Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
We told you last week that we’d decided it was time to “rehome” our John Deere “truckling”, and yesterday the handoff was made to Essex neighbors, Heather and Lee Maxey. Congratulations, and thank you!
The truckling (actually a John Deere AMT 626) has been a reliable workhorse for decades, literally. This 5-wheel predecessor to today’s John Deere Gators originally belonged to my parents who used it at their Rock Harbor home since the 1990s. They handed it down to us more than 10 years ago, and we put it to use during Rosslyn’s top-to-bottom building rehabilitations. Subsequently as we used the John Deere truckling as we created the gardens, orchard, and vineyard, and later as we restored the old meadows and began maintaining trails through the woods.
But wait… there’s more! We invested in a new 6-wheel Gator somewhere in there, and the John Deere truckling was eventually shifted up to ADK Oasis where it continued to perform reliably hauling landscaping materials, shuttling grass clippings and leaves, and basically fulfilling the perennial need for a utility vehicle capable of running across lawns without adversely impacting the lawns.
So, as far as we’re concerned, the truckling has earned her keep many times over! But treated well and serviced regularly, we figured it might still be of service to someone else. Given the age of the vehicle, however, we felt uncomfortable selling it. Wasn’t there somebody who’d like to swap us an intriguing narrative about how they proposed to use the truckling in lieu of payment?
Sure enough, we were approached with some great stories. Although we were torn between several including a musical retirement at the Meadowmount School of Music, Lee and Heather were so enthusiastic and brimming with captivating ideas. More on their plans in a moment.
Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey, Heading Home (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Rehoming the Truckling
Their vision for the truckling centered around gentle duty in service to their popular herd of alpacas. If you haven’t visited with these whimsical creatures near crest of Bull Run, I strongly suggest you stop by for a visit. As Heather eloquently explained, there’s a need for an alpaca “honey wagon”! Apparently they load up the alpaca “beans”, her euphemism, I believe, and deliver them to neighbors in want of fertilizer and mulch. A perfect task for the truckling, supporting the smiling alpacas who in turn make most everyone else smile as well. But the Maxeys are in the middle of a significant building project, and they had no difficulty dreaming up all manner of chores to keep the old utility vehicle feeling relevant even in its dotage.
But the most exciting by far? It turns out that Lee and Heather are going to be Mr. and Mrs. Santa Claus for Christmas in Essex. The truckling, they surmised, would make the perfect “sleigh” to traffic the the Clauses from the ferry and through Essex. How could we possibly resist? We couldn’t. And so the decision was made.
John Deere Truckling Rehomed and Renamed! (Photo: Lee Maxey)
Renaming the Truckling
Now for now particularly good reason our family and friends have always referred to this 5-wheeled wonder as the truckling. Not clever. Not original. But it has stuck across the years. Until now.
The Maxeys, have decided that it’s time for a new name. Betty. Or Bette. I’m not 100% certain which it’ll be, but the logic ostensibly is a capricious nod to our last name. But is it Bette Davis (actress) or Betty Davis (singer)? I’ll clarify soon, but in either case flattery just may have been the icing on the cake. A new name and a new home.
Musical Mashup
What better way to sum it up than a video remix of Lee and Heather’s adoption of Bette/Betty…
Teeter-Tottering: Should I stay or should I go? (Source: Geo Davis)
To borrow a turn of phrase from Shaye Elliott, “I’m teeter tottering between” being fully present in Essex and departing for Santa Fe, betwixt summer’s curtain call and autumn’s debut, between and betwixt scores of less-than-precisely delineated transitions.
Should I stay or should I go now? — The Clash
Fair warning: I’m mixing metaphors today. Like fusion cooking and creative cocktail concocting, I’m hoping that purists will forgive my transgression(s) and sample the experiment with an open mind.
I’ve already shared a couple of quick riffs on the push-and-pull of seasonality, wrapping up the re-decking project, re-starting the boathouse gangway project, launching the exciting new icehouse project, and recovering from August 30 storm damage. I need to flesh out all of those transitions in fuller detail soon, but today instead I’ll touch on our autumn changeover from the Adirondack Coast to the high desert southwest with an unanticipated delay for COVID and a perhaps peculiarly drawn out rumination on teeter-tottering. Fair warning!
Teeter-Tottering: Should I stay or should I go? (Source: Geo Davis)
Teasing Out Teeter-Tottering Metaphor
I’m struck, I might add, by the strength of this teeter-tottering metaphor. The teeter-totter, a seesaw, with someone sitting on the other end, riding the teeter-totter seat down to the ground, close enough to toe-touch. When fortunate, bringing the soles of both feet to rest on the ground and bending knees to squat and push off, sending teeter-totter up into the air as a friend on the other end returns to the earth.
I recollect that there’s another challenge (and distinct pleasure) to teeter-tottering as well. Sure, it’s exciting to tip one another up and down, but balancing is also appealing, both friends suspended in mid air, neither touching the ground, neither rising, neither falling. Equilibrium. Balance. A quivering stasis that requires focus and collaboration between both friends.
Obviously the principal thrill of balancing on a teeter totter is that it’s incredibly difficult. And just as obvious is the indisputable fact that teeter-totter equilibrium is it best temporary. Eventually one or the other person will come back down to the earth, planting their feet on the ground, while the other will lift skyward. It’s impossible to postpone indefinitely.
So if it’s obvious, why am I explaining it this way? I think that the allure of the teeter-tottering metaphor — at least for me, right now — is that it so perfectly conjoins otherwise dissimilar sentiments.
I’m thrilled, exhilarated, and yet anxious about the abundance of thresholds upon which we are currently balancing. Certainly there’s a very real exuberance in the moments where we shed some gravity and float high. There are butterflies in the belly (and whirlwinds of worry in the belfry) when lofty ambitions come plunging down. But like that teeter-tottering youth of my memory, I often find that we’re endeavoring to maintain some fragile equilibrium, knowing full well that we can’t maintain it forever, and yet hoping to stabilize the teeter-totter for a moment, just another moment,… Or maybe a day? A week? This is not to say that we’re in denial about the inevitability of some pretty major transitions, but it speaks honestly about our hesitance in at least some cases.
