Welcome to spring! It’s currently 43° at Rosslyn, on target to hit 46° shortly. Sun is out. Snow is melting. Bulbs are bursting. So many remarkable signs and suggestions that the vernal equinox may indeed have marked the transition from winter to spring (daffodils and daylilies perking up, an auspicious sunset cloud formation, a handsome Barred Owl encounter,…)
Let’s start out with our just-passed solar equinox and then work our way toward the Barred Owl (Strix varia) and some celestial special effects from Susan’s end-of-day walk with Denise.
Vernal Equinox: Rosslyn Sundown (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Vernal Equinox-ish
In 2023, the official first day of spring is Monday, March 20. This date marks the “spring equinox” in the Northern Hemisphere… at 5:24 P.M. EDT. This… is the astronomical beginning of the spring season in the Northern Hemisphere… (Source: The Old Farmer’s Almanac)
That was yesterday. In fact, this post was intended to be published yesterday. On time. Relevant. But, sometimes searching for poetry preempts timely updates. Sorry.
Despite the fact that today’s post is slightly out of sync with the astronomical calendar, I couldn’t resist the chance to subtly revise yesterday’s draft and share it anyway. There was simply too much resonance. Yes, I’m biased. But after yesterday’s candid peak into Rosslyn’s artifact-packed carriage barn (and into my mental morass where architectural salvage, historic rehabilitation, poetic introspection, and memoiresque storytelling commingle) it felt, well, almost logical. Bear with me? I find that spring’s arrival rarely follows a predictable schedule. Each year unique. And, in spite of the heathen thrill that comes with romancing celestial and meteorological rituals, it would appear that the vernal equinox is merely a symbolic approximation of springtime.
An equinox occurs twice a year, around 20 March and 22 September. The word itself has several related definitions. The oldest meaning is the day when daytime and night are of approximately equal duration. (Wikipedia)
I excerpted the tidy part, eliminating the inevitable diatribe about day and night not really being the same length. A debate for another blogger. I love rituals, even when they’re easily scoffed. Here’s a flip riff by Phil Plait (@BadAstronomer) if you’d like a quick scoff before we romance the vernal equinox.
Today is the vernal equinox, what a lot of folks think of as the first day of spring (though given the forecast, people on the U.S. East Coast can be forgiven if they’re rolling their eyes at that thought, assuming their eyeballs aren’t frozen to their eyelids). (Slate)
The omnipresent smell of mud hints at spring’s earth entrance, and that’s good enough for me. No. More. Snow. Please!
Tony and I were returning from the forest beyond Library Brook where we’d been blazing the next meander in Rosslyn’s ongoing trail building initiative. The brook was swollen and running wild. The trees were a-chatter with avian neighbors and squirrels riffing raucous against the riparian chorus. It felt like a page out of Dylan Thomas. And then Tony spied the owl.
“Do you see it?” he hoarse-whispered, pointing up into the trees.
I didn’t. He guided my gaze. But I couldn’t identify the big blob on a branch. Wrong sunglasses.
“It’s an owl,” he said
We walked closer. I fumbled with my phone, launch the camera app, zoomed in as far as I could, snapped a couple of images. We kept walking. The owl swooped away, an immense span of plumage, arcing through trees and branches powerfully, gracefully without brushing a twig.
Disinclined by temperament to observe overt omens and symbolism in the world around me, I’m nonetheless receptive to the “singing underneath”. Sometimes life rhymes. I try to exercise humility and wonder in these moments. I endeavor to hear and observe and sometimes to record the poetry that presents itself. I’ll leave conclusions to others. For me, for now, questions are plenty.
Vernal Equinox: Day Lilies Reawakening (Photo: Geo Davis)
Daylilies
With snow, still covering much of the ground, bulbs are bursting up, unwilling or unable to wait. The earthy array above are day lilies, among the thousands of green shoots reaching skyward below the stonewall that divides our lower lawn from upper lawn.
Perhaps overly precocious sprouts. I’d venture a guess that some more freezing nights, possibly even some more snow might challenge these daylilies. And yet, as in all previous years, they will flourish, foliage thickening, stout stems reaching somewhere between knee and waist by Independence Day when they’ll explode in joyful orange blooms. They will. And yet I can’t help wondering if they’re premature?
Vernal Equinox: Cloud Theatre I (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Sundown Skies
As if conjuring orange blooms is contagious, the day’s spring preview weather concluded with a dash of colorful drama and cloud theatre extraordinaire.
Taken by Susan while winding down the day with Denise and Carley, ambling Blockhouse Road, likely lost in conversation. Phone photography sure has come a long way!
Vernal Equinox: Cloud Theatre II (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
So beguiling and mysterious is that second cloud theatre image that I’m sharing a tighter, second perspective.
Vernal Equinox: Cloud Theatre III (Photo: Susan Bacot-Davis)
Welcome back, springtime. What wonders do you have in store?
A few days ago I came across a provocative Facebook post that artistNick Bantock had shared on December 30, 2022. The date’s not particularly notable, but the author is. Familiarity with Bantock’s work adds context and texture to the explanation about his creative process, specifically how he moves from found ephemera to finished artwork.
I keep an in-between tank, a collection of part-constructed smaller pieces that are in a state of flux or transition. Resonating bits that touch or brush-up against one another, in a pre-morphing box (or in this case, a studio drawer)… Ideas are rarely plucked out of the ether, in my experience they come from creating an environment where happy accidents and surreal collisions can best occur. (Source: Nick Bantock, Facebook, December 30, 2022)
I’d be wise to leave his words to stand alone. Unsullied. Undistorted. Unaccompanied. A beacon.
And I’ll try.
But trying isn’t enough. Temptation is building, like a wave rising higher, gaining momentum, wisps of foam falling from the curled lip.
And so I succumb. Slightly.
