One of the four buildings still standing (if barely) when we purchased Rosslyn in 2006, rehabilitating the icehouse has long been a priority. And just as long — or almost as long — we’ve postponed all but its most critical preservation. As one of the extant bridges to Rosslyn’s past, we still hope/plan to tackle this utility building. The posts below will offer a glimpse into why, when, and maybe even how Rosslyn’s icehouse was, is, and will continue to be important.
Stair framing to the loft is complete! (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
First phase of interior framing (walls for bathroom, mechanical room, coffee bar, and loft floor) was an invigorating milestone in Rosslyn’s icehouse rehabilitation project. And then, installing the loft subfloor helped complete the transformation, visually defining the new spaces. But the most notable triumph during the interior framing phase is the stairway which has dramatically transformed—both visually and functionally—the construction site into a prototypical preview of Rosslyn’s icehouse reinvention.
Stringers level for stair framing to the icehouse loft. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
An avalanche of accolades on Hroth and Matt for successfully completing the stair framing to the icehouse loft. Bravo!
Stringers level for stair framing to the icehouse loft. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Of course, skilled carpentry is the foundational ingredient for framing a staircase, but there’s a fair bit of mathematics and geometry as well. And then there’s the question of codes compliance. Lots of precise and inflexible dimensions enduring the safety of stairs!
Stringers cut for stair framing to the icehouse loft. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
And all of these ingredients need to be carefully coordinated to ensure successful staircase framing.
Stringers cut for stair framing to the icehouse loft. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
In the days prior to framing the loft stairs, confirmations were ironed out with the inspector; three-way meetings between Hroth, Pam, and yours truly reviewed plans, verified field conditions against the plans, checked and double checked everything to ensure that we were all on the same page; and then Pam and I stepped aside to let the carpenters perform their alchemy.
Stringers cut for stair framing to the icehouse loft. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
I’ve juggled my photo sequence a bit in this post to keep things interesting, but it’s worth noting that the first photo at the top of the post actually shows the staircase. And then the next for photographs document the process of installing the stringers.
Mid-story landing 100% level for new stair framing. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
In addition to the stringers, Hroth reconfirmed that the landing is 100% level, eliminating problems down the road.
Stair Framing to the Loft (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Throughout stair framing verifying everything for level and plumb is critical so that micro adjustments can be made as needed.
Stair Framing to the Loft Complete! (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Once stringers are secured and sun-treads installed, stair framing is ready for for further structural integration.
Stair Framing to the Loft Complete! (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
And then, Hroth moved on to framing the tops of the stringers where railing balusters will land. And he’s even begun framing in the built-in shelves.
New bookshelves integrated into stair framing. (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Consider that word parade fair warning for where I’m headed. From dovetails to team dynamics, in the twinkling of an eye. At least, that was my plan in revisiting a flood of field notes. Instead my errand evolved into a meandering meditation on admittedly abstract, fairly freestyle associations between durable joinery and team dynamics.
So, if you’re the A-to-Z git-r-done type, this is a good post for you to skip. Probably. Unless you’ve already burned a cord of calories and you’re surfing a dopamine-endorphin wave, in which case this might be just the departure from your daily that the doctor ordered. (The proverbial doctor, not the real doctor.)
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s rewind a few weeks to my sudden and unanticipated decampment from Santa Fe to Essex.
Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
Icehouse Intermission
Mission interrupted, more to the point. Icehouse rehab back on ice for a week or two while we regrouped and remapped and, eventually, rebooted. Upon approaching Rosslyn by water — steely skies and surreal snowflakes fluttering occasionally (as if the special effects team had been downsized), an almost empty ferry, a mostly hibernating hamlet hunkering lakeside — mixed emotions roiled within me.
There was a wellspring of anticipation upon returning to inspect firsthand the team’s progress on the icehouse rehab, boathouse gangway, and some painting and tiling maintenance inside our home. There was also the poignant pique of a visit precipitated not by plan or passion but by infelicitous necessity. (Source: Snow Falling on Homecoming)
Three weeks ago this past Wednesday. The following days were invigorating. Encouraging.