You’ve possibly noticed a parade of posts recently addressing the transitions and transformations that we’re navigating. I apologize for too often talking obliquely, speaking around the issue rather than addressing it directly. Sometimes that’s part of the process, I’m afraid. Sometimes the prologue serves the needs of the storyteller even more than the reader.
In short, please bear with me. I recognize that not everybody enjoys teeter-tottering, so thank you for your patience, and in many cases, thank you for your generosity and advice and coaching.
Know then that this curiously kaleidoscopic time and space we’re teeter-tottering through (I warned you about mixing my metaphors!) will yield to more candid sharing when the time is right, with updates aplenty including:
The exceedingly handsome garapa deck rebuild that was completed a few weeks ago.
The boathouse gangway rebuild v2.0 which we’ll be relaunching soon (or at least as soon as the new team can demo the dangerously misguided fiasco left behind when TFG finally admitted defeat and quit.)
With those considerably more interesting transformations in the offing soon, I’ll conclude this post with a slightly more personal teeter-tottering anecdote.
Susan and I had prepared to depart Essex for Santa Fe considerably earlier this year than we habitually do. We’d invited some friends together for a last hurrah, and Susan had prepared impeccably as she does to enjoy a comfortable journey cross-country with our dog. And, given that our friend, Hroth Ottosen, would be mirroring our north-by-southwest migration as he returns from Santa Fe to Essex to take up residence at Rosslyn while we’re away (more on this including an introduction soon) our early departure was intended to allow comfortable breathing room between our departure and his arrival. But, as they say, the best laid plans…
After exercising caution and safely eluding Covid for 2-1/2 years, Susan fell ill about a week prior to our departure. And within just under a week I followed suit. Although my recovery was fortunately quick, hers was not. In fact we were both startled with how much more pronounced her symptoms and how much longer the duration of her illness. If Covid affectively debilitated me for two days, it knocked her out for more than two weeks.
Needless to say, our pre-departure fête and our travel plans were scuttled. Throw in Labor Day travel challenges, and we ended up postponing our departure even further. Perhaps this was the universe’s way of reminding us not to become overconfident in our planning, not to assume that we can orchestrate our way out of unpredictability, setbacks, and topsy-turvy crisis management that these times of transition typically engender. All this to say, the teeter totter tumbled!
Icehouse v2.0: Looking east toward future loft inside the icehouse while fine tuning remodel proposal for the Town of Essex Planning Board. (Source: Geo Davis)
At long last it’s time to move forward with Rosslyn’s icehouse v2.0 which I’ve been alluding to for a couple of months (including in the July 2 Instagram photo of icehouse interior above.) If this is your first sneak peek inside the icehouse, rest assured that the project is still percolating. When the sweet siren songs of reimagination, rehabilitation, and repurposing merge into a mellifluous melody, I’ve learned to slow down and listen…
In the weeks and months ahead I’ll share with you the reason(s) and vision for this project as well as the cast of characters and the plan. I’m hoping to take you inside this rehabilitation project, joining the team who will transform a 19th century utility building (purpose built to store ice and preserve food) into a 21st century utility building (repurposed as a flexible studio, office, meeting, and entertaining space.) Although the icehouse won’t become the “game room” we once imagined, it will share some overlaps with that early vision.
But I’m getting ahead of myself. Let’s start in our early days at Rosslyn.
Icehouse v1.0
In 2006/7 during rehabilitation of our home, we began renovating Rosslyn’s circa 1889 icehouse (existing outbuilding located north of existing carriage barn). Top priority was structural stabilization including remediating a collapsing roof and “corn cribbing” of north and south walls by removing most windows to improve structural integrity and simplify reframing and drawing walls back together with cables. The existing stone foundation was repaired and repointed, and roof was rebuilt from within with rough hewn hemlock beams that we had milled locally complement the existing structure. A standing seam steel roof was installed to match our home and carriage barn, and the existing mechanicals were upgraded in conjunction with the other buildings. New electrical supply and subpanel, water supply, propane gas, and septic system were installed and inspected in 2006/7.
And then, the icehouse rehab stalled. Indefinitely.
We mothballed the project, deferring the next phase indefinitely until circumstances warranted moving forward. (Source: Demolition Dedux)
Until recently, circumstances distracted us, and time whistled past without returning to the question of whether or not (and how and when and why) to tackle the conversion of this unique outbuilding.
But the spring of 2020, coronavirus quarantining at Rosslyn, Susan and I spent many afternoons and evenings next to a fire pit just northwest of the icehouse enjoying the sunsets. We’d never really done this before. And it got us thinking…
Reimagination, Repurposing, Rehabilitation
I recount this curious time in other posts, but for now I’ll simply acknowledge that the early weeks and months of the pandemic allowed for a long overdue pause, an extended period of introspection. We were profoundly grateful to be able to quarantine at Rosslyn. It was truly an oasis in many respects. And this time of sequestration and slowing down and introspection opened up lots of interesting conversations.
Long story short, we began to reimagine the icehouse rehab as a slightly different sort of conversion than we’d originally imagined. For one thing, the western views in the afternoon through early evening were spectacular and distinct from one we associate with the property. We became slightly obsessed. And so we pondered ideas for some outside living space, a fire pit, a deck, maybe even a hot tub?
What if we repurposed this outbuilding to meet several of the needs not present in our home? What if the work-from-home model meant embracing the notion of a highly effective dedicated workspace but that could also double as an outdoor, socially distanced socializing hub?
As we courted the siren song our imaginations ran wild. And two years later we’re finally ready to focus the vision and get started.
Icehouse v2.0
We are at last planning to complete the rehabilitation of the ice house, adapting it from a workshop and storage space to a studio office and workshop. Minimalist open plan but integrating a full bath including shower (and possibly a hot tub on exterior deck) creates a threefold benefit: on-site restroom for workspace; a post-swim and soak restroom for visiting friends; and a restroom and wash area for gardening, etc.
Paramount in our plan is repurposing and recycling. We’re hoping to utilize sixteen years of architectural salvage, building materials, and on-property milled lumber to complete this project. I’ll try to document some of the materials we’ll be repurposing soon. And there will be some modern, non-repurposed accommodations as well including modern, energy efficient wood windows and doors that match the historic windows of the barn, foam insulation, and high efficiency mechanicals.