Creative Collisions
The image above, an illustration of Rosslyn’s boathouse by Essex resident, Paul Flinn, was documented by Tony Foster. Between upcycling garapa decking boards into distinctive wall paneling for Rosslyn’s icehouse rehab he popped into Essex Town Hall, spied this handsome architectural sketch, snapped a photo, and pinged it through the ether to me.
Collaborating with creative characters; emphasizing the merits and possibilities of adaptive reuse while repurposing collected curios, salvage, and surplus; and generally endeavoring to create an environment where “happy accidents and surreal collisions can best occur” just might be working. Thank you, Paul. Thank you, Tony.
Happy Accidents
Fusion. Collage. Combinatorial creativity… It’s been immensely satisfying to help catalyze the morphing. And it seems that everyday their are more happy accidents. They’re not all tidy or comfortable. Sometimes there friction and frustration. Sometime fission in place of fusion. But we’re in a flow state that, like an undertow and a strong surface current, are pulling us forward. Where? Too soon to say. But creative collisions and happy accidents suggest we’re trending in the right direction!
So many photos and field notes and punch lists, marked up plans, pruned and grafted scopes of work. This is the ephemera of construction and the detritus of rehabilitation. A midden of sketches and diagrams, souvenirs of collaborative problem solving, artifacts of alterations and adjustments,… this is the tangled and layered chorus we seek to distill and remix into an oasis. Some days the process almost approaches autopilot. Others it approach mes a multi vehicle pileup.
Field Notes (Credit: Geo Davis)
Although I’m as goal oriented as the next guy, as eager to complete the project as I was the day I started, I’m inordinately fascinated with the in-between. I romance the journey. I thrill in the process. The interstices lure me as much as the origin and destination.
And so it is with this icehouse rehab. The journey. The myriad micro narratives tucked into each chapter.
Currently we’re wobbling a little as we adapt to two members of our team succumbing to COVID, as we ramp up testing and masking (and wondering if anyone else is destined to become sick.) The icehouse is such a small, enclosed work environment, so it’s easy to worry that the contagion may have embraced others still testing negative. But angst breeds angst, not relief or good fortune. So I try, we all try to focus on matters we *can* control. Tony finishes beech flooring in the loft — sanding and cleaning and sealing and repeating — investing his energy and passion in perfecting the small but sensational perch where soon I will be able to install myself at my black walnut desk to write and revise and read. Supi and Justin began trimming in the coving, working the poplar lumber that was grown, harvested, milled, seasoned, dimensioned, and finished at Rosslyn. Hyperlocal carpentry. Leaning into tangible tasks, transforming sketches, plans, field notes, and punch lists into results is an analgesic of sorts.
Tomorrow we will all test again. If fortune spares us, we will all be able to stay on task, charting a path forward, advancing through timelines and upon objectives. The wind will subside, the temperature will rise, the snow will melt, and the mud will gradually replace the ice. Perhaps the opossum will return to eat the cracked corn intended for the mallards, the daffodils will recover from the blizzard and begin to push their green fuses higher, and the high tunnel will warm to 103° again (almost tripling the temperature outside). If time permits, Susan and I may cross country ski through Rosslyn’s fields and forests after finalizing the order for new deck furniture. My brave bride might even take a polar plunge into 35° Lake Champlain. By choice. For pleasure. I will almost definitely not take a polar plunge into Lake Champlain.
Field notes will accrue, punch lists will get checked off, and another chapter will be sculpted out of bits of wood, stories, laughter, memories made, and incremental headway. I am anticipating a good day!
What wintery wonders shall I share with you today? How about a celebration (and showcase) of upcycled Christmas gifts dreamed into existence by three allstar members of our icehouse rehab team?
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
[pullquote]These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal.[/pullquote]
I talk and I type, but these three creative characters have reimagined and reinvented deconstruction debris into functional art and decor. They transformed a piece of old garapa decking and a handful of icehouse artifacts (uncovered during laborious hand excavation for the new foundation) into a handsome coatrack, and they transformed a gnarled piece of rusty steel back into a museum-worthy ice hook that turns the clock back 100+ years.
Let’s start with the photograph at the top of this post which Pam accompanied with the following note of explanation.
Hroth, Tony and I wanted to wish you both a very Merry Christmas. We came up with the idea to make a coat rack out of repurposed items. The wood is old garapa. I found the spikes in the icehouse during inventory and the hook was also discovered in the icehouse during excavation for the concrete floor/footers. Hroth custom made a handle for the ice hook. We also wanted to add a new hummingbird feeder to the garden outside of the breakfast area. Merry Christmas! — Pamuela Murphy
Perfection! Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts from Pam, Hroth, and Tony (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I was curious how Hroth had fabricated the garapa handle for the ice hook out of old decking boards. It’s so round/cylindrical that it looks as if he’d used a lathe.
Two pieces of garapa laminated together. Started out about a 16 inch because it was easier to run through the table saw. I made an octagon out of it on the table saw, then used the big belt sander… I roughed it up a little bit. Didn’t want it to look too perfect. Then Pam suggested that we take a propane torch to it. Made it look older.
It was a fun project. I still need to seal the wood and the metal. Penetrating sealer works well on metal. It’s sharp… We were thinking you might want to put some corks on the ends… or garapa balls. That was the first thing I thought of. We can certainly do that. — Ottosen Hroth
Carving tiny garapa orbs to install on the spikes strikes me as the perfect way to complete the coat rack so that jackets can be hung without getting spikes. It’ll be a difficult-but-intriguing challenge! There must be some technique for creating a small wooden sphere out of a block of wood. Hhhmmm…
I can’t imagine more perfect Christmas gifts. Their collaboration has rendered layers of Rosslyn history — from the late 1800s and early 1900s when the icehouse was in use, through 2008 when we built the deck that yielded this garapa, to 2022 when the old deck was deconstructed and the icehouse rehabilitation was initiated — into timeless beauty that will adorn the icehouse when it is introduced/revealed next summer. These upcycled Christmas gifts are a product and symbol of renewal. Our gratitude is exceeded only by Hroth’s, Pam’s, and Tony’s collaborative accomplishment.
