Tag: Pollyanna

  • Repainting Entrance Hallway, 2023

    Repainting Entrance Hallway, 2023

    Repainting Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Repainting Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    A Jeroboam of gratitude to Kasey McKenna and Karly McKenna for their exceptional accomplishment repainting the entrance hallway. It looks superb! The lighting in the picture above doesn’t do justice to the work in progress, nor now that repainting the entrance hallway is complete. Lighting was poor. And the intention was just a quick progress report. Ditto for this next photo.

    Repainting Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Repainting Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    But I’ll be snapping some additional photos soon, hopefully with dramatic morning light illuminating the front hallways downstairs and upstairs. Until then, here’s a quick video walkthrough.

     
     
     
     
     
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    A post shared by (@rosslynredux)

    Flashback to Yellow Entrance Hallway

    Late last August I reflected on the morning light in the front hallway, shared a moody morning photo as well as this warming shot that I took July 8, 2019.

    Morning Light, Front Hallway, July 8, 2019 (Source: Geo Davis)​
    Morning Light, Front Hallway, July 8, 2019 (Source: Geo Davis)​

    The mood and energy of this photograph perfectly conveys the opening moments of the daydream that I relived countless times in [late 2004 through early 2006 during] the extended prologue to our acquisition of this home. Although the interior of Rosslyn’s front hallway was in decidedly rougher shape during our early visits to the house…, I imagined it looking — and even more importantly — feeling just like this. (Source: Morning Light, Front Hallway)

    I accompanied the photos in the post with a haiku, falling back on my Pollyanna confidence that poetry somehow captures what words and lenses overlook.

    Morning Light Haiku
    Mellow morning lites.
    Merry mantequilla lights.
    Durable daydream.
                         — Geo Davis

    Needless to say, I remain a believer in the poetics of place. The following excerpt follows from the same morning rumination.

    When Susan and I decided on paint colors, I pushed for yellow. She wasn’t particularly keen. I no longer recollect what color she desired, but my yen for yellow was quite simply a yielding to this daydream. My imagination had confected a morning vibe that needed to be experienced in reality. Not a particularly compelling argument when horse trading with Susan over design decisions, but I ultimately prevailed. Trim we agreed on early throughout the house. Beach hardwood flooring, the period chandelier and wall mounted lighting, the rug, the art,… all of these were joint decisions. But the yellow walls remain a point of disagreement even now. In fact, we’re considering a change, and given her willingness to accommodate me for the better part of a decade and a half with faint yellow walls in both halls, I’m inclined to yield at last. (Source: Morning Light, Front Hallway)

    And this brings us to the present. Or just before the present when I agreed that it was Susan’s turn to pick a new color since we’re overdue for repainting the entrance hallway.

    Fast Forward to Monterey White

    She sent me this list of preferred colors, carefully chosen to complement the color of the stair treads (Benjamin Moore‘s Clarksville Gray) that lead upstairs (as well as the hallway floor upstairs.)

    Susan's Benjamin Moore Sample List (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
    Susan’s Benjamin Moore Sample List (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

    She had agreed to meet me partway by allowing that the new color not be a complete departure from the pale yellow paint that had lived in my mind for a couple of years and on the walls of both the first and second floor hallways for the better part of a decade and a half. This list represents her compromise. So off to the paint store I went for samples.

    Benjamin Moore Paint Samples (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Benjamin Moore Paint Samples (Photo: Geo Davis)

    The next step was to paint some swatches onto the walls alongside the trim and the downstairs beech flooring.

    Sample Paint Swatches for Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Sample Paint Swatches for Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Although I’ve manage to crop out the flooring inadvertently, the swatches still capture the wide range in tones and hues. Here are the swatches on the mid-flooring landing, adjacent to the Clarksville Gray floor.

    Sample Paint Swatches for Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
    Sample Paint Swatches for Entrance Hallway, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)

    Again, not the best photos, but you get the point.

    It’s worth noting that there was general consensus around Monterey White which is second from the left on the upper row of swatches in the image above. It is the second from the right on the lower row in the preceding photo. You can see that it has some of the warmth of the yellow (albeit without much of the yellow and a generally grayer cast). Here it is in Benjamin Moore’s color chip, adjacent to the Clarksville Gray which we all agreed was an agreeable combination. 