And because the eastern façade of this historic icehouse is visible from the road/sidewalk, we propose minimal alteration to this public viewshed. I’ll be posting some images soon.
Last Friday, I teased a recap of our recent deck rebuild — or more specifically an overview of installing garapa decking on the newly rebuilt deck — but then I proceeded to dive headlong into a 2008-9 decking-with-garapa flashback. Sometimes it’s helpful to discover the backstory before plunging into the present.
Here was my swaggering introduction (before getting lost down the rabbit hole…)
But you needn’t wait any longer. Patience is overrated, and the new deck “eye candy” is ready. Pictures aplenty coming your way shortly, but first a little backward glance to Rosslyn’s first garapa deck waaayyy back in 2008-2009. You see, this newly completed deck is a redo of the same deck and decking completed during our epic rehabilitation project a decade and a half ago.
So, without further ado, let’s look at the first iteration of Rosslyn’s garapa deck. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
It was nostalgic to look backward at the original deck from inception through evolution through… failure. (Actually I didn’t include any of the documentation of the deck substructure’s gradual but premature decay. But I do have some unsettling photos squirreled away to review sometime. Maybe as a way to celebrate the longevity of the replacement deck.)
Today, instead of looking backward, it’s time to showcase this A+ rebuild, the handsome material we used, and the remarkable team that transformed a frustrating stutter-start (and a heady pipe dream) into a magnificent outdoor living space to make memories with family and friends.
Installing Garapa Decking… Again!
Before I plunge into the process (and handsome results!) of installing garapa decking on Rosslyn’s newly rebuilt deck during summer 2022, I’ll fill you in on the evolution of this project.
As you may already know, at the end of 2008 and beginning of 2009 Rosslyn’s deck looked picture perfect. In fact, it looked almost indistinguishable from the finished photos I’ll be sharing shortly in this post. That’s, of course, because the new deck is simply the old deck built again. Built better, because the substructure will not deteriorate prematurely like its TimberSIL predecessor.
The plan and timeline for Rosslyn’s replacement deck came into focus over a year ago.
During the summer of 2021 we allowed a carpenter to sweet talk us into entrusting him with… [three separate, historically sensitive, vitally important carpentry projects.] Although we initially informed him that our confidence was wavering given his subpar communication and organizational record during the planning and scheduling phase, we ignored our misgivings (and the warnings of many) and allowed him to persuade us that we had nothing to worry about. He planned to start by tackling the boathouse gangway and waterfront stairway in September/October, and then he’d move on to the house deck. We’d be so impressed, he assured us, that we’d then hire him to rehabilitate the icehouse. If only he built as well as he talked! (Source: Rosslyn Redux)
I’ve already covered in brief but painful details the calamitous unraveling of this 2021 plan, so I’ll sidestep the misery and fast-track to the good part. While our carpenter fiasco of the previous year might be summed up as a run-of-the-mill “crash and burn” story, this summer’s refreshing sequel was a quintessential “phoenix rising” story of mythic proportions.
And while there are so many “main characters” in this sequel that I can’t really credit one single protagonist — this was a truly inspiring group that coalesced into a collaborative, skilled, productive, respectful, creative, communicative team — it was Hroth Ottosen who served as the unmistakable catalyst. If I’m able, I’m hoping to eventually persuade Hroth to share his very personal decision to roadtrip east from Santa Fe, New Mexico to spearhead Rosslyn’s deck rebuild after the 2022 catastrophic wildfire season that ravaged the southwest. For now, I’ll say simply that Hroth reminds us that it is possible to emerge from calamitous circumstances braver, wiser, stronger, and freer than we were beforehand. I see an uncanny parallel between BOTH Rosslyn’s current rehab projects and the aforementioned 2021 fiasco AND Hroth’s decision to sojourn with us awhile on the Adirondack Coast. Like I’ve already suggested, a phoenix rising from the ashes!
Garapa v2.0 (aka Re-decking)
Time to dive in! I tried to post relatively current updates on the team’s progress during July, August, and September, so rather than getting in the way of the story, I’m embedding our Instagram posts that chronicle our step-by-step journey installing garapa decking (and sealing the boards to preserve and enhance their already breathtaking natural beauty.) I’ll add a few thoughts along the way, but for the most part a quick scroll through the images and videos will tell a purer and more visually satisfying story than my words.
The decision to deck with garapa back in 2008 rested on several considerations:
quality and endurance to outperform more conventional wood decking given the variable demands and extremes of our Adirondack Coast location, and
color and grain to complement late 18th, early 19th century architecture without appearing too contemporary and/or exotic.
We fell in love with garapa, and it handily ticked all three considerations.
We sourced the milled-to-order garapa decking lumber from Advantage Lumber (@advantagelumber), and I was impressed with both their customer service and sales support. Unfortunately delivery of the lumber as less impressive. Advantage Lumber arranged shipment of the substantial order via ABF Freight (@abftoday) and — as with the majority of the logistical partners with whom we’ve worked in the last few years — they overpromised and underdelivered. Despite clearly articulating our tight timeline and receiving assurances that we’d received our garapa decking in time, the new decking material arrived late due to “logistics delays”. Sound familiar?