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gifts (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Upcycled Christmas Gift 2022: antique ice hook with handmade handle (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The flip-through gallery above offers a few more details, and all three (as the two featured photographs above) are documented inside the icehouse with mid-construction backdrops: old studs with new spray foam insulation and new subfloor ready for interior framing and hardwood flooring. It’s tempting to offer tidier or even fancier backdrops, but authenticity prevails. Future decor created from old materials, documented midstream the icehouse’s transformation. Future, past, and present. Concurrent history and hope, a timeless present, an artistic representation of this liminal moment.
Backstory to Upcycled Christmas Gifts
Susan and my gratitude to Pam, Hroth, and Tony is (and obviously should be) the focus of today’s Rosslyn Redux installment, but I can’t conclude without first considering a slightly more amplified retrospective, the backstory, if you will, to the new coat rack and restored ice hook.
Let’s start by rewinding the timeline to 2008-9. Building the new deck and installing garapa decking was the proverbial caboose in a virtually endless train of construction that started in the summer of 2006. (Source: Garapa Decking 2008-2009)
In the photograph below, taken exactly fourteen years ago today, Warren Cross is putting the finishing touches on our first deck build. Although the perspective may be misleading given the still unbuilt garbage and recycling “shed” which today stands directly behind Warren, this is the northernmost extension of Rosslyn’s deck. The stone step (actually a repurposed hitching post chiseled from Chazy and Trenton limestone (aka “Essex stone”) and the rhododendron shrubs are not yet in place either.
But it you imagine the perspective as if you were standing just north of the morning room, looking back toward the carriage barn and icehouse, you’ll be oriented in no time. Oriented, yes, but nevertheless a bit disoriented too, I imagine, as you look upon a carpenter laboring in the snow to scribe and affix the garapa deck skirting / apron that will complete the installation that had began in the autumn with far more hospitable conditions.
Warren Cross completing garapa decking installation on December 22, 2008 (Photo: Geo Davis)
It’s worth noting that Warren, already in his mature years when he worked on Rosslyn with us, not only threw himself into difficult endeavors like the one above, he contributed decades’ of experience and an unsurpassed work ethic that inspired everyone with whom he worked in 2008 and 2009. But there’s an even more notable memory that describes Warren. He was a gentleman. And he was a gentle man. It was a privilege to witness Warren’s collegiality, and Rosslyn profited enduringly from his expertise. But it was his disposition, his consideration, and his kindness that make me nostalgic when I hear him mentioned or when I catch sight of him in photographs.
In terms of memories conjured by this repurposed garapa decking, I should include Hroth’s “research” this past autumn into how best we might reuse the lumber. There was such anticipation and excitement in the hours he experimented and explored. The image below perfectly illustrates the hidden gold just waiting to reemerge from the deconstructed decking material.
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Hroth’s discoveries underpin our plan to panel the interior of the new icehouse bathroom with what for a decade and a half withstood the Adirondack Coast elements season after season, and a rambunctious parade of footfalls, barbecues, dog paws, wetsuits, etc. It’s as if the new coat rack exudes the anticipation and optimism that many of us brought to the journey of upcycling the old decking into the new paneling.
And there is an aside that I’m unable to resist mentioning. Pam’s late husband, Bob Murphy, who worked as our property caretaker and became an admired and dearly respected friend, several times removed and reinstalled Rosslyn’s garapa decking over the years — monitoring, triaging, and compensating for the failing TimberSIL substructure. He knew that we would need to rebuild the entire deck soon, and yet he waged a relentless campaign to extend the useful life of the deck as long as possible. I think he’d be proud of the work accomplished by the team this summer, and he sure would have loved being part of that team! And the icehouse rehab would have thrilled him. Needless to say, these upcycled Christmas gifts from Pam and Hroth and Tony also exude Bob’s smile, familiar chuckle, and that mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
And what about that antique ice hook?
I mentioned above an antique ice hook, and the photograph below illustrates exactly what I was referring to. Disinterred by Tony while cleaning out and grading the dirt floor of the icehouse, this badly corroded artifact bears an uncanny resemblsnce to a common tool of yesteryear: the handheld hook. This implement was most often used for 1) grabbing and hauling ice blocks and/or 2) carrying hay bales. The location where this relic was discovered (as well as plenty of examples uncovered by quick research online) strongly suggest that this is an antique ice hook. (Source: Icehouse Rehab 01: The Ice Hook)
Isn’t a beauty? Well, rusty and corroded, but a beauty nonetheless, I think.
Antique Ice Hook, artifact unearthed during the icehouse rehabilitation, 2022 (Source: R.P. Murphy)
The prospect of restoring that ice hook crossed my mind at the time. But it struck me as a challenging proposition given the advanced state of decay. What a surreal transformation from rust-crusted phantom to display-ready relic! It too is marinated in memories, some recent and personal, others vague and distant. In the near rearview mirror are the painstaking efforts made by our team to secure the historic stone foundation beneath the icehouse while ensuring the structural integrity demanded by modern building codes. A labor of loves on the parts of so many. And today we can look back from the proud side of accomplishment. As for the more distant rearview, the antique mirror has succumbed to the influence of time, the glass crazed and hazy, the metallic silver chipped and flaking. And yet we can detect traces of laughter and gossip as blocks of ice were cut from the lake, hooked and hauled up to the icehouse, and stacked in tidy tiers for cooling and consumption during temperate times ahead.
A Glimmer of Springtime
In closing this runaway post, I would like to express my warmest gratitude for the upcycled Christmas gifts above, and for a new hummingbird feeder to welcome our exuberant avian friends back in the springtime. Taken together this medley of gifts excite in Susan and me the enthusiasm and optimism for the coming months of rehabilitation and mere months from now the opportunity to celebrate a project too long deferred and so often anticipated. With luck we’ll be rejoicing together in the newly completed icehouse by the time the hummingbirds return to Rosslyn.
