restoration

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Want to live in Paradise?

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It was John Adams who deemed this stretch of land along the Connecticut River in 1771 Paradise.  “I have spent this morning in riding through paradise,” he wrote in his diary.  “My eyes never beheld so fine a country.  From Bissell’s Tavern, to Hartford Ferry, eight miles, is one continued street, houses all along, and a vast prospect of level country on each hand, the land very rich and husbandry very good.”

The land is still very rich – the meadows with corn, tobacco and squash, and the street with houses that span the evolution of unique and important architecture from the 17th to the 2oth centuries.  There is Wood, a memorial library that offers not only books and story times and gingerbread festivals, but also archives the stories of South Windsor’s people and their times.  Its galleries display art, birds and Indian artifacts, and its people are the kindest, gentlest and friendliest around.  You can buy local produce, meat, eggs, flowers, and more directly from the farmers who live here.  You can walk or ride your bike along this 8-mile stretch of level street.  It is 15 minutes to Hartford, or Bradley Airport.

And that is why, in all our travels over forty years, we have never left.  And why, we had to save the Olcott House for the next traveler who would like to share in this experience.

The house will be for sale at all stages of its restoration, and will be priced accordingly.  It is now at $250K.

Continued restoration will include: sill and foundation work, windows replaced with period true divided light 12/12’s, new chimney stack, new mechanicals, period kitchen,  the original double doors and frame will be reproduced, the coffin door returned and, most likely, new wood siding will be installed.  The interior will be carefully cleaned and repainted.  (The floors will not be sanded!)

If you are, or know of, anyone who longs for an original 18th century home, one that has retained so much of its original fabric – wall paneling, cupboards, wide pine flooring, exceptionally paneled front staircase, a Beverly jog with corner fireplace, and more – call the number above, or email info@sunderlandperiodhomes.com

The house sits on 1.7 acres of land on the meadow and river side of Old Main Street.  The street is the stuff of dreams for history buffs – once a part of Windsor, CT’s first town, there is still much to discover.  If not interested in purchase, come anyway to visit and enjoy our wonderful street, town and Library.

I’ll be happy to give a tour of either!

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Still peeling away

Here are some pictures of what we have uncovered so far.  We have removed walls that covered original paneling in the keeping room, and removed the layer of bricks that were applied over the surface of the original fireplace.  Of course, the original keeping room fireplace and walls now look like a big mess!  But rest assured, we do know what we are doing.  Cleaned up and restored, all will be well again!

This look had to go!

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before

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after- original brownstone lintel – but hearth is gone :(

It is obvious that this chimney was rebuilt, fooled with, and then some – old bricks were re-used to rebuild the stack.

We peeled away newly framed 2 x 4 and sheetrock walls in the keeping room to reveal original boards beneath – even the door was still in place!

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Keeping room wall, behind it is a staircase to the second floor; to the left is the back of the house.  The door and wall was hidden behind a 2×4 wall with sheetrock over it.  You can see by the green paint that the last time these walls were exposed, they had a kitchen sink and a cupboard applied right over the door!

The wall with the horizontal beaded boards have that awful kitchen window in it – but you can see where two twelve over twelves once sat.  We may remove this wall altogether (between the two posts) and continue the lean-to across the back of the house for a kitchen.  Then this whole space would be ample for a kitchen/dining area or kitchen/family room.

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Horizontal beaded boards are across this exterior wall of the keeping room – you can see the green paint, top right where that cupboard hung over the wall and door. 

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This is the wall to the left of the keeping room fireplace.  The horizontal beaded boards continue into the pantry/borning room.  Can’t wait to clean the paint off!  Where paint has peeled away from the boards you can see the original oxblood red color.

One of the amazing finds in this house is that it has almost all of its original wide pine flooring.  We have peeled away layers (x 10!) to uncover them, but they are mostly in tact.  Some, unfortunately, have been sanded and varnished, but some are untouched and dry as a bone.  How about the colors in this room?!

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white dust – it’s powdery, mildew or something from the underlayment?

and then there’s this amazing paneled wall in here…

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never saw a wall that juts in like this for the fireplace before; and that’s a closet to the left, with featherboarding inside, and some scribbling I can’t quite make out – yet. And, we have the original closet door, and passage door – this one’s a modern replacement

There’s more – but will save for the next post.  I’ll leave you with this – under the front stair (there was a suspicious opening) I found a name written on the stringer – it looks like “Grant” to me – can’t make out the first name (Asa?).  Could be one of the Grants noted for their wonderful CT Valley Doorways.  Have some research to do…

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this is the underside of the front hall stair, going to the 2F; I’ve turned the picture to get a better view of the name on the stringer – if anyone recognizes it – please let me know!

