Tag: March

  • Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback

    Favored by Fortune: Sherwood Inn Flashback

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

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

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

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

    Here’s the original article about the Sherwood Inn.

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

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

    90-Year-Old Essex Home

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

  • Friend or Foe: Dandelions

    Friend or Foe: Dandelions

    It’s that remarkable season of reawakening, spring, glorious springtime! And more than all of the other blooms that announce the season of unslumbering, Dandelions remind us that nature is nourishing and vibrant and brilliantly colorful.

    Routinely dismissed, even abhored, as an annoying weed, dandelions are for me a welcome harbinger of warming temperatures, greening environs, several seasons of blooms and fruit and vegetables. And yet dandelions remain mostly symbolic representatives of reawakening, vivid reminders of the abundance we’ll soon celebrate.

    Friend or Foe: Dandelions (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Friend or Foe: Dandelions (Photo: Geo Davis)

    A decade or more ago Tom Duca introduced me and a gathering of Essex area friends to The Teeth of the Lion: The Story of the Beloved and Despised Dandelion by Anita Sanchez. His enthusiasm for her enthusiasm about dandelions made an impression on me that afternoon. I planned to read it, but it slipped off my radar. Until now. I’ve located a copy that is presently wending is way to me. So, soon I’ll be able to amplify my understanding (and presumably my appreciation) for dandelions.

    But even before educating myself I’ll comfortably come down on the side of dandelions bring friends. Yes, I know that many might consider them an invasive scourge peppering the perfection of an otherwise green lawn.

    Friend or Foe: Dandelions (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Friend or Foe: Dandelions (Photo: Geo Davis)

    But I do not share this disdain. Rather, dandelions evoke childhood wonder and enthusiasm for spring a perennially optimism inspiring season for me. Simply put springtime is seasonality’s metaphorical morning. And rambunctious riots of dandelions are one of the most exuberant symbols of the season. Persistent, yes, but in so many cases we’re able to recognize the merits of persistence. Why not dandelions?

    We know too that dandelions are a forager’s friends, Nature’s nourishing gift of vitamins and minerals after months of hibernal stinginess. I’ve enjoyed tender dandelion greens in a spring salad mixes from the store, but I’ve rarely made the effort to harvest these spicy freebies from the yard. It’s an embarrassing oversight I intend to remedy. Soon. And dandelion wine? So many experiments to explore…

    Friend or Foe: Dandelions (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Friend or Foe: Dandelions (Photo: Geo Davis)

    So for now, I’ll optimistically file dandelions as friend (and not foe) despite the proclivity of so many among my gardening aficionado cohort to vilify and endeavor to extirpate this sunny sojourner. If designation by and large comes down to bias, I’ve now made mine known. Caveat emptor. And once I’ve made it through Sanchez’s book I’ll be able to update this post with a meatier installment justifying my somewhat sentimental declaration that dandelions are our friends. Stay tuned…

  • Synchronous Progress

    Synchronous Progress

    It’s been a good week, and it’s not even over yet. Much gratitude is due the entire team as we move into a Friday with many moving parts and a growing balance sheet of synchronous progress in the icehouse, outside the icehouse, and throughout Rosslyn’s still muddy but increasingly springlike grounds.

    A photo essay (think more photos, less essay) will offer the best glimpse into the latest round of accomplishments. And behind all of these photos — if not literally behind the camera, in all cases behind the wrangling and tasking and managing and juggling and multitasking and quality control — is Pam Murphy. Our gratitude to everyone behind this week of synchronous progress, especially the woman who keeps it all together!

    Finishing Up Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Finishing Up Icehouse Ceiling (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    In the photo above installation of the T&G nickel gap on Rosslyn’s icehouse ceiling is. Almost. Done. Rumor has it that tomorrow the ceiling will be finished. Fingers crossed!

    Installing Icehouse Mini-split (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Installing Icehouse Mini-split (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    March has marked plenty of plumbing progress in the icehouse rehab, most recently installation of the admittedly unattractive but practical mini split that will keep this oasis cool in the steaming days of summer.

    East Icehouse Lamp Reinstalled (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    East Icehouse Lamp Reinstalled (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    Electrical headway includes reinstallation of the lamp next to the entrance door. Removed during installation of the insulated panels and clapboard siding, the patinated exterior sconce is now back in place.