Hummingbird Feeder 2022 Christmas Gift from Pam, Tony, and Hroth (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Thank you, Pam, Hroth, and Tony for these perfect presents. And thank you to everyone else I’ve mentioned above for enriching this home and our lives. I look forward to rekindling these memories when I hang my coat or my cap up each time I enter the icehouse. Merry Christmas to all!
I’m grateful when progress is captured and conveyed by members of the team. Pam is especially mindful to keep me abreast of daily changes. Today several helpful snapshots popped up from a Peter. Yesterday several helpful visual updates arrived from Tony Foster including several color captures of clapboard siding.
Hidden in one, an accidental portrait of the photographer. Transformed into black and white, adjusted for contrast, and the image above emerges from the clapboard. As well, a haiku, like the blink of an eye…
Parenthetical Portrait Documenting days fortuitous photograph documenting self
There are so many personal moments, so many parenthetical portraits inadvertently woven into Rosslyn’s narrative. Thank you, Tony, for another.
Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Today’s ferry ride from Charlotte to Essex — with snow falling on homecoming — tasted bittersweet if vaguely familiar. There was a wellspring of anticipation upon returning to inspect firsthand the team’s progress on the icehouse rehab, boathouse gangway, and some painting and tiling maintenance inside our home. There was also the poignant pique of a visit precipitated not by plan or passion but by infelicitous necessity.
The circumstances of my sojourn need no airing now since, perhaps, the “better part of valor is discretion“. So let’s skip the preamble and fast forward to the purely positive, right?
The cold, blustery ferry ride. The on-again, off-again frenzies of flurries pointillistic-pixelating the watery panorama, the approach to Essex, the desaturated vision of Rosslyn’s boathouse, the almost empty ferry queue, and the entirely empty roadway home.
Hhhmmm… Still shy of the purely positive, but hold tight. It’s coming.
Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles: January 16, 2014 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles
That blue-gray veiled waterfront snapshot dates from a post I shared on January 16, 2014. Just over nine years ago. And the title, “Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles“, remanifested in muddled facsimile (snow falling on hemlocks…) as I pulled in the driveway, observing the row of new evergreens planted along the norther edge of the front yard last spring/summer. (Which reminds me, I’ve still not posted those updates. Best get on with it before the one-year anniversary!)
The photo bears a close similarity with today, and this drift of words struck me as uncanny, sort of the mirrored reflection of my sentiments upon arriving today.
A parting glimpse of the boathouse blurred beyond veil of soggy snowflakes. Southwestern sirens are calling me away — by ferry, airplane and rental jalopy — so I leave the homestead in the able care of my bride and my dog for a few days. I’m willing deep drifts of powdery snow upon my return! (Source: Snow Falling on Cedar Shingles)
And this, fair reader, is where the positive uptick begins.
Another whirlwind visit, but rather than a whirlwind away in Santa Fe, it was to be a whirlwind in Essex. I took note of that. Just shy of a decade; a not-so-subtle shift. And then there was that twin allusion to the recently re-roofed icehouse, long since silver-foxed, and to David Guterson’s novel which had moved me then but has slowly vanished like the ferry’s wake resolving back into the surface of the lake. And that transformation from cedars, actually American arborvitae (known locally as “cedars” or “white cedars”) to hemlocks resonated as well.
Snow Falling on Hemlocks
Remembering the micropoem with macropotence. Superpowers.
There was no crow today to catalyze my “change of mood”. There were birds at the bird feeders beside the deck and beneath the leafless gingko tree. And several mallards retrieving fallen birdseed from the snow beneath the feeders. And the new row of hemlocks, similar to the old row of hemlocks on the other side of the property, looked green black beneath their frosted cloaks. But it wasn’t the songbirds, the mallards, or the hemlocks that “saved some part / Of a day I had rued.”
Snow Falling on Homecoming: January 25, 2023 (Photo: Geo Davis)
Snow Falling on the Icehouse
It was gathering with Tony and Peter and Steve inside the icehouse, taking in the awesome transformation from dirt floored shell of a utility building to micro mansion. A soaring one-room wonderland with a loft that thrills the 10-year old still overmuch alive in me. A barn loft with a handsome, homey stair rather than a ladder. A stout rebuild with an airy energy. An icehouse warm against the frosty afternoon despite the fact that no heat was running. A small scale sanctuary for writing and reading and creating the day away.
After meeting with the members of the team on hand I wandered, cold, and snow capping my hat and shoulders around and around, studying sightlines, editing hardscape and landscape plans, evolving furniture plans. After several months away, inspecting and and guiding and absorbing the progress from a digital distance that distorts the approximately 2,000 miles of reality jam-packed between me and the actual timbers and window openings and stair landing that have risen in the empty volume I left behind in September. Virtual reality is not reality. But walking and touching and rapping my knuckles and eyeballing alignments and sitting in a folding chair exactly where my desk chair will be several months from now,…
Snow Falling on Homecoming
This is the uptick. Where I felt tormented and conflicted in recent days, even as the ferry glided across the chilly lake, I now feel swollen with optimism. And underpinning the optimism is profound pride and gratitude for the work that has been completed and to the team who made this possible. Thank you Hroth, Pam, Tony, Eric, Matt, Brandon, Ben, Justin, Jarrett, Bob, Phil, Zack, David, Steve, Kevin, and everyone else I’m inadvertently overlooking. Your hard work and perseverance have begun to transform a vision into a building — an environment for creativity and productivity and entertainment — worthy of the handsome heritage that this historic property deserves. Susan and I are profoundly grateful to you all.
Matt and Supi Trim Icehouse, West Elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Today I’m pleased to post a quick update on the icehouse trim and clapboard installation. Temperate conditions are proving a bonus to this exciting progress. In the photo above Matt and Supi are wrapping up with the new trim so that the Benjamin Obdyke Slicker and clapboard can be installed.