    And the Winner is... Benjamin Moore's Monterey White (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
    And the Winner is… Benjamin Moore’s Monterey White (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)

    In the video above, the finished paint job is in fact somewhat reminiscent of the old color. Granted, Pam shot the video on a gray day which and low light. The result emphasizes the gray hue. But several of us, upon watching the walkthrough, commented on how similar it appeared to the previous color. 

    A closer inspection during the cutting in process however captures the significant change.

    Repainting Entrance Hallway with Benjamin Moore's Monterey White (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
    Repainting Entrance Hallway with Benjamin Moore’s Monterey White (Photo: R.P. Murphy)

    I look forward to watching the space fill with early morning sunshine soon. How much will it rekindle the nostalgic daydream? Or will it feel like the departure that Susan has long anticipated? I’ll share an update soon…

  • John Deere Gator: Three Generations

    John Deere Gator: Three Generations

    John Deere Gator: Three Generations (Source: Geo Davis)
    John Deere Gator: Three Generations (Source: Geo Davis)

    With 70+acres to maintain at Rosslyn, ADK Oasis “Highlawn”, and ADK Oasis “Lakeside”, the John Deere Gator is an omnipresent and much depended upon utility vehicle for us. Whether hauling compost or pulling the wood splitter or chipper; moving fire pits or transporting waterskis, windsurfers, paddle boards, wetsuits and life jackets back-and-forth, to-and-from the boathouse; assisting with peach, apple, and pear harvest or just a quick inspection of the wildlife habitat along Library Brook; our Gators are indispensable.

    John Deere Gator: The New Generation (Source: Geo Davis)
    John Deere Gator: The New Generation (Source: Geo Davis)

    And so it happens that we decided at the end of last summer that it was time to place an order for a new TH 6×4 John Deere. This workhorse remains one of the best performance utility vehicles in their lineup, and we’ve been fans for a long time. But, speaking of long times, this 6-wheeler wasn’t always a 6-wheeler. What? That’s right, you can see the new arrival above. Two front wheels for steering, and four wheels under the bed to help spread the heavy load and provide reliable 4×4 traction. But if you look at the middle of three John Deere utility vehicles in the first / top image (above) you’ll see that it only has five wheels. That’s right, only one wheel up front.

    John Deere Gator Wrangling

    For the sake of accuracy it’s worth noting that the 5-wheeler technically isn’t a Gator. It’s a John Deere AMT 626, and it was the oldest of these utility vehicles in our fleet. We actually inherited from my parents when they sold their Rock Harbor home a couple of years ago. It’s vintage! But it was built John Deere tough, and I expect it’s got a good many years still in it.

    That said, it wasn’t starting. Not sure why, but it would crank and fail to catch. So we combined delivery of the new Gator with servicing for the AMT 626 and our other 6-wheel Gator. With luck we’ll get good news on the 5-wheeler AND 6-wheeler soon which means we’ll have the chance to re-home the AMT 626. We had good luck re-homing our Husqvarna EZ4824 zero turn mower earlier this summer, so I’m waxing Pollyanna on another opportunity to downsize while helping out a neighbor. Stay tuned.

    As it turns out, watching the recovery of the unwilling-to-start AMT 626 was fun, so I posted a short Instagram video update, “Gator Wrangling?!?!” Perhaps my sense of humor (and wonder) is an acquired taste…

    John Deere Gator: Servicing 1st and 2nd Generation (Source: Geo Davis)
    John Deere Gator: Servicing 1st and 2nd Generation (Source: Geo Davis)

    In the photo above the older John Deere Gator (left) and the 5-wheel John Deere AMT 626 are loaded onto the flatbed for the journey north to United Ag & Turf for service. Many thanks for the delivery and pickup. And thank you, Mowie (supervising from the Gator bed in the photo below) for supervising.

    John Deere Gator: Off with the old... (Source: Geo Davis)
    John Deere Gator: Off with the old… (Source: Geo Davis)

  • Cedar-Apple Rust on Pixie Crunch Apple Trees

    Cedar-Apple Rust on Pixie Crunch Apple Trees

    Over the last two weeks I’ve observed two young Pixie Crunch apple trees in our orchard succumbing to cedar-apple rust. Or so I suspect.