    New Marvin Doors and Architectural Salvaged Door in Temporary “Paint Shop” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    New Marvin Doors and Architectural Salvaged Door in Temporary “Paint Shop” (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    The first of the Marvin Doors have been received from Windows & Doors by Brownell. We started the process back in August, and the still have a little over a month to wait for all of the windows. So for now we’ll get to work painting the doors and installing them. On the right of the photo is an old door that Peter has rebuilt and that is now repainted in satin White Dove by Benjamin Moore to match the rest of the icehouse interior trim.

    High Tunnel Almost Ready for Planting (Photo: Tony Foster)
    High Tunnel Almost Ready for Planting (Photo: Tony Foster)

    In other exciting spring news, Tony has done a remarkable job of preparing the high tunnel for early season planting. And check out that solar gain on a freezing day!

    Edging Bocce / Volleyball Court (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Edging Volleyball / Croquet Court (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    In addition to carpentry, plumbing, electrical, and gardening headway, some landscaping progress is also worth noting. In the photo above the lawn adjacent to the icehouse deck and terrace, has been crisply edged so that Bob Kaleita can fine-tune the site work and stone wall construction can begin.

    A hat tip to our Amish neighbors who’ve accelerated the landscaping grounds work AND split up the massive ash tree that fell a couple of weeks ago. Plenty of firewood now curing, a geometrically impeccable extension to the daylily bed, and plenty of edging including the new hemlock hedge planted last summer by Patrick McAuliff.

    Edging New Hemlock Hedge (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Edging New Hemlock Hedge (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    Crisp edging ready for mulch along the hemlocks. In the photo above the perspective is looking east toward Lake Champlain, and in the photo below looking west toward the Adirondacks.

    Edging New Hemlock Hedge (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Edging New Hemlock Hedge (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    And that’s just *part* of a busy week. Thank you, team!

  • Saint Patrick’s Day Recipe: Elk Green Chile Stew

    Saint Patrick’s Day Recipe: Elk Green Chile Stew

    With Saint Patrick’s Day upon us it strikes me as the perfect opportunity to update my venison green chile stew recipe with new stick-to-your-ribs dish that I prepared for friends last weekend. Why? Is today’s recipe Irish-influenced? Slow cooked in Guinness Stout? Neither! And the flavor profile is decidedly southwestern, not Irish. But how many opportunities are there to trot out an exceedingly *green* stew? And what better booze-buffer than Elk Green Chile Stew?!

    Elk Green Chile Stew (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Elk Green Chile Stew (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Here’s how I introduced my venison green chili stew (aka “green chili stew”) recipe back February 25, 2014.

    This time of year, green chile stew is an ideal core-warning, vitamin rich comfort food. If you’re only familiar with red chile, it’s time to try something new. The flavor is totally different, and you just might change your chile preferences. (Source: Venison Green Chile Stew)

    My 25+ year connection to Santa Fe underpins a hankering for green chile stew whenever conditions call for comfort food. This St. Patrick’s Day — cold and blustery with intermittent rain and a surplus of snow, slush, ice, and mid — is precisely when I crave a steaming bowl! Fortunately, I had just enough leftover to sate my appetite. The recipe below, like all stars really, gets better each day!

    Hatch Green Chile (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Hatch Green Chile (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Elk Green Chile Stew Recipe

    Consider the following recipe a rough guide, not a set of rules. (Ditto for all recipes, mine or otherwise!)

    Ingredients

    • 4 tbsp. olive oil
    • 3 medium/large onions, diced
    • 6 garlic cloves, minced
    • 3 lbs. elk, ground
    • 16 fl. oz. chicken or beef stock
    • 2-4 bay leaves
    • 4-6 cups green chiles, fire roasted/peeled/chopped
    • 4-5 medium potatoes, chopped
    • salt and pepper

    Preparation

    [I prepared this elk green chile stew recipe in an Instant Pot pressure cooker, but these directions can be adapted to crock and range cooking.]

    Heat olive oil in pressure cooker with lid off on low sauté setting. Add onions and garlic, stirring over low heat until the onions become soft and translucent. Add venison, and break up any large lumps of meat. Continue stirring and heating until ground meat is fully cooked and mixed with onions and garlic. Add remaining ingredients (except salt and pepper) and mix thoroughly. Secure pressure cooker lid, and cook under high pressure for 20 minutes. Allow pressure to release slowly, and change to slow cooker mode. Set temperature and timer for three hours (high) or five hours (low). Stir and check for adequate moisture from time to time. Salt and pepper to taste. Enjoy!