The unique, vertically-channeled, three-dimensional matrix of Slicker® Classic provides a continuous space for drainage and drying, a thermal break and pressure equalization—eliminating the threat of trapped moisture. (Source: Slicker® Classic Rainscreen – Benjamin Obdyke)
This is a new product for us, and I’m optimistic that it will benefit the longevity of the cedar siding, which we ordered pre-primed and which we’re painting with two coats of paint (in the “paint shop” storage container) prior to installation.
Installing Trim, Slicker, and Temporary Window Grounds on Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the second photo you get a glimpse of the Slicker installation, an unfortunate color contribution rendering the temporarily green (ZIP System) building even more of an eyesore until the clapboard siding conceals it. Insect screen has been integrated into our installation to ensure that our insect neighbors look elsewhere for comfy accomodations.
Tony Installing Clapboard on Icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Clapboard (and slicker) in this next photo are progressing up the southern elevation. It’s a pretty dramatic transformation after looking at the glowing green icehouse, a notably incongruous focal point especially when surrounded by snow. We’re focusing on the southern and northern elevations first since they’ll allow for quick progress and fewer challenges.
Calvin, Tony, and Matt Install Clapboard on Icehouse, North Elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Once Calvin and Tony are super comfortable with the icehouse siding installation given this slightly tricky historic rehabilitation (angles, etc. are never quite true) they will tackle clapboard installation on the gable ends. With the hustle and experience of Tony and Calvin — plus oversight from Peter, Pam, and Eric — this next step will advance smoothly. And soon enough we’ll be able to celebrate a handsome exterior.
Calvin and Tony Install Clapboard on Icehouse, North Elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Eric, Matt, Jarrett, Supi and Peter will continue installing trim boards throughout the rest of the week/weekend (and temporary window “grounds” that will be replaced when the windows and doors arrive) so that the gable ends are ready for clapboard. Stay tuned for updates.
We survived 2022, friends, and in some fortunate cases, we even thrived. Cheers to surviving and thriving an occasionally challenging year!
New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
That means it’s time for a meandering year-ender…
Retrospective
I’d like to jumpstart my retrospective with a positive personal milestone.
Yesterday’s post, “New Year’s Eve”, was my 153rd post in a row, completing a 5-month streak of daily updates without missing a single day. It’s an impartial victory at this point with seven months still on the to-do side of the ledger, but it’s an accomplishment that underpins my optimism — indeed my confidence — that I can achieve my goal of 365 days of uninterrupted Rosslyn updates. (Wondering why one year is a significant benchmark? I’ll explain soon, I promise.) In broad strokes, this is beginning to feel like actual, believable progress toward resuscitating Rosslyn Redux, my multidisciplinary meditation on the *art of homing*. There are so many reasons why this is important to me, and I’ve poked at a bunch on them in recent months, but for now I hope you’ll just allow that this exploration, this inside-out creative experiment, this quasi crowdsourced inquiry, and the resulting nexus of artifacts and stories and visuals and poems and all of the esoteric marginalia that has accreted over the last seventeen years since Susan and I bought Rosslyn is meaningful. Heck, to be 100% candid, for me it’s not just meaningful; it’s vital.
But enough heavy handed me-centrism. I’m flirting dangerously close to catharsis, so it’s time to lighten up. Time to imbue the balance of this post with effervescent toast-worthy bullet points like champagne bubbles rising giddily. Time for levity.
But first, an aside. I’m trying to distill my year-ender into a positive, celebratory retrospective without slipping into a post-mortem review of some of the less celebratory events. For this reason I started with a little victory dance celebrating the Rosslyn Redux momentum. My re-immersion has been stimulating and it’s catalyzing all sorts of overdue transformation. For this I’m profoundly grateful. And I’m doubling down on my commitment to see this challenge through to its conclusion.
There’s actually much more to celebrate, but to avoid overburdening this retrospective I’ll streamline my recap by simply listing and linking some of the most notable highlights. That way you can follow the links to more specific updates if you’re interested. And I’ll add a coming-soon placeholder in lieu of a link for those I haven’t yet covered. I’m hoping that this will keep things as lean as possible, because isn’t that always on our New Year‘s resolutions?!?!
High on the happy news is the ongoing icehouse rehab. It’s been a looong fantasized vision (and an almost equally long unrealized vision) that involves rehabilitating the last of the four buildings we set out to revitalize back in 2006. And, in this case, there’s a self-serving motive fueling my push. I perennially pine for a writer’s “garret”, and at last the icehouse loft will become that sanctuary just far enough removed to allow me to spread my stacks and sink into my writing projects. I. Can’t. Wait.
In addition to the icehouse rehab (and a writer’s hideaway), another biggy on the decade plus wishlist came tyre. In late winter off 2022 we finally invested in a high tunnel for the Rosslyn vegetable garden. It’s been a fascinating learning curve, and in a couple of months we’ll be getting it ready for another growing season with the benefit of one year already under our belts. Totally unrelated to gardening but similarly braided into the lakeside lifestyle that draws us to this remarkable property, we’ve made a change in our aquatic locomotion. You may recall that Errant, our 31′ sloop was sold in the hopes of replacing it with a slightly larger sailboat. Well, that plan was impacted by the attenuated pandemic which distorted the boat market and compelled us to stall long enough to deep-think our wants/needs. In short, our plans evolved significantly. Last summer we took delivery of a new 28′ Chris Craft launch that has become our entertaining and “picnic boat”, allowing our ski/surf boat to serve it’s proper purpose despite serving as our “everything boat” for years. This decision was part of sailboat shift as well. In a pretty significant reorientation we’ve been exploring the possibility of our future sailing adventures happening along the California, initially, and then possibly further north and south. This spring we’ll again sail on the west coast and continue to experiment with different iterations for our future sailing plans.
But I’m drifting of course, so I’d better tack back toward Rosslyn.
