Tag: Transition
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The Art of Flux
We do not seek to conceal Rosslyn’s wrinkles with cosmetics, to shortchange her grace with pretense, to giddy-up her gait or hot rod her mojo. We strive to understand and embrace Rosslyn as she is, to nurture and encourage who she is becoming. In today’s post, a blueprint at best, I will endeavor to spotlight…
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Eclipse & Balloon
From historic solar eclipse to a hot air balloon appearing to land in Rosslyn’s back meadow, never a dull moment!
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Untethering Revisited
A little over a year ago, on October 26, 2022, I penned a post, “Leaping & Untethering“, attempting to grapple substantively with beginning to imagine our lives post Rosslyn. One of many posts over the last year and a half that approach this touchy topic, the words I wrote were cautious. I included the word…
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Intermingling
Recently we’ve been approaching that liminal space where Essex and Santa Fe obliquely overlap and intermingle. So many subtle signs. Lingering at the limits of liminality, savoring the flickering figments, and occasionally discovering that the mirages are not illusions. They are real. Like portals between the Adirondack Coast and the Southwest. An aperture between lake…
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When Apertures Become Windows
We’ve been finalizing a timely transition from porosity to fenestration in the icehouse rehab. Framed but temporarily concealed apertures have been cut out and transformed into doorways and windows. Jamb extensions, sills, and trims — carpentry confections that conjoin and integrate discrete elements into a cohesive architectural whole — are finally complete inside the icehouse.…
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The Art of Thresholds
I’m slightly obsessed with transitions and betweenness. Liminality and interstices. Metamorphosis, reawakening, and transformation inevitably weave themselves into my words about gardening and historic rehabilitation. In fact, in a not altogether exaggerated sense, Rosslyn Redux is a kind of carefree contemplation of thresholds, the art of thresholds, and the artifacts of crossing thresholds… Transitions. Flux.…
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The Art of Home
The art of home is a tidy title with an unpretentious posture. And yet it’s idealistic and evocative, ample and ambitious. Frankly, its restrained and self contained first impression is a little misleading. Maybe even a little ambiguous. What do I even mean? I’m not offering a catchy epithet for design and decor. Nor architecture. And…
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Midpoint Milestone: 6 Months Down, 6 Months to Go
Yesterday was a meaningful midpoint milestone in my quest to post a Rosslyn update every day without fail for an entire year. Six months, 26+ weeks, 184 days. One new installment every 24-hours without fail. Rhapsodizing Rosslyn, celebrating our team’s accomplishments, soapboxing historic rehab and adaptive reuse, showcasing seasonality snapshots and historic Essex memorabilia, weaving in some hyperlocal haiku and…
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Creative Collisions & Happy Accidents
A few days ago I came across a provocative Facebook post that artist Nick 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.…
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Camp Cherokee for Boys in Willsboro, New York
Have you ever heard of Camp Cherokee for Boys in Willsboro? If so, I’d love to learn more. So far the details are pretty thin… As we roll into the final days of 2022, I’ve been attempting to streamline my end-of-year projects. And while the prospect of simply deleting lingering items on the perennial punch list…
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“On Lake Champlain” Singalong
With Christmas leftovers diminishing, Christmas tree needles succumbing to gravity, and Christmas carols beginning to sound slightly cloying, it’s starting to feel a lot like… time for a transition. Sure, New Year’s Eve will briefly wrap us in Guy Lombardo’s “Auld Lang Syne” and Bing Crosby’s “Let’s Start the New Year Right”, but then what? How…
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Winter Solstice: Longer Days Ahead
Welcome to day one of the Adirondack Coast‘s coldest season. Today is the winter solstice, the first official day of winter, and — more importantly for the likes of my mother and others who favor longer days and shorter nights — the threshold between the briefest day and the most prolonged night and imperceptibly-but-steadily lengthening…