    I’m no plant pathology expert. And I’m an eager but admittedly amateur pomologist. So my hypothesis that dread cedar-apple rust has infiltrated Rosslyn’s orchard may be premature and far off target. (Do you detect my optimism?) Perhaps one of my astute readers will be able to help sort this one out.

    Is this cedar-apple rust on Rosslyn's apple trees?
    Is this cedar-apple rust on Rosslyn’s apple trees?

    July delivered the heaviest pressure from Japanese beetles that we have experienced since arriving in Essex, and some of the fruit trees have been largely defoliated by the hungry visitors. (The iridescent buggers are especially fond of stone fruit.) But they don’t seem to be the culprits in the case of the colorfully mottled apple trees.

    It’s worth noting that the Pixie Crunch are the only apple trees affected. I plant a diverse mix of fruit trees with usually no more than a couple of each individual variety. This seems to be a blessing because none of the other orchard trees appear to be affected. So far.

    It’s also worth noting that the affliction doesn’t seem to kill the trees. It damages the lower leaves but allows new growth higher on the trees. While it is possible that the blight is slowly advancing upward, it does not appear to have spread further up the trees, only to have become more pronounced on the lower portions.

    I’m hoping that the condition is not terminal, that it will not spread to other trees in the orchard, and – this is my my most ambitious pipe dream – that I’ve misdiagnosed the affliction as cedar-apple rust. After all, it is actually quite a beautiful coloring. Multicolored polka-dots, yellows and oranges against summer green. A new fashion trend?

    But Pollyanna fancies aside, I’d like to identify it as soon as possible so that I can attempt to treat it so that the apple trees can recover and focus their energy on new growth instead of combating the disease. Or, worst case scenario, if it turns out to be something that is slowly killing the trees (and may infect other apple trees,) I’m inclined to remove the Pixie Crunch trees now and replace them this fall.

    I welcome your feedback, and I will do my best to keep you posted as I learn more and try to resolve the problem.

    So what do you think? Cedar-apple rust? Something else? Although I dread admitting it, I’m fairly convinced that we’re battling a light invasion of cedar-apple rust which has undoubtedly evolved quite happily, unimpeded in the old meadows, volleying back and forth between the native cedars and old abandoned apple trees.

    To brace myself, I’m digging into the nitty-gritty details. Anticipate a more in-depth look at cedar-apple rust soon as it appears the most likely suspect, especially since we have several Eastern Red Cedars (Juniperus virginiana) nearby upon which I’ve frequently witnessed (and photographed) the telltale galls…

  • Veggie Patch Lullaby

    It’s that time of year again when we put the vegetable garden to sleep.

    I’ve been asked if it isn’t bittersweet ripping out limp, frosted tomato plants and tilling under the rotting stems of zucchini and cantaloupe.

    Leaves are gone and frost is frequent, but Rosslyn's veggie patch is no crying matter.
    The leaves are gone and frost is frequent, but Rosslyn’s veggie patch is no crying matter. Far from it!

    And you know, it really isn’t bittersweet. It’s a celebration of another bountiful summer, eating delicious, fresh produce harvested from a small plot of dirt a short walk from my kitchen. And it’s a celebration of the bounty yet to come. I know that sounds sort of “woo-woo” Pollyanna-ish, but I genuinely mean it. Putting this summer’s garden to bed is actually a way of starting on next summer’s vegetable garden.

    I love composting almost as much as gardening!

    Besides, there’s still so much happening in the garden. Shortly we’ll begin harvesting leeks and that’ll continue through Thanksgiving, maybe even Christmas if the ground doesn’t freeze.

    I've stripped the Brussels sprouts in the hopes of fattening their frost-sweetened treats.
    I’ve stripped the Brussels sprouts in the hopes of fattening their frost-sweetened treats.

    And I’ve just finished knocking most of the foliage off of our Brussels sprouts so they can continue to fill out. I’m about a month late, so it may not have as much effect as it would’ve otherwise. Under the best of circumstances this practice helps fatten up the sprouts.