    Beck & Bulow Elk for Green Chile Stew (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Beck & Bulow Elk for Green Chile Stew (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Saint Patrick’s Day Stew

    Let’s dedicate this special Saint Patrick’s day twist on traditional, New Mexican green chili stew to the legendary Irish elk (Megaloceros giganteus). Sadly, no longer with us, this handsome specimen seems an appropriate subject of celebration on this holiday. I have relied upon a unique Santa Fe butcher, Beck & Bulow, to source this 100% free range grass fed and grass finished ground elk that was quickly and conveniently shipped to me in Essex.

    I should also mention that the Hatch green chile in the photograph above also originates in New Mexico. Although canned and jarred roasted green chile wouldn’t be our first choice if we were in Santa Fe right now, it certainly is convenient when we’re on the Adirondack Coast.

    Here are some snapshots from my preparation of the ultimate Saint Patrick’s Day feast: elk green chile stew. Bon appétit. Buen provecho. Bain sult as do bhia. (Apparently Irish…)

  • Meditative March

    Meditative March

    Mornings offer me moments of introspection, mostly optimistic meditations catalyzed by the dawning of a new day. A fresh start. So much pent up potential swelling. And like morning, springtime fills me with enthusiasm for what is possible. A seasonal morning. And so I’m finding myself lately absorbed in this liminal zone of daily and seasonal reawakening. Yes, it’s been a meditative March…

    Meditative March (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Meditative March (Photo: Geo Davis)

    This morning’s March 16, 2023 sunrise over Lake Champlain — with new snow still covering Rosslyn’s lawns and fields but the lake lapping languidly, never having frozen this winter — conjures exuberance and anticipation, both overlaid with dark silhouettes. There is heightened contrast and a lingering darkness. There is also explosive blooming of color and light. Our winter world is reawakening.

    With the official start of spring only days away, even the calendar acknowledges this liminal moment. Meditative March is not subtle in its instruction. Pause. Consider. Mindful morning meditations happen unbidden, but wonder wants throughout the day. Allow for it. Tea and rumination. A muddy meander. A hunt for green shoots parting the leaf rot, swollen buds bursting along stems and limbs, the Doppler effect of Canada geese migrating high overhead, locating last season’s allium stems hung for drying in a carriage barn horse stall,…

    Meditative March (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Meditative March (Photo: Geo Davis)

    There’s something about the light in that snapshot above — weak, filtered through cobwebs, illuminating edges, painterly, flirting with chiaroscuro — that mesmerizes me. It conveys that meditative March moodiness, as if the carriage barn, as if Rosslyn itself were ruminating, introspective, contemplative, wondering and wandering inward… Can a home brood?!?!

    I invite you to enjoy Mischa Maisky’s cello performance of Saint-Saëns’ Carnival of the Animals: The Swan coupled with the same photo below.

    https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cp2Y8r5AE2_/?igshid=YmMyMTA2M2Y=
  • Moonrise in March

    Moonrise in March

    Moonrise in March (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Moonrise in March (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Startled by the sight
    of lunar liftoff
    I slip-slide on ice,
    reel, rebalance, and
    then I remember:
    a full moon rising
    tomorrow, tonight
    penultimate night
    of winter’s waxing.

    The March moon shimmers
    on unfrozen lake,
    saluting springtime’s
    assured/unassured
    arrival two weeks —
    per the oracles,
    a frosty fortnight
    of whiplash weather —
    from this Monday eve.
  • Perspective vs. Nostalgia

    Perspective vs. Nostalgia

    Barns, March 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Barns, March 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    I am not quite sure where I belong but I have always been engaged with where I am. I like to think this gives me both a resistance to nostalgia and a breadth of perspective but I could be wrong. — Edward Relph (Source: Placeness.com)

    Much thinking these end-of-February, beginning-of-March days on seasonality and sense of belonging, on perspective — especially evolving perspectives — and nostalgia, sentimentality, wistful-if-illusory longing.

    This icehouse rehab, moving closer and closer to the vision that has beckoned for years, and the snowfall after snowfall after snowfall, such welcome gifts after a fairly light winter. These absorbing present tense plots are playing out against almost eighteen years of Rosslyn custodianship.

    Twin Tracks & Tranquility, March 2023 (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
    Twin Tracks & Tranquility, March 2023 (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

    Cross-country outings transporting me deep into memories that Susan and I made during our first winters together more than two decades ago. And deeper still, recollections of skiing as a child in the mid 1970s, with my younger brother and sister, with my mother.

    I’m learning something about perspective and nostalgia. Something still coalescing.