Unloading Garapa Decking, July 2022 (Source: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Unloading Garapa Decking, July 2022 (Source: Susan Bacot-Davis)
On July 28, just shy of high noon on a scorchingly hot and humid day, we received our order. Perfect conditions for unloading. David wisely volunteered to inventory the lumber inside the shady truck, Tony tackled the task of unloading lengths of garapa from the truck and passing it down to the deck where Hroth and I hauled, sorted, and stacked the precious cargo.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CgpAXM5uFCN/
Unloaded, sorted, inventoried, and ready to become Rosslyn’s new deck floor, this garapa looks absolutely sumptuous after a midsummer rain. We were all a little gobsmacked with the sheer beauty of this lumber. Even an aesthetically astute bat (or three) dropped in to celebrate the honey hued hardwood.
https://www.instagram.com/p/ChnfAqnvaju/
It took a couple of days for the team to find their groove, eager to balance forward motion with perfect execution to ensure that their workmanship matched the beauty of the material. Soon they were installing garapa decking from sunup to sundown, performing a mesmerizing choreography as efficient and beguiling as a ballet. (I better not let them read this or they may refuse to let me document their work ever again!)
https://www.instagram.com/reel/ChARdWSgBlX/
Although progress on this sort of deck is steady and incremental, my eagerness to complete the project sometimes overtook my patience. Why aren’t we further along yet?!?! But each day, reviewing the team’s accomplishments since morning afforded us all a daily opportunity to romance the stunningly beautiful deck taking shape. End-of-day reflection (revitalized with frosty libations) frequently ran to artistic and poetic reverie more than carpentry tropes and jokes. I kid you not, but again, don’t let the guys know I said that.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/ChXGgegAGR-/
Although that post above specifically called out Eric Crowningshield, this project brought out the best in everyone. If my photo / video recording were as nimble as I’d have liked, I would have posted a similar tribute to every single member of the team. I’ve already mentioned Hroth Ottosen above. You’ll be hearing plenty more about him in the weeks and months ahead because he’s such a vital asset. And, Pam Murphy, our friend and property / project manager extraordinaire, not only keeps our diverse projects sorted and successful, she is the most capable “air traffic controller” ever, juggling everyone and everything without letting anything tumble out of orbit.
These are a few of the most visible stars on this allstar team, but there are so many other: Susan’s cousin, David McCabe; our friend, Ed Conlin; electrician Brandon Dumas; jack-of-all-trades, Tony Foster; and Eric’s ever-reliable and hardworking team (Matt, Justin, Andrew, Jarrett, and Jason) Not only is the end product from this collaboration an understated masterpiece fit for the handsome home, but every day cooperation with this team was a pleasure and a privilege. We are profoundly grateful. (In fact, this is precisely why they’ve all teamed up for the icehouse rehabilitation project!)
https://www.instagram.com/p/CiaG1LjOStE/
There are the predictable successes with a project like this, but there are also serendipitous triumphs. One among many is captured in that delicate image above.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CiprpA5uLug/
Once the last board is scribed and screw head is plugged, it’s time to oil the garapa decking. It’s at this point that everything comes together, and the results are far more glorious than the sum of the parts.
https://www.instagram.com/reel/CipsbUSgn9f/
As each garapa board is tenderly treated with oil, the drama and depth of the wood comes alive. Such beauty!
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Ci0XQr3A3Rn/
There remain a few last details to conclude the project — a bit of landscaping here, a few painted trim details there — but the results are breathtaking. And this is never more evident than in the later afternoon when that mesmerizingly lush sunlight bathes the wood in amber and gold.
https://www.instagram.com/p/CjOEWAAOjQ4/
And this, my friends, is the sun soaked conclusion of our summer (and autumn) 2022 Rosslyn re-decking adventure. Installing garapa decking isn’t an overnight victory lap, but the painstaking efforts will pamper us for years. Susan, Carley, and I extend our most sincere thanks to everyone who helped transform this dream into reality.
Icehouse Haiku or Sketchy Brainstorm?!?! A once pondered (and discarded) concept for lifting the icehouse… (Source: Geo Davis)
Recent months have been busy with rebuilding and advancing plans for further rebuilding. Soon I’ll share an update on our summer 2022 deck rebuild, and I promise that it’ll be worth the wait. Until then, I’ll tease out another potential rebuild on the horizon. But first, by way of introduction, I offer you an icehouse haiku.
Icehouse Haiku
Once sanctuary
for winter ice in summer,
so insulated.
Sometimes a morsel is all we need. And for some of you this may be plenty. A glimpse into my recent ruminations on Rosslyn’s historic icehouse.
If a poem is way of repurposing an experience, a subject, an idea, then drifting into recent evolution of our icehouse vision via an icehouse haiku seems appropriate. We are, after all, returning to the many times delayed and postponed notion of completing the icehouse rehabilitation initiated back in 2006 and 2007. By the end of this week we may — fingers crossed — be able to offer an exciting update. For now a few brief sketches will suffice, minimalist asides underpinning the idea of repurposing this circa 1889 utility building in a way that is relevant and useful to us today.
Intrinsic to the Icehouse Haiku
Underlying the ultra compact words of the icehouse haiku above (and the composited photo and sketch above) are sixteen years of brainstorming and iterating (and repeatedly postponing) plans for rehabilitating the icehouse.
Rehabilitation fails with no sustainable plan for use. — Stef Noble (Source: Demolition Dedux)
Our earliest plans for revitalizing Rosslyn rested on this idea that use, usability, contemporary relevance is fundamental to successful historic rehabilitation. Sensitive, responsible, historically and architecturally accurate, yes. But most important, the building must have a functional reason to endure.
More on this anon, but for now a few glimpses backward in time…
My earliest inkling about icehouse-ness hearkens back about four and a half decades to Homeport, the Wadhams, New York property that my parents restored when I was young. Although already removed prior to my parents’ purchase of Homeport in the mid/late 1970s, I grew up aware that there had been an icehouse just beyond the “sunporch”, my parents’ summer bedroom. The idea fascinated me. A house full of ice. My youthful imagination conjured up all sorts of fanciful possibilities that history fated to exist in my imagination only.
Before tripping further down memory lane, let’s get onto an equal footing with respect to icehouses in general. What exactly were they?
An ice house, or icehouse, is a building used to store ice throughout the year, commonly used prior to the invention of the refrigerator…
During the winter, ice and snow would be cut from lakes or rivers, taken into the ice house, and packed with insulation (often straw or sawdust). It would remain frozen for many months, often until the following winter, and could be used as a source of ice during the summer months. The main application of the ice was the storage of foods, but it could also be used simply to cool drinks… (Source: Wikipedia)
Ingenious!
Ever since my Homeport days I’ve been intrigued by life in the era of icehouses. And so inheriting one when we purchased Rosslyn was a particular pleasure. All the more so when I came across Sally Lesh’s personal recollection of the icehouse at Rosslyn (aka Hyde Gate).