By in large, this impromptu return to Rosslyn has been profoundly positive…
[“On the Level“, a poem drafted during my visit, reflects] the reassurance that I’m encountering, the confidence and conviction that are flowing back in after ebbing…
[…]
On the level, there’s plenty of optimism, despite inevitable setbacks. (Source: On the Level)
The progress was grounding, familiarizing myself physically with what I’d been living virtually, witnessing in person the dramatic transformation of this long-held vision into tangible, well built, inviting spaces and floors and walls and stairs and windows and doors. The volumes and the vessel that contains them, defines them, that had been gestating for almost two decades, was at last becoming believable due to the collaboration and teamwork of many.
Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
A furtive foray into the curious coalescence of still tender fractures and ruptures that drew me back to Rosslyn (and that continue to disclose themselves each day of my stay, reminders of quaking in recent weeks) but also the durable bonds and the abiding beauty that hold it all together. (Source: Bowtie & Broken Memento)
While it is indeed Rosslyn’s abiding beauty that beckoned us to this property in the first place and her abiding beauty that has buoyed us through years of historic rehabilitation (and personal rehab!), there are times when the border between broken and unbroken blurs and faultiness become fractures. In such cases it is the durable bonds that prevail, that steady the proverbial ship, that hold it all together.
Rarely, I find, does the journey tidily delineate between clear victories and clear setbacks. Ours is a nonbinary and highly subjective adventure, and this midwinter, mid-project hiatus is no exception. Disheartening and challenging, yes, but also an opportunity to acknowledge and to celebrate accomplishment, a notable benchmark on the quest to reinvent a 19th century utility building as a 21st century lifestyle hub on a par with Rosslyn’s gracious home, waterfront, and generous grounds.
In short, there was — and there is — far more to fête than to lament at this juncture.
Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
Back to Work & Field Notes
In what’s become a familiar pattern, today’s post was an orphaned draft, initiated as field notes during my recent Essex sojourn, and then adapted into a readout for the team to catalyze our onsite meetings into an actionable scope of work. That part happened. Practical. Necessary. Timely. Now, with the benefit of sufficient remove (for tempering tone and shifting perspective) I’m revisiting those field notes from a more meditative perspective. And yes, my reflection has been fueled in no small part by an obsession with joinery.
Before I go there, guiding you into the mesmerizing maze of my imagination (bread crumbs advised), let’s ground this soon-to-be-ungrounded stream of conscious in the days we spent together as a team. Here are a few excerpts recapping my extended site visit.
We met as a big group and as multiple smaller groups over more than a week. Much was rehashed, brainstormed, problematized, and decided during these encounters, so I’d like to follow up with a readout from our main meeting as well as some of the items that came out independently in my one-on-one followups. Please understand that some of what I’m including may feel like micromanaging or second-guessing skills, expertise, experience, etc. Please accept my apologies in advance, and understand that neither are among my objectives. However the last month has illustrated the downside to having direction and decision-making silo’ed up. By “flattening” the team, I am hoping to shift the focus toward a more collegial, more ensemble oriented approach. We have ample resources in our team (an almost embarrassing abundance of skill, passion, and work ethic!), and I want to make sure that everyone has an opportunity to contribute, to catch problems before they materialize, to learn from one another, and to avoid the bottlenecks and logjams that we can’t afford at this halfway point.
We will continue to rely on Pam, Peter, and Eric as the three leads or “co-captains” with the objective of streamlining on-site decision-making and progress. But I strongly encourage everyone to study the plans, to ask questions, to make suggestions, and to contribute to the collaborative success of the icehouse rehabilitation as we cartwheel toward the finish line.
Although we covered an expansive scope of work during our meetings, I gathered the gist into a detailed outline for everyone to review, edit, and augment prior to our team meeting the following week. In addition to onboarding everyone as a contributing and valuable member of the team while reaffirming a commitment to transparency as we move forward, I also hope to encourage the sort of cross pollination that has consistently defined the high point of this and previous projects.
Our follow-up team meeting fleshed out the scope of work and cemented the near term benchmarks and timeline. We will be able to revisit weekly with an eye to efficient project management, clear expectations, and an emphasis on incubating the sort of collaborative environment that yields the best results and ensures the most enthusiastic comradely. Goals set. Updates as we advance upon these goals.
