Category: Archeology of Home
-
Lone Leaf
Sometimes a “fallen feuille” is a timely reminder. A lone leaf brave in its sensuous strength and solitude. Pretty apart. The ache and isolation of individuality. The irresistible siren call of winter… Lone Leaf Once sylvan whisper,once breezy dancerfree, fallen, silent,so solitary,a long way from thecanopy’s embrace,damp and delicateon rain ambered deck. Thanks, Pam, for…
-
Aerial Arborist Haiku
As often, Aaron spent his Saturday at Rosslyn, whittling down the bottomless punch list. His demeanor, perseverance, and smarts are a perennial hat trick, but his arboreal aptitude has proven again and again to be one of his superpowers. Yesterday and today his whittling was not metaphorical. High up — some 100’ to 120’ above…
-
Stump-to-Lumber
In yesterday’s post I mentioned that we’re felling trees again. But my update was brief, overlooking a couple of important details, so I’m revisiting the stump-to-lumber topic this afternoon. (I probably should have titled today’s post something more inclusive since our homegrown wood isn’t exclusively destined to become the next round of Rosslyn furniture, floors,…
-
Screening
Still “ciphering” on the particulars of the enclosure screening south of the icehouse terrace. Four days ago I riffed whimsical on the subtleties of decision making for the privacy fence that will conceal the unsightly but essential infrastructure located behind Rosslyn’s historic carriage house). A mid morning meditation on enclosure inspired by ongoing deliberations on…
-
Willsboro Paper Mill, circa 1900 and 1920
We return today to Willsboro’s industrial Boquet River shoreline a century and more ago. This follow-up to “Willsboro Mills Circa 1912: Grist Mill, Saw Mill, and Paper Mill” includes three intriguing glimpses of this once thriving site of which only a hint remains today. The aerial photograph on this vintage postcard above offers a birds-eye…
-
More Real than Realism
What, you ask, is more real than realism? Perhaps nothing. Or, perhaps plenty. Poetry, for example. Also art, stories, and so many other creative and curatorial initiatives. “Nothing is less real than realism. Details are confusing. It is only by selection, by elimination, by emphasis, that we get at the real meaning of things.” —…
-
Brutalist Boathouse
This past summer, our friend, Teel, visited us at Rosslyn. Her energy and unique perspective made for plenty of indelible memories, but she recently added another visual chapter to her Rosslyn legacy. For Susan’s birthday, she painted and gifted her this potent painting, a brutalist boathouse rendering as captivating as its subject. Originating in (and…
-
Persimmoning
As autumn and winter braid themselves into a textured tapestry of yesterdays and tomorrows, persimmoning is upon us in all its nectary extravagance. Hint of honey. Scent of cinnamon. Bliss. I began my morning with the tender caress and sweet kiss of an hachiya persimmon. These photographs tell the story. But the backstory, that’s better…
-
Octobering
Octobering is crisp, cooling, and colorful with serendipitous summer souvenirs, sun soaked and warm, scattered to accentuate bittersweet contrasts. Life starts all over again when it gets crisp inthe fall. — F. Scolt Fitzgerald (The Great Gatsby) After the mesmerizing months — sultry summer’s soporific thrum, bountiful blossoms, decadent harvest — Octobering is a reminder…
-
Mileage May Vary
Slide into the wood and leather cabin of our hand-me-down 1949 Riley RMB, and you’ll be transported (despite the sad fact that this handsome saloon has not been driven in about four decades), transported to an earlier time when details, materials, and finishes mattered. A time when motoring was an appreciated privilege whether commuting to…
-
Happy Birthday, Susan!
Today I wish a very merry, happy, and healthy birthday to the wonder woman with whom I’m as besotted today as I was that first summer more than two decades ago when we happened onto each other waterskiing, dancing, hiking, and laughing on the Adirondack Coast of Lake Champlain. From wanderlust to houselust and houselust…
-
Yesteryears Today
Today is the day between my late mother-in-law’s birthday and my wife Susan’s birthday. October 26 is also exactly half a year until my next birthday. An interstitial day, perhaps no more or less important than yesterday or tomorrow, and yet these in-between times, these slightly symbolic signposts draw my attention to time. The passage…