Directly across the road, ice was cut every winter from the frozen lake surface. All these years later, I can picture the huge square hole full of dark water where the big blocks of ice had been cut by men using long saws. Each block was then hauled out. I have no idea how the block of ice was carried up the steep rocky bank and across the road, up the sloping driveway past the house, past the big barn that houses the carriage and the car, and finally to the icehouse, where it was buried in sawdust. We had iceboxes then, no refrigerators. The ice was broken into square chunks that fit neatly into the tin-lined top compartment of the icebox. I do clearly recall picking tiny bits of sawdust out of my summertime lemonade throughout my childhood. — Sally Lesh, All My Houses: a Memoir (Source: Sally Lesh & the story of Hyde Gate | Rosslyn Redux)
Sawdust in lemonade seems a small price to pay for frosty beverages and safely preserved perishables long before refrigeration came to Essex. I imagine that somewhere, some day, I’ll come across some historic photographs documenting this very practice Lesh brings to life, but until then I’ll dwell in my imagination.
As a final sketch before wrapping up this icehouse haiku rumination, let’s revisit these words from an older post.
The inspector opined that the boathouse and icehouse were probably unrecoverable. Use them while we could or demolish and replace them. There were other eleventh hour surprises that jeopardized the sale too, but demolition as a recommendation was unnerving. Rosslyn’s boathouse was precisely what I’d fallen for. Tear it down? No chance. And the icehouse promised to be the perfect office/studio/playhouse. Think desk, easel, pool table, bar! (Source: Demolition: Rosslyn Dedux)
Okay, it’s long past the point that I should have abbreviated this runaway reflection. Go figure, I started with a microscopic poem, but then the words just came tumbling out. Sorry!
“If you lose your purpose, it’s like you’re broken.” ~ Hugo
Everything has a purpose, even machines… They do what they are meant to do… Maybe that’s why a broken machine always makes me so sad, they can’t do what they are meant to do… Maybe it’s the same with people. If you lose your purpose… it’s like you’re broken. ~ Brian Selznick (spoken by Hugo Cabret in The Invention of Hugo Cabret)
In the summer of 2006 my bride and I set out to repair a broken house. Rosslyn, a stately but crumbling old home, boathouse, ice house and carriage barn needed us. We could save them. We should save them. We would reawaken a property that had lost its purpose. We would pump our passion, our time, and our limited loot into repairing the broken property.
If You Lose Your Purpose
But over time we came to understand that we were at least as broken as Rosslyn. We had both lost our purpose, and we were both foundering. Leaping into an adventure as feckless and risky as moving our lives and work from New York City to the Adirondacks while renovating four buildings many decades past their “best if used by” dates nearly destroyed us. Emotionally. Economically. Physically. And yet, little by little we discovered that Rosslyn could (and eventually would) repair us. The broken, purposeless wreck we set out to rebuild ultimately rebuilt us.
Two years ago I holed up in a remote abbey in the New Mexico desert to sort through my recollections and artifacts from the years of renovation. A month alone reading and revising. One night I watched Hugo for a refreshing distraction. A children’s movie. Sort of. Sort of not. I was enchanted. Something happened to me that had never taken place before (nor since). As the movie ended, I restarted it and watched the entire film through a second time. Double header. Better the second time than the first. It resonated profoundly with the book I was trying to write, a memoir about the years spent rehab’ing (aka “historic rehabilitating“) Rosslyn.
It’s Like You’re Broken
Hugo is one of the best films i’ve seen in a long time. Be forewarned though, this is not your typical fantasy movie… The movie reveals the darkest times and how fear can be the driving force in everything we do… Also the fragile nature of human beings can be at any age and the limitations we have are only the ones that we put on ourselves. ~ Melissa Arditti (Windsor Square)
I’m not sure that Hugo is one of the best films I’ve seen, but it was the perfect narrative at the perfect time. And I will watch it again. Soon. I need to, in part, because I’m still grappling with this idea of a what it means to lose your purpose. I’m still working on repairing the broken machine. Rosslyn. And within. I’m reawakening purpose. Thank you for assisting me along the journey.
If you haven’t seen Hugo yet, here’s a teaser, the passage that still appeals to me two years after first experiencing it.
Purpose Lost & Purpose Found
As a storyteller and writer I’m conscious of the temptation to “find” purpose where it isn’t, and to ascribe purpose where and how it fits best. How I’d like it to be. Not always how it is. Or how it should be.
Over the past decade I’ve been trying to unlearn the habit. More curiosity. Fewer assumptions. And if/when I alter the original purpose, when I repurpose, I’m striving to realize the difference. To own it.
Rosslyn Redux, marriage, small town life, the joys and woes of midlife, and the rapidly evolving world of publishing have served as my tutors. I’m confident that I’m beginning to make headway. Two final quotations from Hugo offer the optimistic note I’m hoping to achieve in my closing, and they both offer a glimpse into the view from where I am lately.
I like to imagine that the world is one big machine. You know, machines never have any extra parts. They have the exact number and type of parts they need. So I figure if the entire world is a big machine, I have to be here for some reason. And that means you have to be here for some reason, too. ~ Brian Selznick, The Invention of Hugo Cabret
In that moment, the machinery of the world lined up. Somewhere a clock struck midnight, and Hugo’s future seemed to fall perfectly into place. ~ Brian Selznick, The Invention of Hugo Cabret
The machinery is still aligning, but I’m confident that soon it will all fall into place.
Word to the wise? If you lose your purpose, hold off on plunging into the sort of adventure we undertook. First watch Hugo. And then… plunge!
To remain nimble amidst unpredictability and unforeseen challenges, optimistic astride setbacks and failures, innovative and creative under duress. And to navigate gratefully and passionately at all times.
From carpentry fiasco (boathouse gangway) to carpentry triumph (house deck), from summer to autumn (bittersweet seasonality), from hale and hardy to COVID crash dummy, from perennially postponed icehouse rehab to 100% timely reboot, from Adirondacks to southwest,… We are awash in transitions!
Columns in previous owner’s workshop, present day dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s time for another architectural salvage update, this time focusing on the Greek Revival columns that we salvaged from Rosslyn’s future dining room back in 2006 in the early days or our renovation project. Let’s dive right in with that photograph above, but first a quick semantic note. For the sake of this post (and others) let’s assume that “adaptive reuse” and “repurposing” are sufficiently equivalent to be used interchangeably. There are those who restrict use of the former for buildings and use the latter for both buildings and materials, design elements, etc. I use the two interchangeably, not limiting “adaptive reuse” to buildings.