So that sets the stage in a dry, rearview mirror sort of way.
What it overlooks is the morale, outlook ,and commitment of everyone with whom I met. Shuffling the team and shifting responsibilities midstream is unsettling and disruptive at best. The way this team came together, processed the change, stepped up to new responsibilities, and immediately, resolutely refocused on the new map and timelines was astounding. Confident and optimistic, proud of their accomplishments heretofore, eager to restore forward motion, and laser focused on the tight timeline, elevated expectation, and bountiful challenges. Unwavering. And hopeful that the full team might be reconstituted in the home stretch to finish up strong together, and to collectively commemorate their accomplishments come June.
And this is part of what takes me to the woodworking, and specifically joinery, as a metaphor. Heck, it’s not even just the sorts of joining and conjunction that are foundational to joinery and even carpentry. It’s the millennia old art and artisanry committed to joining, conjoining, and even mending that fascinates me. I’ve waxed on aplenty about wab-sabi, so I’ll sidestep a tangential deep dive now (ditto for Kintsugi.) A tidy touchstone will suffice.
Wabi-sabi (侘寂) is a world view centered on the acceptance of transience and imperfection. The aesthetic is sometimes described as one of appreciating beauty that is “imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete” in nature. (Source: Wikipedia)
Joining, conjoining, and reconjoining. No false disguise, no pretense, no faux facade. Bringing together. Bringing back together. I’m clearly still ill equipped to wordsmith my ideas into articulate or persuasive prose. But I’m working on it. And I’m hurling this half-baked post into the world with the unrestrained wish that it will settle on fertile soil, that it will germinate, and that I will be able to observe and learn how to communicate what it is that I’m discovering, this groundswell of insight that I’m experiencing without yet fully comprehending what it is. Bear with me, and I’ll do my best to interpret the lessons as they are learned.
In the mean time, I will draw in two compelling perspectives that may well shed some light.
Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
Joinery as Metaphor
Allow me a moment to weave in a consideration that deftly approaches the idea of woodworking as metaphor.
I am building a file cabinet for my office. It strikes me an apt metaphor for what we do as teachers in the classroom. I begin with a vision, followed by making a clearly developed plan. I gather the materials I will need – examining them for grain, quality, and fit. Each piece is cut just over the requisite length. I use a variety of joinery techniques to assemble the parts. The finished piece begins to take form. From the rough construction, wood is slowly and strategically removed, rounding edges and corners, sanding rough edges and surfaces, slowly revealing the finished shape. I stand back to see what continues to require attention. Final details are attended. Stain is gently rubbed in; varnish is brushed on – rubbed smooth between coats. I stand back and smile, satisfied with a pleasing, useful piece of furniture. — Bill Lindquist, January 3, 2012 (Source: The Purple Crayon)
Teaching. Yes. And team building. Team rebuilding.
Perhaps the following is only tangentially related, though it feels germane.
But I know full well that many woodworkers don’t want to hear about philosophy. What practical value can there possibly be in sitting around thinking about work? Isn’t it better just to roll up your sleeves and get to it?
I believe that this temptation to leave our brains at the door of the shop is rooted in a fundamental misunderstanding of human nature that separates our thinking from our doing…
We are whole beings, and although we have inner and outer aspects (mind/soul and body), we are essentially unities, not dualities… you cannot separate your mind from your body. You can’t put your thoughts and beliefs in one category and your practices in another.
So, why so much thinking and theory from a woodworking publication? Because, reader, you have a mind inextricably connected to those hands. And I am convinced that if we want our work to reflect the fullness of who we are, the why will be just as important as the how. — Joshua A. Klein, September 28, 2021 (Source: What’s With This Woodworking Philosophy Stuff? – Mortise & Tenon Magazine)
Absolutely. (And, as an aside, this reminds me that I’ve been ignoring another orphaned draft about Rosslyn’s 5w’s. Back on the punch list!)