    The artichokes provide the only bittersweet harmony in my veggie patch lullaby. Out of a dozen plants, only six survived the swampy May and June early season. Plants that thrive in the sandy, dry, relatively temperate Monterey Peninsula struggle in clay soil flooded by rain after rain after rain. And of the six plants that survived, they developed slowly and bore no chokes. Three of the plants are at prime July first condition today! I’ve accepted that we won’t be eating any homegrown artichokes this year, but I’m not giving up hope for next year.

    The Imperial Star artichokes remain healthy, but they failed to produce even a single choke this summer.
    The Imperial Star artichokes remain healthy, but they failed to produce even a single choke this summer.

    Given the decent artichoke crop me managed two summers ago and the outstanding bumper crop last year, I’m going to continue growing artichokes at Rosslyn. In fact, I’m going to undertake a bold experiment.

    Ever since discovering that Imperial Star Artichokes can be grown successfully in our abbreviated norther season, I’ve been tempted to defy conventional wisdom.

    Although artichokes in more forgiving climes can be grown as perennials, severe North Country winters and a short season require transplanting healthy, established juvenile artichokes and accepting that the crop will not endure from season to season.

    It's time to start harvesting the leeks, perfect timing for outside grilling and soup.
    It’s time to start harvesting the leeks, perfect timing for outside grilling and soup.

    Annual artichokes are certainly better than no artichokes, but given our fruitless season I’ve decided to see if I can’t successfully overwinter our plants.

    I plan to cut them back almost to their base once they’ve actually stopped growing and become dormant. And then, before we get any deep frosts or snow, I’ll bury the plants in straw, leaves and organic mulch to try and insulate them over the winter.

    Nothing lost in trying!

    November greens (and purples) that continue to nourish us.
    November greens (and purples) that continue to nourish us.

    And I’ve overlooked the still productive raised bed, still flush with greens. Although some of the spinach has browned off, and most of the kale is gone (some pest really did a number on it late this fall), the beets, beet “purples”, Swiss chard and lettuce continue to feed us.

    So you see, the veggie patch lullaby is a happy, hopeful tune!

    How do you feel when it’s time to put your veggie patch to bed for the winter?

  • La Vie en Rose

    La Vie en Rose: Rosslyn boathouse during late February sunset (Credit: Kristen Eden)
    La Vie en Rose: Rosslyn boathouse during a late February sunset. (Credit: Kristen Eden)

    Je vois la vie en rose
    I see life through rose-colored glasses — Édith Piaf

    Édith Piaf’s “La Vie En Rose” – usually translated as “Life Through Rose-Colored Glasses” – inevitably, joyfully came to mind when this sexy photograph was shared with me on Facebook by an Essex friend and neighbor, Janice Koenig. It turns out the photographer, Kristen Eden, is also an Essex neighbor and, if Facebook counts, a new friend.

    Kristen’s photographs (see gallery below for a few more) capture warmth and tenderness, unusual characteristics for mid-winter images of icy Lake Champlain. Even on sunny days our North Country light in February tends to by harsh and severe, so these unlikely photos were a welcome sight. They lit up Facebook prompting “likes” and comments from many local and distant fans. My downsized, watermarked versions of her photos don’t fairly do the originals justice, but you can enjoy the image above, “Ducks swimmin’ in pink lemonade” (in larger, better format) on Kristen Eden Fine Art and Photography.

    Sensuous & Harsh: La Vie En Rose

    Piaf, France’s “Little Sparrow”, similarly blends the sensuous and the harsh. Perhaps it’s the scratchy old recordings. Or her crushed velvet sound. Or her swooping transitions and confident refrains. Who knows? A siren’s mystery. Listen and decide for yourself.

    Piaf’s song wove itself inextricably into my already Pollyanna-prone psyche during my college years, and despite the lyrics’s unlikely resonance, they remain evocative and hypnotic half a lifetime later. Piaf’s sensuous sound makes me nostalgic for the years I lived in Paris even now as I type these words about photographs that remind me how much I am enchanted with Essex, a world away from The City of Light.

    Thanks for your Rose-colored Glasses

    Thanks, Kristen, for your stunning photographs. And thanks, Janice, for bringing them to my attention.