New Year’s Day: Writer’s Garret (Photo: Hroth Ottosen)
Despite a disheartening debacle a year or so ago during our first foray into repairs on the Rosslyn’s boathouse gangway, the summer of 2022 marked a turning point. First came Patrick McAuliff‘s monumental transformation of Rosslyn’s front yard, replacing the overgrown, toppling arborvitae hedge with a handsome hemlock hedge. This quick summary oversimplifies (and leapfrogs a mysterious discovery), but I’ll unravel this yearn soon enough, I promise.
And then there was Rosslyn’s deck rebuild. This story had been evolving for a while (all the way back to TimberSIL). Most recently the same OPUD who cost us dearly on the boathouse gangway effectively hamstrung us on the deck as well. We retreated to Essex from Santa Fe earlier than normal to escape the worst forest fires in New Mexico history. With boathouse and deck in unsafe and unusable condition we began cancelling summer guests and plans…
But I’m getting ahead of myself. I’m sidestepping into the post-mortem that I intended to keep separate. Back to the deck rebuild which is complete, sturdy as can be, and stunningly beautiful (Hurrah, garapa decking!). And better yet, the ingredients for this rebuild included an outstanding team of friends and family and former collaborators on projects like the ADK Oasis Lakeside renovation who coalesced at the last minute and quickly became a skilled, collegial, productive, and fun loving team. In fact, much of this team is what has now evolved into the icehouse team.
After the boathouse gangway’s false start, there’s good news on Rosslyn’s waterfront as well. After the deeply discouraging setback inherited from the OPUD, after dismantling much of their work in order to rebuild correctly (the verdict of every single contractor who evaluated the miscarried first attempt), and after painstakingly recreating the original conditions instead of perpetuating the errors inherited from the OPUD, we’re back on track with a capable, experienced team. Fingers crossed that the boathouse gangway will be good as new next spring!
And there’s sooo much more. But I’ve waxed wordy, and my update has gotten too long. So I’ll abbreviate boldly with that list I promised earlier. Better late than never.
Trail building was advanced significantly with the hard work of Tony Foster, the guidance of John Davis, and the oversight of Pam Murphy. Rewilding progress was made, and thriving wildlife population documented. Tile and grout maintenance underway in bathrooms and kitchen by Clay Belzile. Stone wall reveal and landscaping at ADK Oasis Highlawn, and orchard restoration and stone wall rebuilding at ADK Oasis Lakeside. Too many contributors to these projects to list them all, but some notables were Bob Kaleita, Phil Valachovic, Patrick McAuliff, Roger King, Aaron Valachovic, and Tony Foster.
Other highlights include excellent gardening assistance on all three properties by our incredibly hardworking Amish neighbors, re-homing the zero-turn and the truckling, and one of our best apple and pear seasons in the orchard.
I’ll close with an admission that I didn’t succeed 100% in restricting my retrospective to the celebratory highlights. I drifted into post-mortem territory a couple of times. But, for now at least, I’ve edited out our unfortunate encounter with Covid, my father’s health upset, and Susan’s miraculous recovery from a life threatening tragedy this autumn. Today is a day to embrace success and optimism. And from the vantage point of January 1st even the most difficult challenges of the last year give me cause for celebrating success and renewing optimism.
Autumn Aeration: Tony Foster preparing Rosslyn’s lawns for a healthy, holistic 2023 growing season (Source: R.P. Murphy)
If perfection were possible, then Rosslyn’s lawns would be dethatched and perforated deep into the soil every spring and every autumn to ensure healthy circulation of water, nutrients, and air. Needless to say, most years (every year?!?!) perfection eludes us. But, in keeping with our holistic approach to gardening, orcharding, and landscaping, we’ve come to rely upon at least once yearly (autumn aeration is preferable when we only have time for once-a-year) to ensure robust lawns. Experience has shown us that a healthy diet of organic fertilizer, zero pesticide, and aeration nurtures not only an attractive ground cover, but a resilient heterogenous sod that rebounds quickly after drought, etc.
Before continuing, a quick thought on why I favor autumn aeration over spring aeration, all things being equal. September and especially October offer the perfect balance of still-warm soil, ensuring efficient coring (spring can be muddy, gumming up the aerator) and cool temperatures slowing the growth of the grass as it approaches winter dormancy. It’s always better to prune, trim, and aerate with a minimum of impact to the plants, so the closer to dormancy, the better.
Tony Foster aerating Rosslyn’s lawns to ensure root-deep circulation of water, nutrients, and air during the coming year (Source: R.P. Murphy)
The photographs in this post show the indispensable Tony Foster, jack of all trades (master of all that requires physical exertion), patiently aerating. Shortly he will follow up with organic fall fertilizer and grass over-seeding. These bedfellows will slumber together over the long winter months, and by springtime they’ll be ready to fortify the lawn for another season of dog and human activity.
Tony has also aerated the lawns for us up the lake at our ADK Oasis vacation rental properties, so his perspective is informed when he explains the benefits of autumn aeration.
“It’s very loving, very caring for life. It gives air to the roots. And water. We need these things to live.” — Tony Foster
If only I’d been so succinct! Tony is spot on. Autumn aeration (and spring aeration, when we have the luxury of time) provides to our heterogeneous mix of grasses what it needs to thrive.
It takes about 3 hours to aerate a lawn depending on acreage. It’s simple. It involves punching holes into the ground sending oxygen and water to the roots. There are professional size aerateors to cover more ground. Similar to mowing a lawn, Aerating lawns relieves packed soil and allows air water and essential nutrients to reach grass roots. Almost Any lawn can benefit from this process given the low water table in the area causing lawns and gardens to grow poorly.
In our area early fall and spring are some of the best times of year to do this. Aerating can be tough to do in dry soil, so you are best to aerate when the soil is damp or a few days after it rains.
The equipment can be rented if you would like to do your own lawn from several lawn and garden stores or you can hire someone proficient in the process.