Durable Joinery (Photo: Geo Davis)
At present I’m endeavoring to unweave our recent Rosslyn narrative just enough to re-braid the threads that anew, mending the challenges that have arisen, as if braiding a bridge over troubled water… (Or a bridge graft at the base of a partially girdled tree in Rosslyn’s orchard… Yikes! Mixed metaphors. And so long as I’m hoarding metaphors, what about kintsugi?)
Kintsugi is an ancient Japanese art in which broken pottery is mended with glue and gold honoring and highlighting the cracks rather than hiding them. The belief is the pottery is stronger and more valuable after the breakage and mending. Kintsugi is a powerful metaphor and physical art practice to explore layers of meaning of broken, to look at the pieces in new ways, and notice the ‘glue’ in our lives that assist us to mend, navigate challenging times and keep on going. — Kristin Pedemonti (Source: Mending What’s Broken | Steer Your Story)
The writhing winds are pulling my mind hither and yon, and I find myself too, too deep into this meandering meditation to abandon it. If I’ve lost you, I apologize. Know that we are lost together. But as fellow sojourners we are not idle, waiting for the illumination of morning. Perhaps we’ll stumble upon or quarry in the darkness.
In closing, and I promise you I am, allow me to apologize for this untethered and unedited runaway. More soon, I hope, on mortise and tenons and dovetails, joyful joinery, rejoinery and durable bonds. My imagination is conjuring an intricate scarf joint that conjoins by gathering, by honoring, by encouraging, a meticulously crafted union where stresses are distributed in all directions and resilient when forces challenge. My imagination is ringing with the melody of strengthen, even repairing a strained or failing joint. Join, conjoin, reconjoin…
It was a super Saturday for Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab. Several concurrent projects underway, but the most notable progress was the interior east elevation (in the loft) and the exterior west elevation. I’ll try to get out of the way and let the photos do the talking.
Icehouse West Elevation Clapboard Complete (Photo: Geo Davis)
The photo above is taken from the northwest of the barns, looking southwest toward the icehouse and carriage barn. Note that the clapboard installation is now complete on the west elevation of the icehouse. Congratulations to Supi and Calvin for crossing the west elevation and moving on to the east elevation.
West Elevation Clapboard Installation Complete (Photo: Geo Davis)
We’re still a couple of months shy of receiving our Marvin window delivery. It’s been a long, slow, process that started last August. But we’re more and more optimistic that we’ll be on target — or possibly even slightly ahead of schedule — when the windows arrive. For now you just have to imagine glass windows and doors and all of the polygons displaying ZIP System panels
Can you picture what does façade will look like early this summer? We can’t wait!
Loft East Elevation T&G Finished (Photo: Geo Davis)
The photograph above shows the east elevation inside the loft shortly after the tongue and groove nickel gap installation was complete. Matt started it yesterday, and he wrapped it up with Jarrett today.
Matt and Jarret Finished Loft Wall (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Hurrah! As of today we’ve begun installing tongue and groove nickel gap (aka “nickel gap” T&G) in the icehouse loft.
Installing tongue and groove nickel gap in the icehouse loft (Photo: Geo Davis)
Kudos to Matt Sayward for initiating tongue and groove nickel gap installation in the icehouse today. With Peter Vaiciulis guiding (and weeks’ worth of prepping, priming, and painting the paneling almost complete) we’ve launched a new chapter in our rehabilitation project. An exciting and long anticipated chapter because it marks the metaphorical skinning in of the preparatory work — sooo much structural and mechanical accomplishment — underpinning the transformation of Rosslyn’s late 1800s icehouse into a 21st century work+play hub.
Tongue and Groove vs Shiplap
Why did we decide to install tongue and groove nickel gap paneling inside the icehouse instead of shiplap as originally envisioned?
Credit goes first and foremost to Eric Crowningshield whose team collaborated on many, many, many linear feet of shiplap during the ADK Oasis Lakeside renovation, a couple of years ago. He encouraged us to consider switching to tongue and groove instead. By milling the paneling with a nickel gap, the finished results are indistinguishable from shiplap but the installation process is improved (and I believe that the structural integrity is also superior.)
