! — Pamuela Murphy
Perfection! Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I was curious how Hroth had fabricated the garapa handle for the ice hook out of old decking boards. It’s so round/cylindrical that it looks as if he’d used a lathe.
Two pieces of garapa laminated together. Started out about a 16 inch because it was easier to run through the table saw. I made an octagon out of it on the table saw, then used the big belt sander… I roughed it up a little bit. Didn’t want it to look too perfect. Then Pam suggested that we take a propane torch to it. Made it look older.
It was a fun project. I still need to seal the wood and the metal. Penetrating sealer works well on metal. It’s sharp… We were thinking you might want to put some corks on the ends… or garapa balls. That was the first thing I thought of. We can certainly do that. — Ottosen Hroth
Carving tiny garapa orbs to install on the spikes strikes me as the perfect way to complete the coat rack so that jackets can be hung without getting spikes. It’ll be a difficult-but-intriguing challenge! There must be some technique for creating a small wooden sphere out of a block of wood. Hhhmmm…
I can’t imagine more perfect Christmas gifts. Their collaboration has rendered layers of Rosslyn history — from the late 1800s and early 1900s when the icehouse was in use, through 2008 when we built the deck that yielded this garapa, to 2022 when the old deck was deconstructed and the icehouse rehabilitation was initiated — into timeless beauty that will adorn the icehouse when it is introduced/revealed next summer. These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal. Our gratitude is exceeded only by Hroth’s, Pam’s, and Tony’s collaborative accomplishment.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gift 2022: antique ice hook with handmade handle (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The flip-through gallery above offers a few more details, and all three (as the two featured photographs above) are documented inside the icehouse with mid-construction backdrops: old studs with new spray foam insulation and new subfloor ready for interior framing and hardwood flooring. It’s tempting to offer tidier or even fancier backdrops, but authenticity prevails. Future decor created from old materials, documented midstream the icehouse’s transformation. Future, past, and present. Concurrent history and hope, a timeless present, an artistic representation of this liminal moment.
Backstory to Upcycled Christmas Gifts
Susan and my gratitude to Pam, Hroth, and Tony is (and obviously should be) the focus of today’s Rosslyn Redux installment, but I can’t conclude without first considering a slightly more amplified retrospective, the backstory, if you will, to the new coat rack and restored ice hook.
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
In the photograph below, taken exactly fourteen years ago today, Warren Cross is putting the finishing touches on our first deck build. Although the perspective may be misleading given the still unbuilt garbage and recycling “shed” which today stands directly behind Warren, this is the northernmost extension of Rosslyn’s deck. The stone step (actually a repurposed hitching post chiseled from Chazy and Trenton limestone (aka “Essex stone”) and the rhododendron shrubs are not yet in place either.
But it you imagine the perspective as if you were standing just north of the morning room, looking back toward the carriage barn and icehouse, you’ll be oriented in no time. Oriented, yes, but nevertheless a bit disoriented too, I imagine, as you look upon a carpenter laboring in the snow to scribe and affix the garapa deck skirting / apron that will complete the installation that had began in the autumn with far more hospitable conditions.
Warren Cross completing garapa decking installation on December 22, 2008 (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s worth noting that Warren, already in his mature years when he worked on Rosslyn with us, not only threw himself into difficult endeavors like the one above, he contributed decades’ of experience and an unsurpassed work ethic that inspired everyone with whom he worked in 2008 and 2009. But there’s an even more notable memory that describes Warren. He was a gentleman. And he was a gentle man. It was a privilege to witness Warren’s collegiality, and Rosslyn profited enduringly from his expertise. But it was his disposition, his consideration, and his kindness that make me nostalgic when I hear him mentioned or when I catch sight of him in photographs.
In terms of memories conjured by this repurposed garapa decking, I should include Hroth’s “research” this past autumn into how best we might reuse the lumber. There was such anticipation and excitement in the hours he experimented and explored. The image below perfectly illustrates the hidden gold just waiting to reemerge from the deconstructed decking material.
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Hroth’s discoveries underpin our plan to panel the interior of the new icehouse bathroom with what for a decade and a half withstood the Adirondack Coast elements season after season, and a rambunctious parade of footfalls, barbecues, dog paws, wetsuits, etc. It’s as if the new coat rack exudes the anticipation and optimism that many of us brought to the journey of upcycling the old decking into the new paneling.
And there is an aside that I’m unable to resist mentioning. Pam’s late husband, Bob Murphy, who worked as our property caretaker and became an admired and dearly respected friend, several times removed and reinstalled Rosslyn’s garapa decking over the years — monitoring, triaging, and compensating for the failing TimberSIL substructure. He knew that we would need to rebuild the entire deck soon, and yet he waged a relentless campaign to extend the useful life of the deck as long as possible. I think he’d be proud of the work accomplished by the team this summer, and he sure would have loved being part of that team! And the icehouse rehab would have thrilled him. Needless to say, these upcycled Christmas gifts from Pam and Hroth and Tony also exude Bob’s smile, familiar chuckle, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
And what about that antique ice hook?
I mentioned above an antique ice hook, and the photograph below illustrates exactly what I was referring to. Disinterred by Tony while cleaning out and grading the dirt floor of the icehouse, this badly corroded artifact bears an uncanny resemblsnce to a common tool of yesteryear: the handheld hook. This implement was most often used for 1) grabbing and hauling ice blocks and/or 2) carrying hay bales. The location where this relic was discovered (as well as plenty of examples uncovered by quick research online) strongly suggest that this is an antique ice hook. (Source: Icehouse Rehab 01: The Ice Hook)
Isn’t a beauty? Well, rusty and corroded, but a beauty nonetheless, I think.
Antique Ice Hook, artifact unearthed during the icehouse rehabilitation, 2022 (Source: R.P. Murphy)
The prospect of restoring that ice hook crossed my mind at the time. But it struck me as a challenging proposition given the advanced state of decay. What a surreal transformation from rust-crusted phantom to display-ready relic! It too is marinated in memories, some recent and personal, others vague and distant. In the near rearview mirror are the painstaking efforts made by our team to secure the historic stone foundation beneath the icehouse while ensuring the structural integrity demanded by modern building codes. A labor of loves on the parts of so many. And today we can look back from the proud side of accomplishment. As for the more distant rearview, the antique mirror has succumbed to the influence of time, the glass crazed and hazy, the metallic silver chipped and flaking. And yet we can detect traces of laughter and gossip as blocks of ice were cut from the lake, hooked and hauled up to the icehouse, and stacked in tidy tiers for cooling and consumption during temperate times ahead.
A Glimmer of Springtime
In closing this runaway post, I would like to express my warmest gratitude for the upcycled Christmas gifts above, and for a new hummingbird feeder to welcome our exuberant avian friends back in the springtime. Taken together this medley of gifts excite in Susan and me the enthusiasm and optimism for the coming months of rehabilitation and mere months from now the opportunity to celebrate a project too long deferred and so often anticipated. With luck we’ll be rejoicing together in the newly completed icehouse by the time the hummingbirds return to Rosslyn.
Hummingbird Feeder 2022 Christmas Gift from Pam, Tony, and Hroth (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Thank you, Pam, Hroth, and Tony for these perfect presents. And thank you to everyone else I’ve mentioned above for enriching this home and our lives. I look forward to rekindling these memories when I hang my coat or my cap up each time I enter the icehouse. Merry Christmas to all!