 

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Here we go again…

Now that we’ve saved it from the wrecking ball, we’re going to have to fix this old house.  Where to begin?  Just begin, from the ground up.  Pick a room and start stripping everything that doesn’t belong.  We started in the Beverly jog.  What a delightful fireplace, what a great space, just off the keeping room.  Breakfast nook?  Anytime nook.  I am daydreaming ahead!  First we have to pull up the rug, the linoleum under that, debris, etc to get to the floor boards.  The good news – they are all there!  The bad?  They’ll have to come up to see why they’re sagging (extremely) in the middle.  Broken joists?  Disengaged joists?  Rotted sills?  We expect all of it.  No worries as to falling through, the dirt floor is probably just a foot below.  (Now there’s a selling point!)  Doesn’t bother us, we live with that now in three quarters of our house.  But most buyers are not looking for that.  What to do?  We have a plan.

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Beverly Jog, first floor

Oops – we didn’t find that leg under the debris – carpenter’s still working : ) which is why the room now looks like this, floor uncovered and fireplace open:

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Beverly Jog has its brownstone hearth! And work to do at the back wall…

Some before pictures…

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front room wall was firred out all around, and can you believe – a fake beam was added!  they modernized, then tried to make it look like an old house???

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propane heater installed and exhausted right at the front wall of the house!

Oh my.  This room felt small when we first walked in, the windows were deep and newly framed.  Turned out the whole room had been firred out almost a foot to add insulation.  Even the ceiling and floors were firred up and down.  The good news, under the rug, firring strips, linoleum, tongue and groove flooring, more linoleum, etc. we found the original intact wide board flooring!  They even framed over the coffin door area, with door in place.  Terrible door, guess it was better to incorporate it than dispose of it.  Now here’s what it looks like in there stripped.

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Crooked chairrail of course, lower section of wall is canted out – hmmm, rotted sills and posts, you think?  Of course.  But still can’t get over finding the original flooring in tact.  And – the chairrail has grooves on top and the framing has traces of guides for interior window shutters.  How cool is that?  And, we actually have one of them!  And there’s an original cupboard to the right of the fireplace.  Doors are missing of course, and trim, but the dark original color of the wood lining it is preserved under the neon wallpaper.

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Much to do here.  Can’t wait to see the “after” pictures myself!

Some must be thinking we’re a little crazy.  At this point in our lives, I should to – but instead I find that the discovery and possibilities still excite!  Can’t wait to transform this little gem.

Stay tuned…

 

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Old house dilemma solved – for now…

The only way to solve it was to buy it.  But it will continue to be for sale – to the person who loves it for its history and its features and doesn’t want to knock it down.  We had to buy it to keep it safe.  The restoration will be a long, slow process as we are otherwise engaged in a very long and time consuming project elsewhere.  But little by little we will peel away the awful things that have happened to it – vinyl siding, home depot windows, layers of neglect.  The chimney will be rebuilt.  Because of its location, this million dollar project will be reclaimed for much less and may need fundraising efforts.  I am thinking of selling bricks.  Perhaps for a small fee one can have their name live forever on a brick in the to-be-rebuilt attic chimney of the Asahel Olcott house.

There will be little or no profit here, at least financially.  This is not an upscale neighborhood.  It is a humble farming community, desirable only to the folks sensitive enough to value the quiet ambiance of this street along the Great River, that brought initially the Dutch and then the folks from Dorchester to settle here, Connecticut’s first town.  The profit is to the street, to the neighbors, and to Connecticut’s rich history.  We are doing this out of respect for Asahel Olcott who responded in 1775 to the Lexington Alarm.  Now we’ve responded to his alarm, to preserve the homes of our ancestors, who not only fought for our freedom, but gave us a rich architectural heritage that sustains us physically, aesthetically and psychologically.  We still wonder at, and learn from, their courage, their efforts, their class.

Will keep you posted on the progress.

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Old House Dilemma

It’s been a while – but I wanted to write about a dilemma that my neighborhood is facing now and that many neighborhoods will be facing in the coming years regarding the preservation of our old homes.

An 18th century house that was in the same family for years and not properly maintained, is in danger of being demolished.   We used to find these houses somewhere in the countryside, some half standing, some collapsed into their cellar holes.  But this one stands proudly in a neighborhood of other historic houses and is a prominent member of a National Historic Register District.

We work hard to maintain our own homes.  How do you politely ask your neighbor to please maintain the integrity of his?   Can you ask – when was the last time you checked your sills?  Can you say – your brownstone foundation is lovely, but it’s caving in a bit here, can you fix it???