In many respects, Matt took the lead installing the paneling on that project as well, so it’s feels fitting to witness him inaugurating this new chapter today. and the results are handsome. I’m looking forward to another day’s progress tomorrow.
Brushed vs Rolled Finish
In related news, Pam salvaged, four cut-offs from Matt’s work to experiment with re-painting solutions to the problem I broached yesterday. One cutting was preserved, as-is with the dimpled (i.e. orange peel) finish resulting from roller nap. The other samples received three different applications: a third coat with stiff bristle brush, a fourth coat with stiff bristle brush, and a preliminary sanding followed by a third coat with stiff bristle brush.
Although my photo failed to capture the textural differences, applying two additional brushed coats of Benjamin Moore White Dove (OC-17) made a significant improvement. So once Matt finishes installing the tongue and groove nickel gap on the east wall of the loft, we will apply to additional coats. Hoping it will look great!
Today the sun came out, the temperature rose, and the snow began to melt. With work progressing in the icehouse my mind drifted to the days when this building would have been bustling with activity, teams of horses hauling loads of ice from the lake for storage. I imagined the bittersweet emotions that must have surfaced on a day like today. The promise of spring. But ice melting almost as quickly as it was cut, provoking anxiety over whether or not sufficient ice would but cut and stores before temperate weather put a seasonal end to harvesting ice.
Harvesting Ice
Harvesting Ice Haiku
Winter lake cropping — horses, neighbors, and laughter — summer refreshment.
Harvesting Ice
Prior to the nineteenth century, ice harvesting was a local and small time operation… January or February was considered the best month for harvesting. Often communities or groups of farm families would work cooperatively, dividing the “crop” proportionally. In addition to hard work, the “icing” was a social occasion and opportunity for locals to pass gossip and news. (Source: New York Almanack)
Ice Harvesting Photos
These photographs are part of a newly acquired collection of historic reenactment documents that will be framed and displayed in Rosslyn’s icehouse when rehab is complete. More details soon…
I started an update a couple of weeks back that never made it out of the nest. An unfledged fledgling… At issue? Heat and humidity stabilization in the icehouse to properly acclimatize lumber pre-installation.
Temporary LP Monitor Heater (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Given a few savvy questions about how we planned to install finish woodwork (flooring, paneling, etc.) in the icehouse — which until recently still had no heat and still had leaky apertures where windows and doors won’t be installed until May — I had initiated a quick explanation for how we planned to temporarily stabilize the temperature and humidity to ensure predictable, effective lumber acclimatization. Initiated but then neglected. The questions have continued, mostly from carpenters a others savvy to the expansion and contraction of wood. So I’m returning to the topic, better late than never?!?! The silver lining? Our plan for stabilizing the heat and humidity was implemented a couple of weeks ago. And it’s working well.
Stabilizing Heat & Humidity in Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
After my last visit Eric and Peter coordinated, source, installed efficient LP monitor heater that is thermostatically controlled and piped temporarily to an external propane tank. This setup, in conjunction with well insulated apertures, has effectively enabled us to stabilize the interior of workspace for the coming months, creating a heat and humidity controlled “envelope” where temperature and moisture are stable so that finish lumber can be properly acclimatized.
Another positive twist of fate: Eric was able to source an oversized monitor heater (more than satisfying our BTU needs for the small space) that had been previously but lightly used at a discounted price. Win, win. Hurrah, Eric!
Stabilizing Heat & Humidity in Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The photo at the top of this post is the monitor heater, and the next two photographs show examples of interior vapor/air barriers (plus rock wool insulation) that were added to the apertures. Window and door framing was undertaken prior to installation of the ZIP System paneling, so there was already a decent barrier in place for these apertures. But we needed to further improve thermal and moisture barriers, especially on the north and west elevations where ample fenestration made it more challenging to control the interior work environment 24×7.
With the monitor installed and working well and the interior/exterior barrier effectively controlled, there remained one additional temporary-but-important complement: a secure, functional access for day-to-day work. Ad-hoc closure systems had been adequate early on, but it was time to install a convenient but lockable, well insulated, pre-hung exterior door.