You want to stay away from roots or stumps because it can damage the machine. — Tony Foster
Autumn Aeration: Tony Foster preparing lawns for a healthy 2023 growing season (Source: R.P. Murphy)
Autumn Aeration for a Tennis Court?
Back on May 8, 2012 I posted a thinly fictionalized account of aerating the lawn, and I focused on a specific area of Rosslyn’s yard. Adjacent to the icehouse now being rehabilitated, once upon a time there was a clay tennis court. This area has long since returned to grass, but it’s still recognizable despite the fact that we’ve removed almost all vestigial indications (actually one steel net post remains as a sort of memorial… for now.) The perfectly level lawn and the outline of a tennis court were until recently notably if you wandered uphill as Tony is doing in the photo above. We’ve used this area over the years as a perfect volleyball and croquet court.
In that post we decided not to aerate the old tennis court area of the lawn.
“You don’t want me to run that thing on the tennis court, do ya?” he asked, referring to the lawn aerator we had rented…
[…]
“Good question, Wes. I didn’t think about that.”
[…]
“I was just thinking about the clay, you know?”
“You’re probably right. You don’t want to get bogged down in clay. Let’s skip the tennis court and focus on whatever else remains around the carriage barn and back around the gardens.” (Source: Rifle & Eggs)
In recent years I’ve recently second guessed that decision to forgo aerating the tennis court. After all, the clay is especially compacted and it drains poorly. What better candidate for aeration? And so we now include it in the acres of green that Tony patiently nurtures with autumn aeration, fertilizing, and overseeing.
Hroth finishes ZIP System installation on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
As it turns out, the snow-blizzard-cum-bomb-cyclone that hepped up meteorologists and newscasters, snarled traffic across the country, and added a decidedly wintery twist to the Christmas holiday for many across the country impacted us two totally opposite ways, one good, the other bad. Ever the optimist, I’ll launch with the glorious news: the icehouse rehabilitation is now officially weathered in. The ZIP System installation is complete, ensuring a weatherproof envelop around the months of winter work ahead. Hurrah!
The icehouse‘s original 2-ply T&G sheathing is now 100% encases in structural insulated panels, and all of the seams are taped. The ZIP System insulated panels appear to have served us well, and just in the nick of time. Although the worst of the weather, fortunately spared us.
The winter storm became a bomb cyclone on Friday as it tore through some of the country’s major cities… Atlanta, Boston, Chicago and New York are seeing wind gusts higher than 45 to 55 miles an hour, among other hazardous conditions. Buffalo was the hardest hit Friday, with wind gusts of up to 70 mph, said Greg Carbin, a meteorologist with the National Weather Service. Buffalo was ground zero, and “that’s where true blizzard conditions have been seen,” he said. (Source: Bomb Cyclone Strikes Major Cities as Temperatures Plunge
Although winds and snows fortunately were not a problem at Rosslyn, we did receive a lot of rain, rain, rain. But just barely completed ZIP System installation ensured that the icehouse was spared the damaging effects of driving rain, flooding, etc. Phew.
The photo essay below offers glimpse behind the scenes — Hroth, Matt, Pam, and Tony hustling to complete the ZIP System installation before the storm and before everyone headed off for Christmas vacation. And this brings me to the not-so-good news…
Hroth was planning to spend Christmas with his 91 year old father in California. Flights? Check. Packed? Check. All systems go? Check. But after driving 2 hours to the Albany International Airport on Thursday morning, he learned that his flights (and basically all incoming Southwest flights to Pasadena) had been preemptively canceled. After exploring options, Hroth accepted that he would be unable to celebrate Christmas with his family. He climbed back into his car and drove two hours back to Rosslyn.
Susan and I deeply lament Hroth’s unfortunate luck, especially because we’re well aware that departing earlier and postponing completion of the ZIP System installation would likely have permitted him to fly to California earlier. And so, we realize that prioritizing the weatherproof sheathing over vacation travel positively effected the icehouse rehab and adversely effected Hroth and his family. I am sincerely sorry.
Hroth begins ZIP System installation on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
ZIP System Installation Photos
In the photo above Hroth is just starting out with ZIP System installation on the east facade. Note the newly installed flashing and custom copper drip edge that helps weatherproof the building’s cladding with accurate design integration templated from Rosslyn’s other historic buildings.
Fast forward to progress on the southside.
ZIP System installation on south elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
The north and south facades were completely installed approximately two weeks (see “Zipping up the Icehouse” for a gallery and overview), so tackling the south and east elevations at once brings the project to completion. In the photo below Tony’s own weatherproofing gives a hint to how cold it was as the team raced the weather toward the finish line.
Tony and Hroth installing ZIP System insulated panels on east and south elevations of icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Panel-by-panel, Hroth and Tony zipped up the south and east elevations, knitting together the corners to ensure that the trim be be perfectly aligned and plumb.
ZIP System installation on south and east elevations (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Below, Hroth (foreground) and Tony (torso-less legs on ladder behind Hroth) finish nailing and taping the south facade Zip panels.
Hroth and Tony installing ZIP System insulated panels on east and west elevations of icehouse (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
With the south side complete it was time to load up the nailgun and finish up the east side. In addition to the slightly blurry action shot of Hroth rebooting for the final push, the photo below offers an intriguing look both inside and outside the icehouse, inviting contemplation of how this same perspective might look early this summer.
Hroth 2/3 complete with ZIP System installation on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Once the panels are fully secured, it’s critical to seal all of the seams with ZIP tape to fully weatherproof the sheathing.
Tony tapes ZIP System panels on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Tony is ensuring that the sealing tape properly laps upper-over-lower seams to ensure proper water shedding both during the build and into the future once the building is redlaw in clapboard.
Tony tapes ZIP System panels on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Getting close, Tony!
Hroth fitting final ZIP System panels on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Hroth is scribing and installing the final triangular panels at the gable end on the east elevation. So close…
Hroth finishes ZIP System installation on east elevation (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
You can almost hear the Paslode nailer sinking those final nails through the paneling and into the icehouse’s street timbers.