No one ever does that.  Then the house goes on the market for a song and someone buys it because they just want to live on Main Street because it has all the charm and character they want.  But then it turns out they don’t want the house after all because it will cost too much to fix to their liking and lifestyle, so they decide to knock it down.  Next thing you know, another plastic spanking new maintenance free, history free, house is in its place.

If everyone did that with the 18th century houses that need work, well, goodbye history, goodbye charm.

And so here we are.  The dilemma.  How do we reach the soul of the new owners, teach them to be sensitive, to feel the wonder and awe that we  have for the character and charm of the old house whose every hand planed board we cherish?  Whose paneling and plaster walls and crooked floors mean more to us than a neighborhood of Toll Brothers homes????  Those homes are FINE for people who want to live in new and shiny, and only want to visit ours!

But our neighborhood is a part of American history.  It is packed with the stories of farmers and furniture makers, merchants and theologians, governors and silversmiths, stories that are kept alive and proudly displayed in the architecture they created, the houses they lived in!   For every house we lose, we lose another essential piece of the history of who we are and how we got here.

So I pose our dilemma to anyone who may read this.  The new owner of the Olcott House, circa 1750 – 1781 – a center chimney colonial with wide pine floors, fireplaces, raised paneling, and a Beverly jog that has a beautifully paneled corner fireplace – has decided that the cost to fix it will be more than the cost to knock it down and build a new one.  They decided it must go.  The brownstone foundation in one corner in the basement is “caving in”, the sills are rotted, interior alterations too many.   Sounds like a typical restoration to me.  If I had examined the house before buying it, I would have weighed these issues before handing over a check.  I would have known what I was in for.  Or I would have walked away and left it for the next guy who wanted this old house, wanted to be a part of its history more than anything.

What do you think?  It is a tough decision, that many neighborhoods will have to tackle.  At some point, is an old house just a total loss and we have to let it go?  Yes, sometimes.  But this one is restorable.   So, if the cost to restore is more than the cost to knock it down and build new – do you think we need let it go?  Feel free to weigh in.  Here’s a link to a Facebook page called Historic Hartford – a wonderful resource – for info, tours, workshops, history – in the Hartford area and all of New England.   Just scroll down to Olcott House – and let us know what you think!

Historic Hartford, Connecticut

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old house fancy

Antiques and old house lovers like me always have their eye out for interesting architecture.  Going for a drive somewhere is elevated to a journey of discovery.  Whether it is the excitement of finding something unique in old house design or the satisfaction of coming across one that is well preserved and loved, there’s bound to be something interesting or new.

On a recent visit to Newport, driving around some of its tight streets where houses are knitted together within an inch of each other, I noted how clever the early colonists had to be in expanding their homes for growing families.  The juxtaposition of styles could be quite peculiar.  Considering the bit of land they had to work with, it’s no surprise that some expansions might look a bit odd – like this one:

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Whether old or new, odd as it is, it works for me.  There’s still a charm and fancy to it.  That collision of gable roof into gambrel, old materials and primitive odd chimney, the mix of clapboard and shingle, proud and sturdy window frames, crooked old door – this quirky little corner house, for me, just feels right.  It’s not just the materials – which are certainly key – but the proportion, balance, the weight of it.

Unlike some thoughtless additions done to old houses today, this one was thought out, each detail considered.  Down the street from me there is a late 19th century home that for the past year or so has undergone renovation (I use the term ‘undergone’ as in a patient who’s undergone a terrible surgery).  In original form, it was a simple, graceful, symmetrical little thing, but the new owner needed double the size.  Thankfully most of it went off the back.   All things considered, it could have been worse.  But then, out of the blue, out of necessity to house many vehicles, a garage the size of Mount Vernon arose.  Smack in line with the front of the house and dwarfing it, the three large bays face the road.  Really?  Wouldn’t you want to hide that?  Attach it behind the house if you must, or site it in the back forty, but don’t compete with the house.

There’s so much we can do to wreck the ambiance of a lovely home, to wake you from that dream glimpse into the past – but a major one that is hard to change is to build a garage (a giant one) with many bays of overhead doors and plop it right up front and next to your house.

How quickly this “acceptable” renovation went awry.  The builder/homeowner made a decision for convenience rather than aesthetic.  When a lovely old home lies outside of historic districts, there’s not much we can do.  There are no architectural police.  The old house doesn’t come with directions.

In the old days, their hands were tied, designs were few and fairly typical.  Carpenters tools were limited, their knowledge came from a few books, and there were rules.  They did their best to observe them, and when they stretched them the results were still “quaint.”

Now we have new tools, books and ideas – but no rules.  For old houses, that can only work in the right hands – the hands of those who have studied those old rules and are passionate about them.  Thankfully there are many.  There are experts to consult – for free!  Historians, historic district commissions and preservation groups – local, statewide, nationwide – all want to help.  Even museums to visit.  For any area outside of our own bailiwick, we need to put egos aside, and just ask.  Go on a journey of discovery – and may you find many surprises, fashioned by the “right hands.”