Some of you may recognize the photograph at the top of this post as the workshop of Rosslyn’s previous owner, George McNulty. Others of you know this same space — originally a pair of parlors and later dining rooms when the property was operated as the Sherwood Inn — as Susan and my principal dining room. (To avoid confusion, the qualifier is intended to distinguish the space from our front parlor which we use as a smaller dining room and the morning room or north porch which we use as our informal dining room.)
Deconstruction & Salvage
Although similar to the photograph above, this next set of visual benchmarks were made about half a year later. In the first photo the well equipped wood shop was still ready for creative carpentry and historic preservation, active pursuits of the previous owner for decades. But in the photograph below renovations are well underway and this room is virtually empty and deconstructed to the studs and brick.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
All of the trim in this room had already been meticulously documented by McNulty, but we salvaged everything that we could for reuse and to template from in order to bring this room back to its previous condition. It’s worth noting that we originally had hoped to be able to minimize repairs to this room, but it turned out to be a sifting sand trap. Each element we tackled revealed two underlying problems and so on. The floor was failing, the ceiling was failing, the fireplace was failing, the columns and beam which separated the space into two rooms was not original, and there was a window — bricked up and concealed within a closet — that was begging to be opened. Needless to say this room, our future dining room, was one of many that mushroomed in deconstruction and rehabilitation. The scope of work dilated day after day after day for weeks and then months and eventually years. But, I’m getting ahead of myself.
To refocus on the columns, lets start by taking a good look at the southern column (above) and the northern column (below) and then let’s get a little boost from the good folks at Britannica on the anatomy of a Greek column.
Soon-to-be repurposed column during September 2006 deconstruction in Rosslyn’s future dining room (Photo: Geo Davis)
The simplicity of these columns, only minimally embellished, lead me to consider them of the Doric order. And the following overview serves us well with one subtle revision. Both in their original location and in their future icehouse location, these repurposed columns will rest on the floor. In other words, the floor serves as the stylobate.
There are many separate elements that make up a complete column and entablature. At the bottom of the column is the stylobate; this is a continuous flat pavement on which a row of columns is supported. Rising out of the stylobate is the plinth, a square or circular block that is the lowest part of the base. Atop the plinth and forming the remainder of the base are one or more circular moldings that have varying profiles; these may include a torus (a convex molding that is semicircular in profile), a scotia (with a concave profile), and one or more fillets, or narrow bands.
The shaft, which rests upon the base, is a long, narrow, vertical cylinder that in some orders is articulated with fluting (vertical grooves). The shaft may also taper inward slightly so that it is wider at the bottom than at the top.
Atop the shaft is the capital, which serves to concentrate the weight of the entablature on the shaft and also acts as an aesthetic transition between those two elements. In its simplest form (the Doric), the capital consists (in ascending order) of three parts; the necking, which is a continuation of the shaft but which is set off from it visually by one or more narrow grooves; the echinus, a circular block that bulges outward at its uppermost portion in order to better support the abacus; and the abacus itself, a square block that directly supports the entablature above and transmits its weight to the rest of the column below. (Source: Britannica)
You’ll be quizzed on this later. Maybe. Or not.
Repurposed Columns
Now armed with some targeted vocabulary we can fast forward to about a week ago when Pam, Hroth, and Tony extracted the columns from the hay loft of the carriage barn where they’ve been stored for about sixteen years. I won’t pretend they’re tidy, but they’re intact, well preserved and ready for repurposing as a whimsical-but-structural design element supporting the new icehouse loft.
Hroth surveying soon-to-be repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photo above we’re looking over Hroth’s shoulder at the soon-to-be repurposed columns. Yes. Big. Eight feet from the bottom of the plinth to the top of the capital. Hroth’s a tall fellow, but these stately columns tower above him. I’m bringing this up to allow for critics to suggest that these columns just *might* be out of scale with the diminutive icehouse. It’s a reasonable suggestion. But we’re not undertaking an historic preservation. Instead we’re rehabilitating a utility space, a once-upon-a-time storage barn for ice, into a contemporary mixed-use office, studio, lifestyle space. Relevance is driving the program and adaptive reuse with a whimsical nod to the past is guiding the design choices. There are some incongruities baked into the vision for sure, but we’re gambling that they’ll prove charming rather than unsettling. Fingers crossed!
Hroth transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
After a decade and a half of dusty hibernation in the carriage barn’s hayloft, these artifacts of once again seeing the light of day. Tony (upstairs, inside) and Hroth (outside) tenderly liberated the columns from the veritable warehouse of architectural salvage — windows, doors, moldings, trims, shutters, fireplace surrounds, mantlepieces, and various miscellanea — to begin rehabilitating them.
Hroth and Tony transporting repurposed columns from carriage barn hayloft to icehouse. (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It’s worth noting that I played with the perspective on the photo above in order to best view the column emerging from the carriage barn. Hoth’s face and figure suffered slightly Silly Putty disfigurement in the process. Please forgive me, Hroth!
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The capitals are not connected to the columns, perhaps because installation is more convenient. Or perhaps as a casualty of our 2006 deconstruction (or sixteen years of getting bumped into while in storage?) But the elements are intact and ready for cleanup and reassembly. I’ll update the repurposed column progress as they move forward on their journey toward installation.
Capital from column that will be reused in the icehouse rehab (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Although it’s still a little premature to photograph the columns inside the icehouse, and since we have some long overdue cleaning and refinishing to undertake before these towering twins are ready to preside over their new environment, it’s helpful to imagine where we’re headed. To that end I’ll conclude with the most recent interior elevations that include the columns. There are inevitably tweaks that will emerge in the weeks and even months ahead and we massage the icehouse rehab into shape, but these drawings might sate your curiosity for a while.