Temporary Exterior Door (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Kudos to Peter and Eric buttoning up the space to ensure forward progress over the last couple of weeks. I’m looking forward to witnessing firsthand tomorrow afternoon the hardwood flooring (beech) in the loft, for example, an accomplishment that was possible only once the heat and humidity stabilization was complete and the materials had acclimated on site for a couple of weeks.
I’m grateful when progress is captured and conveyed by members of the team. Pam is especially mindful to keep me abreast of daily changes. Today several helpful snapshots popped up from a Peter. Yesterday several helpful visual updates arrived from Tony Foster including several color captures of clapboard siding.
Hidden in one, an accidental portrait of the photographer. Transformed into black and white, adjusted for contrast, and the image above emerges from the clapboard. As well, a haiku, like the blink of an eye…
Parenthetical Portrait Documenting days fortuitous photograph documenting self
There are so many personal moments, so many parenthetical portraits inadvertently woven into Rosslyn’s narrative. Thank you, Tony, for another.
Icehouse Interior Paint: Pale Oak & White Dove (Source: Geo Davis)
We’ve decided on interior paint colors for the icehouse.
Icehouse Interior Paint: Pale Oak & White Dove (Source: Geo Davis)
Benjamin Moore Pale Oak (OC-20) for the tongue and groove “nickel gap” wall paneling, and Benjamin MooreWhite Dove (OC-17) for the ceilings, trim, columns, windows, doors, etc.
Icehouse Interior Paint: Pale Oak & White Dove (Source: Geo Davis)
Walls and ceiling will be painted in eggshell, and trim will be satin.
Icehouse Interior Paint: Pale Oak & White Dove (Source: Geo Davis)
It’s an a winning combination that will add a hint of warmth and a subtle contrast.
Icehouse Interior Paint: Pale Oak & White Dove (Source: Geo Davis)
Notice something peculiar about our clapboard siding installation?
Siding Before Windows? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Typically windows (and doors) would be installed before siding. And before trim. It works better. For lots of reasons.
Siding Before Windows? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
But… We’ve added an extra challenge. Not by choice. Our timeline on this project, reasonable last summer, became more compressed as summer slid into autumn and then yawned into winter. A lot, a LOT has happened over the past 4-5 months. But the finish line is swiftly approaching. Think three and a half months.
Siding Before Windows? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
We had hoped to initiate the custom window and door order last August. And then last September. But it wasn’t until October that the contract was inked and the deposit was paid. In 20+ years of renovating, I’ve never witnessed a blame game that successfully accelerated a timeline, so I’ll sidestep reasons for a late start (and the many months long delivery schedule) to explain that windows won’t arrive until early May. Doors will start to trickle in next week, but windows will arrive in the final weeks of this project! How exactly that’s going to work out remains an anxiety inducing mystery. But at least you can understand the upside down sequence. Siding now. Windows later. Trim at the 11th hour!
Siding Before Windows? (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Wish. Us. Luck. Or better yet, come help us in May!
Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Today’s ferry ride from Charlotte to Essex — with snow falling on homecoming — tasted bittersweet if vaguely familiar. There was a wellspring of anticipation upon returning to inspect firsthand the team’s progress on the icehouse rehab, boathouse gangway, and some painting and tiling maintenance inside our home. There was also the poignant pique of a visit precipitated not by plan or passion but by infelicitous necessity.
The circumstances of my sojourn need no airing now since, perhaps, the “better part of valor is discretion“. So let’s skip the preamble and fast forward to the purely positive, right?
The cold, blustery ferry ride. The on-again, off-again frenzies of flurries pointillistic-pixelating the watery panorama, the approach to Essex, the desaturated vision of Rosslyn’s boathouse, the almost empty ferry queue, and the entirely empty roadway home.
Hhhmmm… Still shy of the purely positive, but hold tight. It’s coming.
Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles: January 16, 2014 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles
That blue-gray veiled waterfront snapshot dates from a post I shared on January 16, 2014. Just over nine years ago. And the title, “Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles“, remanifested in muddled facsimile (snow falling on hemlocks…) as I pulled in the driveway, observing the row of new evergreens planted along the norther edge of the front yard last spring/summer. (Which reminds me, I’ve still not posted those updates. Best get on with it before the one-year anniversary!)