Hroth puts the finishing touches on the ZIP System installation. All four elevations of icehouse are now weathered in! (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
I’ll wrap up this bittersweet installment with heartfelt thanks to the team for seeing this critical project through to completion to ensure that increasingly inclement weather (we are after winter solstice, after all) spares the icehouse AND similarly heartfelt regrets that Hroth has been stranded at Rosslyn, unable to join his family for the holiday.
That last photo above offers a fun glimpse from my future loft study, capturing Hroth as he concludes the ZIP System installation.
Zip-up Mashup
And, for good measure, a quick video commemorating this chapter.
You may recall that we’ve been upcycling garapa decking from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck that we salvaged and laid aside this past summer. Spanning half a year so far — from deconstructing and culling reusable material midsummer to multiple experiments determining optimal dimensions for adaptive reuse as bathroom paneling — we’re now scaling up production and the results are impressive.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Adaptive reuse of the old decking was an abstract ideal when I announced it at the outset. I’m not 100% certain whether the rest of the team was intrigued and looked forward to the challenge, or thought it was yet another frustrating folly. But Hroth was an especially good sport, planing board after board and trimming the edges to determine what would work best.
We have begun re-milling and re-planing garapa decking salvaged from Rosslyn’s summer 2022 deck rebuild. These sample boards are among the many weathered specimens carefully removed this spring and summer prior to rebuilding Rosslyn’s deck substructure and re-decking with new garapa. Hroth’s patient. Hroth’s patient exploratory experimentation is the first phase in our effort to adaptively reuse this character-rich material in the icehouse. Still preliminary, but exciting possibilities ahead!
Hroth is continuing to experiment with the garapa decking we salvaged from our summer 2022 deck rebuild. I’m hoping to repurpose this honey toned Brazilian hardwood as paneling in the icehouse bathroom. (Source: Upcycling Decking Debris)
Squeezed into the interstices of all of the other more pressing priorities in the daily scope of work, little by little Hroth determined that 3-7/8” x 5/8” were reasonable dimensions. We both really liked the look. In fact, Hroth, Tony, and Pam, like the look so much that they decided to upcycle some reclaimed garapa (plus a few artifacts from the icehouse excavation) into dashing decor!
Garapa upcycled from Rosslyn’s 2008-9 deck build and miscellaneous ice hauling artifacts reconciled and reborn as a new coat rack that will greet icehouse visitors upon entering the miniature foyer, and a restored antique ice hook that will be displayed prominently in the main room. Bravo, team. (Source: Upcycled Christmas Gifts)
And now Tony is beavering away industriously transforming the salvaged lumber. The photographs in this post offer a nice glimpse into Tony’s work upcycling garapa decking into pristine planks for paneling.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
In the photograph below, you see gradients of old gray surface wood that was exposed to the weather over a decade and a half. You can also see wood that is further along in the planing process, revealing beautiful garapa coloring and grain.
Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
It’s a slow and painstaking process that demands plenty of patience and focus, but the results are worth it. Transforming debris into beautiful finish paneling will prove rewarding, for sure. And in the photograph below, I suspect the Tony is even beginning to appreciate what magnificence he is bringing into existence.
Tony Upcycling Garapa Decking (Photo: R.P. Murphy)
Here’s a quick remix to enliven this static commentary…
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cm_ttD5haqx/
And here’s another, reflecting back to Hroth’s earlier expiratory “research”.
XXX
https://www.instagram.com/reel/Cj4hbRIAFlh/
And, just for the fun of it, here is the new deck build once it was complete.
It’s fair to call it midwinter, I think, and yet snow has been intermittent and sparse. But it’s plenty cold, so we’ll trust the calendar. The Northern Cardinal (Cardinalis cardinalis) photographed by one of our wildlife cameras tells a different story. It could be autumn. Or spring.
Northern Cardinal, Cardinalis cardinalis (Rosslyn wildlife camera)
The male Northern Cardinal is perhaps responsible for getting more people to open up a field guide than any other bird. They’re a perfect combination of familiarity, conspicuousness, and style: a shade of red you can’t take your eyes off. Even the brown females sport a sharp crest and warm red accents. Cardinals don’t migrate and they don’t molt into a dull plumage, so they’re still breathtaking in winter’s snowy backyards. In summer, their sweet whistles are one of the first sounds of the morning. (Source:Cornell Lab of Ornithology)
Well, this isn’t exactly “winter‘s snowy backyard”, but the handsome male Cardinal still stands out. After documenting the wildlife making its home in Rosslyn’s fields and forests, this is our first cardinal. In fact, we rarely capture images of songbirds. Too swift, perhaps. We document plenty of wild turkeys, and occasionally a grouse or pheasant. But not songbirds.
So, for good measure, here’s a zoomed in cameo!
Northern Cardinal, Cardinalis cardinalis (Rosslyn wildlife camera)
It’s worth noting that many of the excellent wildlife photographs we have been documenting over the last couple of winters demonstrate that the trail work collaboration between our friend and wildlife steward, John Davis, and Jack-of-all-trades, Tony Foster, serves wildlife far more frequently than humans. It’s truly remarkable, not only how much wildlife is thriving in the sanctuary, but also how readily deer, turkeys, bobcats, coyotes, raccoons, porcupines, etc. adopt the trails as their byways of choice.
I conclude with a quick note of gratitude for Tony and John, whose passion and perseverance enrich Rosslyn in so many ways. I’ll be posting additional photos soon so that you may enjoy a virtual Rosslyn safari, a voyeuristic glimpse into this thriving wildlife sanctuary tucked into an historic town at the edge of the greatest of lakes. It’s almost too good to be true!
Autumn Aeration: Tony Foster preparing Rosslyn’s lawns for a healthy, holistic 2023 growing season (Source: R.P. Murphy)
Autumn Aeration: Tony Foster preparing lawns for a healthy 2023 growing season (Source: R.P. Murphy)