Icehouse interior elevations including repurposed columns, as of November 11, 2022 (Credit: Tiho Dimitrov)
In closing, thank you Hroth and Tony for recovering the repurposed columns with such care. Thank you, Pam, for months of dimension documentation and photographs to ensure that Tiho was able to integrate these into the plan. Thank you, Tiho, for your perennial willingness to accommodate our sometimes challenging guidance and requests. And thank you, Rosslyn, for providing and supporting and nurturing our vision(s). Your gifts are without end.
Adaptive reuse has become an increasingly important principle for me in recent years. And one of the most ambitious (yet most critical) objectives for the icehouse rehabilitation project is repurposing surplus building materials and existing architectural salvage from previous projects; upcycling decking debris and other deconstruction byproducts from sixteen years of remodels and rehabs; and miscellaneous materials reclaimed from Rosslyn’s buildings, fields, and forests (such as a carriage barn full of cured ash, elm, and other lumber that was harvested, milled, and dried on-site.)
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. Hroth has planed these boards down to 5/8” and the lumber is beginning to look really good. Maybe 1/2” will be perfect?
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cj7Igsig6Uo/
In addition to milling off the grooved edges (originally used for securing hidden fasteners to deck substructure) and planing the boards down, the next step will be choosing a suitable joint between boards. I’ll share updates as we continue to explore upcycling the old garapa decking.
What the Heck is Upcycling?
Nowadays we throw around words like upcycling, recycling, repurposing, adaptive reuse, etc. without stopping to ensure that we all understand what these words even mean. Upcycle That, a (@upcyclethat), a website launched in 2012 to showcase upcycling ideas and inspiration, offers this clear and concise way to think of upcycling.
Upcycling is taking something that’s considered waste and repurposing it. The upcycled item often becomes more functional or beautiful than what it previously was. That’s why it’s called upcycling, because the value of the item is increased! (Source: Upcycle That)
Junk, debris, byproducts, and leftovers reimagined and transformed into valuable new items. That’s upcycling.
If this sounds a little bit like recycling, let’s turn to the Upcycle That team again for help clarifying the difference between upcycling and recycling.
Recycling and Upcycling have different processes. In the recycling process, items are broken down to be reused. Paper is shredded and turned into pulp, plastic is shredded and melted into pellets, glass is smashed and melted to be recast. This downcycling is an essential step in the recycling process, but it does degrade the value of the materials.
Upcycling is a creative process where waste is looked at as a resource. Materials are reused in a clever new way, giving them a second life and function. Think of a pallet coffee table. Upcycling transforms the pallet into a lovely piece of furniture. (Source: Upcycle That)
I would add to the downside of degrading the source materials another frequent cost of recycling: energy consumption. Not only can the act of recycling gradually diminish the quality of the paper, glass, plastic, etc., but the process(es) by which the down cycling takes place almost always consumes energy. By sidestepping the down cycle-step in recycling, upcycling reduces the need for energy consumption.
Energy Use to Upcycle Garapa
As a quick followup to this last question of energy consumption during the downcycling vs. upcycling processes, I should note that transforming our old garapa decking into a finish material for the icehouse bathhouse is not without its own energy inputs. As you can see in the video above, these boards are being passed through a wood planer and they’ve already had their sides trimmed on a table saw. So, electricity has been an inevitable input in order to transform what on another project might have been considered demolition debris into what on our icehouse project will become beautiful bathroom paneling.
Do you need a utility vehicle for your property? We’re hoping to “re-home” our John Deere AMT 626 John Deere “truckling”. Are you a good match? While our AMT 626 has been a reliable workhorse since, well, since forever (1990-ish, maybe?!?!) it’s old enough that we’re not feeling like a sale is the right option. We’re less interested in trading it for your hard earned loot and more interested in finding the best next chapter for this handsome beast of burden. Who can offer the most idyllic retirement (gentle work, lots of love, and maybe a nice nickname?) for this decades’ old John Deere?
Re-Homing John Deere AMT 626 (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
This 5-wheel legend was a hand-me-down from me parents about a decade ago, and we have pampered it with annual servicing and plenty of TLC. Yes, it’s vintage. And yes, it runs. Recently serviced by United Ag & Turf (August 2022) and, yes, it’s ready for a new property to tend.
Re-Homing?
Why are we re-homing the AMT 626 “truckling” instead of selling it? It’s old. And while it served my parents well, and us well, it’s tough to estimate how much life this iconic green utility vehicle still has in it. Hopefully plenty. But I’d feel uncomfortably extracting payment for a piece of equipment that might need to exit sooner than desired. That said, we have pampered this piece of equipment, and we’ll happily pass on the John Deere servicing department contact information with permission to share any information the new owner would like. I suspect it would be pretty unlikely that a better preserved AMT 626 is out there!
But there’s another aspect to this. So much of our good fortune as Rosslyn’s stewards has been inherited from generations before us. Responsible ownership, conscientious preservation, and magnanimous spirits account for the life we’ve enjoyed on this property. We endeavor to follow in that tradition. As it strikes me, our 5-wheel truckling is better inherited by someone who genuinely needs it, not just someone who can pay for it. And if the “truckling” provides reliable service well into the future, then we’ll be grateful. And if it turns out that it has earned its just repose and her reliable service is curtailed by circumstance, then nobody is worse off.
https://www.instagram.com/p/ClE8gHjPv96/
Much in the same vein as our July 12, 2022 post “re-homing” of the Husqvarna EZ4824 zero turn mower we’re primarily keen to find a good match. The mower found a perfect home. Will the “truckling”?
https://www.instagram.com/p/Cf6Z4kROSKY/
Recent Servicing
Perhaps you remember our midsummer post about servicing the Gators?
John Deere Gator: Three Generations (Source: Geo Davis)
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. (John Deere Gator: Three Generations)
Here’s the moment they loaded up the AMT 626 “truckling” and headed off for servicing.
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.
Icehouse on ice. Yes, this tidy clutch of words and ideas appeals immensely to my poetic perspective on living, but there’s more to it than that. Like so many of the posts I’m revisiting lately, the earliest iteration of this originally somewhat melancholic reflection is nearly a decade old. Like many blog drafts it became an “orphan”, put aside for a day when my time was more abundant or my melancholy was less crowding or my thoughts were better gathered or…
You get the point. As with my poems, I frequently launch into a draft with the passion and clarity of purpose propelling me. And then, something stalls. And the initial foray falters. Or, at the very least, the seed for what I envision writing is cast aside indefinitely.