The photo bears a close similarity with today, and this drift of words struck me as uncanny, sort of the mirrored reflection of my sentiments upon arriving today.
A parting glimpse of the boathouse blurred beyond veil of soggy snowflakes. Southwestern sirens are calling me away — by ferry, airplane and rental jalopy — so I leave the homestead in the able care of my bride and my dog for a few days. I’m willing deep drifts of powdery snow upon my return! (Source: Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles)
And this, fair reader, is where the positive uptick begins.
Another whirlwind visit, but rather than a whirlwind away in Santa Fe, it was to be a whirlwind in Essex. I took note of that. Just shy of a decade; a not-so-subtle shift. And then there was that twin allusion to the recently re-roofed icehouse, long since silver-foxed, and to David Guterson’s novel which had moved me then but has slowly vanished like the ferry’s wake resolving back into the surface of the lake. And that transformation from cedars, actually American arborvitae (known locally as “cedars” or “white cedars”) to hemlocks resonated as well.
Snow Falling on Hemlocks
Remembering the micropoem with macropotence. Superpowers.
There was no crow today to catalyze my “change of mood”. There were birds at the bird feeders beside the deck and beneath the leafless gingko tree. And several mallards retrieving fallen birdseed from the snow beneath the feeders. And the new row of hemlocks, similar to the old row of hemlocks on the other side of the property, looked green black beneath their frosted cloaks. But it wasn’t the songbirds, the mallards, or the hemlocks that “saved some part / Of a day I had rued.”
Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Snow Falling on the Icehouse
It was gathering with Tony and Peter and Steve inside the icehouse, taking in the awesome transformation from dirt floored shell of a utility building to micro mansion. A soaring one-room wonderland with a loft that thrills the 10-year old still overmuch alive in me. A barn loft with a handsome, homey stair rather than a ladder. A stout rebuild with an airy energy. An icehouse warm against the frosty afternoon despite the fact that no heat was running. A small scale sanctuary for writing and reading and creating the day away.
After meeting with the members of the team on hand I wandered, cold, and snow capping my hat and shoulders around and around, studying sightlines, editing hardscape and landscape plans, evolving furniture plans. After several months away, inspecting and and guiding and absorbing the progress from a digital distance that distorts the approximately 2,000 miles of reality jam-packed between me and the actual timbers and window openings and stair landing that have risen in the empty volume I left behind in September. Virtual reality is not reality. But walking and touching and rapping my knuckles and eyeballing alignments and sitting in a folding chair exactly where my desk chair will be several months from now,…
Snow Falling on Homecoming
This is the uptick. Where I felt tormented and conflicted in recent days, even as the ferry glided across the chilly lake, I now feel swollen with optimism. And underpinning the optimism is profound pride and gratitude for the work that has been completed and to the team who made this possible. Thank you Hroth, Pam, Tony, Eric, Matt, Brandon, Ben, Justin, Jarrett, Bob, Phil, Zack, David, Steve, Kevin, and everyone else I’m inadvertently overlooking. Your hard work and perseverance have begun to transform a vision into a building — an environment for creativity and productivity and entertainment — worthy of the handsome heritage that this historic property deserves. Susan and I are profoundly grateful to you all.
Matt and Supi Trim Icehouse, West Elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Today I’m pleased to post a quick update on the icehouse trim and clapboard installation. Temperate conditions are proving a bonus to this exciting progress. In the photo above Matt and Supi are wrapping up with the new trim so that the Benjamin Obdyke Slicker and clapboard can be installed.
The unique, vertically-channeled, three-dimensional matrix of Slicker® Classic provides a continuous space for drainage and drying, a thermal break and pressure equalization—eliminating the threat of trapped moisture. (Source: Slicker® Classic Rainscreen – Benjamin Obdyke)
This is a new product for us, and I’m optimistic that it will benefit the longevity of the cedar siding, which we ordered pre-primed and which we’re painting with two coats of paint (in the “paint shop” storage container) prior to installation.
