Author: Geo Davis
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Dual Wielding
It’s hard to conjure a quintessential cowboy duel movie scene without picturing a pair of pistols brandished in gauntlet gloved fists. An intense glare. A fierce posture. Come what may… And so we salute Tony for this dual wielding still captured today by Glen. The very picture of efficiency (and hopefully accuracy), this ostensibly unstaged…
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Boathouse Restructuring
Today we turn the calendar back 16 years to Rosslyn’s boathouse restructuring. Some eighteen months or so into our rehabilitation project we had already sailed past our most generous timeline for completion. And the end was far from near. In fact, the finish line continued to retreat the more we advanced upon it. And, as…
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Hung Tree Unhung
An arboreal alert from Glen, a prompt and well managed resolution by Tony, and a faltering first foray into a poem by me. Glen: When I went to measure the gate I noticed a tree had broken off and hung up on other tree just above wire fence by the compost bin. Tony made short…
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Hostess with the Mostest
Yesterday a friend expressed confidence that his dog would notify him if an intruder entered his home. Our labrador retriever lets us know if someone arrives at our house, I explained, but whether family, friend, or intruder? It’s anybody’s guess. Carley welcomes one and all with enthusiasm. I laughed and suggested that an intruder brandishing…
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Dialing in Details
Allow me a morning meditation (minus constructive conclusions.) A wandering wonder. About process. About creative risk. About composing, crafting, constructing, carpentry,… Allow me a moment to meander from brainstorming and “ciphering” to dialing in details. Because details matter. But how we discern details, how we wend our way to destinations can be circuitous. Maybe even…
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Mute Muse: Swan Song
Two years ago today the mute swan returned to Rosslyn’s reopened “duck pond” and — for an all too brief interlude — we celebrated. Many of us indulged a moment of optimism that the solitary bird, ill equipped for our harsh winter conditions, might manage to make it to spring. Let’s rewind just a little…
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Snowstorm, March 1, 2007
I’ve been profoundly grateful that this winter has been gentler than winters past. Lake Champlain’s atypically high water levels and a pair of weather sensitive outdoor projects were the principle concerns. And while both still might be adversely affected if March delivers lots of snow (or rain) it’s high time I acknowledge our good fortune.…
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Ferry Rhythm
Since our earliest interest in Rosslyn — back in 2005-2006 when we were falling in love with this property but still unable to fathom how we might transform our pipe dream into reality — the ferry rhythm appealed to me. The ferry’s visual and audible “metronome” braided a subtle but hypnotic soundtrack into our visits.…
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Plank by Plank
A hale hurrah to Glen and Tony for their enclosure fence progress. Plank by plank, they’re installing the tree-to-timber pickets, advancing the privacy screen behind Rosslyn’s carriage barn that will conceal the generator, mini-split compressor, propane tank, etc. while framing the sunken courtyard west of the icehouse. Yet another tree-to-timber project, all of the cedar…
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Poetics of Firewood
Hats off to Steve Cooley who’s responsible for bucking, splitting, and stacking a whole lot of firewood. It’s a good feeling to be laying up firewood for *next* winter when we’re not even through this winter. And that curiously contented feeling prompts me to consider the poetics of firewood. What I was in my last…
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Door Reconceived for Icehouse Bathroom
It’s time for an overdue chronicle of the antique door we adapted and upcycled for the icehouse bathroom. From concept through re-fabrication and installation, this project demanded the focus, precision, and creativity of Peter Vaiciulis. The photograph of the bottom of this post offers testament to his impressive execution. Although I prioritized upcycling and adaptive…
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Flicker Feather?
This morning, eyes down, surveying the dirt for precocious bulb shoots tricked by the lack of snow, my eye caught site of this bold but small feather. Perfection. Found art. An artistic artifact. Nestled into the weathered end grain of logs slowly succumbing to the sirencall of weather — rain, sun, snow, wind — and…