Often enough I circle back, allowing the persistent relevance of the idea, the recurring urgency to undergird a certain confidence that I might be on to something. That I need to revisit the seed, germinate it, nurture it.
This is the case with my work on preservation by neglect. The idea is baked into my love for and efforts toward rehabilitating old buildings, and it’s in many respects more compelling to me than the finished accomplishments of a preservation project. Not sure I’m ready to put my finger on exactly why yet, but it’s akin to my penchant for wabi-sabi. In my perspective there is profound beauty in the imperceptibly slow entropic forces revealed in aging, even failing, man-made artifacts. Sorry, that’s a major mouthful and earful, and it’s a bit of a mind bender. That’s why I’m not yet ready to flesh this idea out. I’m still trying to sort it for myself. Hopefully soon I’ll be able to better articulate what’s percolating in my noggin.
I’m wandering afield, so I’ll lap back to my earlier intentions.
Ice House, Northeast Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
Icehouse Rehab Revisited
Icehouse on ice. Again.
Rehabilitating (and repurposing) Rosslyn’s historic icehouse is an ongoing desire. Has been since the outset. But advancing this desire to rehabilitate the icehouse has been chilling on ice almost as long.
Going all the way back, since the summer of 2006 when we purchased this property, we’ve wanted to transform this obsolete utility building into a relevant-for-the-21st-century utility building. But, alas, we’ve perennially and indefinitely postponed the project for a variety of reasons. Actually that’s not 100% true. We ensured the building’s preservation back in 2006-6 by tackling the most pressing challenges.
We stabilized the failing structure, replaced the failed roof, repaired the crumbling stone foundation and upgraded the mechanicals. But then we mothballed the project, deferring the next phase indefinitely until circumstances warranted moving forward. For several years we’ve used the ice house as a storage and maintenance annex for the carriage barn, but recently we’ve begun to address a sustainable plan for use. I hope to address this in more depth over the course of the next year. But for now, I’ll just say that we understand that simply stabilizing the building is not enough. Successful rehab demands a sustainable plan for use. And we’re working on it! (Source: Demolition Dedux )
But once the icehouse’s structural integrity was restored, we shifted further rehabilitation off the short-term priority list. It could wait. It would have to wait. Completing the house rehab (and the boathouse rehab) had proven challenging enough. Hemorrhaging time and money, our scope of work had been repeatedly curtailed, narrowing to the two most essential buildings.
Ice House, East Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
Icehouse On Ice, Hurrah!
Let’s step back a moment, before moving onto the exciting update (in the next section as well as several other recent posts) about the looong neglected icehouse rehabilitation coming to an end at last.
This handsome little outbuilding has endured for six score and more — probably about 130 years or so, but how could I resist the chance to borrow that linguistic artifact when polishing an aged subject?!?! — rugged winters and sultry summers. And looking around it’s pretty evident that most icehouses haven’t endured. They’ve largely vanished from historic view-sheds throughout the country. But this well built, classically proportioned addition to Rosslyn’s timeless property remains with us, ready for a new chapter.
Although various reasons likely underpin the icehouse’s endurance, and the attentions of previous owners are no doubt high on this list, I would suggest that one of the reasons we’re now fortunate to undertake a purposeful re-imagination of this building is that it’s been preserved for more than a century, in large part, by neglect. First and foremost it wasn’t demolished to make way for other needs (such as the clay tennis court that adjoins its west and northwest flank). And it wasn’t adapted into a chicken coop or conjoined with the carriage barn or… It served a limited functional purpose for at least two previous owners that I’m aware of (one as part of honey-making accommodations and another as a woodworking shop), but the building wasn’t irretrievably bastardized to fulfill its temporary needs. And this, as mentioned elsewhere, so forgive my repetition, is the best argument for preservation by neglect.
Ice House, Northwest Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
Icehouse On Ice No More
After sixteen years, we’re finally moving forward. And not just baby steps this time. Building on the original infrastructure improvements from 2006-7 and drawing upon a decade and a half of perspective gained from actually living on this benevolent property, we’re now ready to rejigger our original vision, tempering the lofty, grounding the capricious, and infusing new relevance into this landmark utility space.
Ice House, North Side (Source: Jason McNulty)
I will be sharing new plans as we move forward, showing here what we presented to the Town of Essex Planning Board last month. There are still some adjustments to be made following our public hearing and project approval last week. I’ll delve into those details separately as well. But in the mean time I’ll like to honor the beginning of the thaw, the un-icing of this too long postponed project. And it struck me as a poignant opportunity to showcase images that were gifted to us by Jason McNulty. The photographs taken by him on November 8, 2004 and were sent to us on July 6, 2010 following his first return visit back to Rosslyn, the house where he grew up. There is a personal appeal for me, glimpsing the property well before we owned it. And the gratitude we felt upon receiving the images a dozen years ago is rekindled now as we initiate our preliminary stage of rehabilitation.
Eric Crowningshield Framing Icehouse Floor (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
What. A. Week. It’s a bit of a three ring circus at Rosslyn lately. So many projects happening concurrently. And so many invested, industrious, upbeat, solution-centric colleagues helping us repurpose Rosslyn’s circa 1889 icehouse rehabilitation into the ultimate 21st century flex-work-lifestyle hub. And as of today the first floor is framed!
Icehouse First Floor Framed (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Vision + Ambition + Skills
With such a fortunate gathering of capable tradesmen (and woman) progress this week has reached a new level. A shared vision. An eagerness to advance the mission. An absence of ego. And a shared enthusiasm for the project. If only ever week can run this smoothly!
Although the collaboration of many ensured that the icehouse first floor was framed this week, especial thanks are due Pam, Hroth, Eric, Peter, Andrew, Ben, and Supi for your various contributions. You are truly inspirational. Thank you.
Video Mashup of Floor Framing
If you prefer a quick zip through, then this video mashup is for you.
Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Truckling’s New Owners, Lee and Heather Maxey, Heading Home (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
John Deere Truckling Rehomed and Renamed! (Photo: Lee Maxey)