Installing Trim, Slicker, and Temporary Window Grounds on Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the second photo you get a glimpse of the Slicker installation, an unfortunate color contribution rendering the temporarily green (ZIP System) building even more of an eyesore until the clapboard siding conceals it. Insect screen has been integrated into our installation to ensure that our insect neighbors look elsewhere for comfy accomodations.
Tony Installing Clapboard on Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Clapboard (and slicker) in this next photo are progressing up the southern elevation. It’s a pretty dramatic transformation after looking at the glowing green icehouse, a notably incongruous focal point especially when surrounded by snow. We’re focusing on the southern and northern elevations first since they’ll allow for quick progress and fewer challenges.
Calvin, Tony, and Matt Install Clapboard on Icehouse, North Elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Once Calvin and Tony are super comfortable with the icehouse siding installation given this slightly tricky historic rehabilitation (angles, etc. are never quite true) they will tackle clapboard installation on the gable ends. With the hustle and experience of Tony and Calvin — plus oversight from Peter, Pam, and Eric — this next step will advance smoothly. And soon enough we’ll be able to celebrate a handsome exterior.
Calvin and Tony Install Clapboard on Icehouse, North Elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Eric, Matt, Jarrett, Supi and Peter will continue installing trim boards throughout the rest of the week/weekend (and temporary window “grounds” that will be replaced when the windows and doors arrive) so that the gable ends are ready for clapboard. Stay tuned for updates.
Surplus Building Materials: garapa, slate, and marble (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Exciting icehouse rehab progress in recent days, so I’m due for an exciting update or two. But first I need to whittle down the backlog of overdue posts, especially some of those dealing with how we’re transforming some of our surplus building materials into exciting design elements in the reimagined icehouse. I can anticipate your interest flagging. Surplus building materials? Isn’t that about as exciting as yesterday’s leftover?!?! Well, perhaps, but hold that thought for a moment.
It struck me [recently] how similar edible leftovers and building materials can be. Think of surplus lumber and architectural salvage. They get pushed to the back of the proverbial fridge (in our case, usually one of the outbuildings) in the hopes of one day becoming the ingredients for something relevant and exciting and new. (Source: Leftovers as Ingredients)
In addition to repurposing this handsome historic building, we have endeavored to repurpose as many surplus building materials and architectural salvage artifacts as reasonable (i.e. functionally and aesthetically viable) in the design and rehabilitation process. (Source: Leftovers as Ingredients)
You may remember the mixed species flooring experiment (which incidentally is only a day or two away from an exciting update!) or the repurposed columns. Maybe the upcycled coatrack or the deconstructed-deck-upcycled-into-paneling project that’s already a couple of months in process… The truth is there are multiple ways that we’re endeavoring to breathe new life into construction leftovers and surplus building materials, and I’m embarrassingly overdue with updates.
So today I’d like to share with you a previously undisclosed scheme that’s at last approaching a final decision.
Surplus Building Materials: slate and marble (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In addition to garapa walls — picture amber hued, time patinated, hand milled 4″ boards installed horizontally with a nickel gap — the icehouse bathroom floor and shower will be clad with leftover tiles. That’s right, surplus building materials. Did I lose you again? I hope not, because we’re getting pretty close to a truly handsome combination.
Most likely the floor will green-gray slate that we over-ordered during the Lapine House renovation in 2005-6. We loved it then, and we love it now. And it looks perfect with the upcycled garapa! The corner shower (two tiles walls and two glass walls) will likely have this same slate integrated into the east and south walls, but that detail is still evolving. I promise an update very soon, since we’re running out of time to make a final decision. Necessity is the mother of invention…
And the base of the shower will likely reuse marble tiles from our master bathroom shower. The understated calacatta marble complements the slate, and the contrast between the elegance of marble and the earthiness of slate is appealing, especially locating the marble at the base and the marble in a more prominent position. We’re also considering the possibility of combining another unlikely tile in the shower, smoky green 3″x6″ glass tiles, these surplus building materials from a change-order on a client project Susan designed a few years ago.
Surplus Building Materials: garapa, slate, and marble (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Note: If you noticed a difference between the image at the top of this post and the similar image above, the first image offers a slightly truer color representation. Pam dampened the garapa and slate to approximate what the walls and flooring will look once the material is sealed.