  • Saturday Snow Day

    Saturday Snow Day

    Susan Skiing Through Saturday Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Susan Skiing Through Saturday Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    No progress on the icehouse project today. None. By design. And by the benevolence of mother nature. Today we celebrated a Saturday snow day!

    Carley and Geo on Saturday Snow Day​​ (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
    Carley and Geo on Saturday Snow Day​​ (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

    Although Saturdays and Sundays are usually rest days for most people, our amazing team has worked through weekends and days-off for months in order to ensure forward motion seven days a week (with very few exceptions and holidays and extreme weather days) ever since this project got off the ground last fall. But today was a planned pause. To reboot. And to accommodate a major March blizzard.

    Carley at Library Brook on Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Carley at Library Brook on Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    So I share with you a few snapshots from a day that was snowing when we awoke and that’s still snowing as we head off to dinner.

    Carley on Saturday Snow Day​ (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
    Carley on Saturday Snow Day​ (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

    These first photos were taken during our late morning cross-country ski outing through Rosslyn’s back fields and forest. Overcast, snowy wonderland. These last two photos were taken earlier, easing into the snowy morning with Carley, Mud/WTR in hand, observing our avian neighbors breakfasting.

    Cardinals on Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Cardinals on Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Although primarily intended for songbirds, Rosslyn’s bird feeders also welcome enthusiastic opportunists like the mallards.

    Mallards on Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Mallards on Snow Day​ (Photo: Geo Davis)
  • Hammock Huddle Haiku

    Hammock Huddle Haiku

    Hammock Huddle (Source: Geo Davis)
    Hammock Huddle (Source: Geo Davis)

    Hankering for a hammock huddle this morning, so I’ll I revisit the photograph I shared on June 6 depicting a herd of hammocks near the orchard. Yes, the color is a little over juiced. And the shadows are dark almost to the point of feeling ominous. Or cozy? But this moment beckons this morning given yesterday’s storm damage. (I’ve included another image below capturing just how close one of the fallen trees came to both the icehouse and the hammock huddle.

    Hammock Huddle Haiku

    Together apart,
    plein air cocoons canopied
    beneath maple trees.
    — Geo Davis

    Pandemic Precursor

    While quarantining during the early months of the pandemic Susan and I spent time exploring and experimenting with aspects of our property that we’d never considered before. Or not recently, at least.

    Sixteen years have lulled us into habits, ways of living and looking at Rosslyn that have possibly become more confining than we’d realized prior to weeks-on-end of quarantine.

    We spent many afternoons and early evenings on the lawn of the abandoned clay tennis court (located west, northwest of the icehouse). It started because the early spring sunsets were best visible from here, but it continued because we discovered a fresh and inviting space and perspective that we’d previously overlooked. And this new vantage, this new ritual catalyzed a shift in our thinking. Wondering, really. We’d inadvertently stumbled upon a liminal space. And the longer we spent hammocking together near the glowing Solo stove fire pit gifted to us by our older nephew, bundling up as the evening grew chill, witnessing another pandemic sunset, the more our conversations and questions raced into exciting new places. Our wondering wandered further and further into liminality.

    Transitions. Flux. Liminality. Interstices. Inflection. Evolving… We are awash in transitions! (Source: Transitions)

    Three years later we’re navigating a tempest of transformation. But I’m tickling a tangent, so best to stick with our hammock huddle for now.

    Ensemble Hammocking

    Our earliest ensemble hammocking in this location, back in March or April 2020, was nestled up together in this wooden arc stand.

    Pandemic Hammocking 2020 (Source: Geo Davis)
    Pandemic Hammocking 2020 (Source: Geo Davis)

    Needless to say, no side-by-side reveal since we were quarantined, and we weren’t super swift with selfies…

    We’ve long loved hammocks, stringing them up throughout our property, so it occured to me that it would be fun to create a group of hammocks hanging together in the hopes that soon we’d be able to be joined by friends once again. Recumbent social distancing!

    The hammock huddle shown at the top of this post was born. The same is shown here, minus the giant maple tree that used to tower nearby.

    Hammock Huddle (Source: Geo Davis)
    Hammock Huddle (Source: Geo Davis)

    As it turns out, the hammock roundup has been a hit. For the third season in a row we’ve enjoyed group hammocking among the still adolescent stand of maple trees growing between the tennis court and the orchard.

    Yesterday‘s storm damage was distributed throughout our property, and the immense maple that succumbed in the photo stood right next to the hammock huddle. Guided through the forceful blow by some benevolent force, the towering tree exploded onto the ground without damaging the hammocks, the maple trees in which they are suspended, or for that matter any of the adjoining trees save a few branches here and there. It’s remarkable really. Even the gate through which we drive the tractor was unscathed. And, as I pointed out yesterday, if the wind been blowing in the opposite direction, the maple would likely have destroyed the icehouse that we are just beginning to rehabilitate. Instead, we have a new aperture of visible sky this morning and a year’s worth of firewood.

  • Boathouse Illustration Revisited

    Boathouse Illustration Revisited

    Back on March 28, 2022 I shared a whimsical watercolor illustration of Rosslyn's boathouse including some of the process. At the time I conceived of the exercise as a way to exercise my rudimentary watercolor abilities while enticing the universe to hasten the spring-to-summer transition.
    Revisiting my mid-March boathouse illustration as a black and white watercolor. Aaahhh… the magic of digital! (Source: Geo Davis)

    Back on March 28, 2022 I shared a whimsical boathouse illustration including some of my creation process. At the time I conceived of the exercise as a way to exercise my rudimentary watercolor abilities while enticing the universe to hasten the spring-to-summer transition. Verdict is out on whether or not my efforts wooed the universe. But the practice was a pleasure, and I’m resolving to make time for more watercolor illustrations this autumn and winter.

    You can click the back/forward arrows in the original Instagram post below to see some of the pre-finished phases.

    https://www.instagram.com/p/Cbqit9bOz6P/

     

    B&W vs. Color Boathouse Illustration

    So why revisit this potently pigmented image with achromatic ambitions?

    I’ve been experimenting for about a decade with black and white as a visual storytelling medium (carpemidlife.com and @carpemidlife). It’s part of a larger project stretching my comfort with creative risk — in poetry, essay, and storytelling and in photographs, collage, illustration, mixed media mashups, and even a little bit of video — as a way to repurpose midlife malaise into midlife motivation. One of the early decisions I made for focusing and structuring the project was restricting all image-making (and writing, for that matter) to black and white. We live in an era of magnificent digital imaging, stunning verisimilitude, oversaturated colors, and a panoply of intelligent filters, algorithms, etc. to augment reality.

    Make no mistake. I’m profoundly grateful to experience these magnificent modern advances in image making, but I find myself missing the granularity and character of the analog world. I explore this more at Carpe Midlife if provoked your curiosity. If not, I’ll return to the present context.

    So often in our sweet sixteen years as the stewards of Rosslyn, I’m drawn to the juxtaposition of old and new. In many respects rehabilitating Rosslyn and making our life here has blurred past, present, and future. History is alive. And similarly much of our quotidian existence is timeless. There’s a whimsical simultaneity of lives and times that infiltrates our lakeside lifestyle. And rather than resist it, I often find it enriching, even entertaining. And so I’ve come to playfully experiment, sometimes renovating that which is vintage or antique. Others times I accelerate aging. Or agelessness. And sometimes these shifts in perspective yield surprising, often refreshing new experiences.

    I was curious to see what might happen by repurposing a colorful new illustration as a colorless facsimile. Stripping away the cheerful colors, what remains? Is it an anemic phantom image? Does the emphasis change? The feeling?

    In my opinion there’s a world of difference between what I notice visually and what I feel internally in response to the black and white boathouse illustration at the top of this page and the color-soaked original below. What do you think?

    Back on March 28, 2022 I shared a whimsical watercolor illustration of Rosslyn's boathouse including some of the process. At the time I conceived of the exercise as a way to exercise my rudimentary watercolor abilities while enticing the universe to hasten the spring-to-summer transition.
    Original boathouse illustration watercolored cheerfully in hopes of hastening grey spring into technicolor summer! (Source: Geo Davis)

    From Boathouse-lust to Wonder-lust

    If you’re a longtime reader and you’re detecting a subtle shift in some of these recent blog and social media posts, you’re not wrong. You’re perceptive.

    There is a shift underway. Like so many whose views and lifestyles have evolved over the last couple of years — pandemic year and post-pandemic year (if we’re bold enough to assume the latter) — Susan and I have new stories to share about Rosslyn. We’re navigating a liminal space that is still unfurling it’s mysteries for us. As we find our way, I’ll share the experience. With a little luck, we will share the experience.

    But for now, I just want to acknowledge that this period of introspection and reflection and significant transition for us is undoubtedly woven into posts like this one. Sometimes familiarity and comfort are exactly what we need. And sometimes wondering and wandering away from the familiar and the comfortable can be just as important.