 

 

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summer reading

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For old house lovers, and for all who wonder what it’s like to do the dirty work of taking them down, taking them apart, saving and stockpiling their materials, preserving or restoring them  – you’re sure to enjoy this romp through Anne Baker’s life.  This may be her first book, but it reads like her tenth.   This passionate preservationist knows how to weave a tale.   From growing up in her grandmother’s old manse in Warren, RI to the house that “disappeared” overnight, her adventures in saving old structures are broad and captivating.

We met Anne a long time ago while in college.  She introduced herself as “Pete.”  Said her dad always wanted a boy.  We were up on the porch roof puttying the 2nd floor windows of the 1800’s house we’d bought in our last year of college.  (It had no heat, plumbing, electricity, a pump outside for water, and a bucket in the shed for when nature called)

Pete drove her big black antique car right onto our front lawn.   A petite blonde, with a pony tail, weighing all of about ninety pounds, spilled out of the driver’s side.  She wanted to welcome us to the neighborhood, thank us for fixing up the old place, and invite us to see her own labor of love just down the street.  We were used to people stopping by when we were working on old houses, but not used to meeting anyone who knew much about them, so we thanked her kindly but passed on the invitation.  Initially.

A few weeks later we decided to check out her project.  Needless to say we were stunned.  A whole new world opened up for us, and these neophytes were even further hooked.  She and her husband became valuable advisers in our next steps.   One of our finds was an ancient house nearby with a massive chimney that you could access and walk between the fireplaces via a cubby through the staircase – how exciting!  But it was in a terrible location.  We deliberated whether we could live there – then Anne and her husband Bob suggested we dismantle and move it.  What?!  We hadn’t heard of such a thing.   The rest was history.  We’ve dismantled, relocated and restored many since then.

You can read about her own house project along the banks of the Westport River, and many others, in this book.  What a storied life, what a woman.  Sadly, she passed about a year and a half ago, at the age of 82, still learning, always researching.  Sorely missed, but by example, forever inspiring.  Before there was women’s lib, this determined, confident, adventurous, passionate and independent woman was already doing what she wanted, in a man’s world.

Enjoy!

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what’s wrong with this picture?

I have a complaint.  What a surprise.  I just don’t understand why some people want to change Paradise.  I suppose if they make it to heaven, they’ll be switching out the pearly gates for low maintenance fiberglass and changing the gardens to plastic!

In my own neighborhood these days some terrible changes have been taking place.  We have a historic district that is cared for by the historic district commission.  Within that district are a few houses built before it was designated historic.  These were not faithful reproductions, but acceptable.  Over the last thirty years, through the building booms, a few rear lots and approved building lots appeared that kept the neighbors and the commission busy and worried.  Builders and newcomers wanted to build and live on our lovely, historic street.  I completely understand wanting to reside in such a picturesque place, and we welcome any sensitive, like minded folk.  Two centuries ago there were many more houses here that were lost during the days of the Depression, it would be great to have them back.  Or let them come to restore some of the homes that have been neglected and need restoration. Come, love this place as we do, help restore, enjoy and protect it.

But that is not what most newcomers have in mind.  Someone please explain to me why these folks don’t understand what it is that drew them here in the first place.  It is right under their noses – wood clapboard houses, small paned windows, brick center chimneys, brownstone steps, split rail fences – how easy is that?  So simple.

These people need a lesson in seeing.  As in art – it’s about seeing.  Everyone should take a drawing or painting class at some point in their lives to learn to see.  It’s amazing how much is missed when you don’t.    In this case, one of the folks who built here, just one house removed from the historic district, saw a beautiful neighborhood but apparently missed every detail that made it special – and built herself an Arizona ranch!  Yes, big windows, stucco walls, flat roof.  Another, fortunately for them but unlucky for us, came in before the district was designated – and built a raised ranch.  Lord help us.  Mother nature cracked its foundation twice as they were building – she was on our side! – but as man is apt to be stubborn – he fixed it.

A more recent newcomer purchased an old timer’s reproduction home, that had weathered nicely over time and had a good stand of old tree growth and lush landscape.  He proceeded to replace the front door with a mission style/modern door, placed plastic domes over his basement windows and moved his electric meter smack in front of the house!  Guess he likes looking at electric meters?  Then proceeded to devastate the picturesque landscape, strafed it, cut down all the old growth trees, opening it up to the surrounding neighbors properties – so it now looks like a bomb hit it.  (and the neighbors wish it had).  He plans to build a ranch house on the lot behind (approved long ago).  Unfortunately, historic district commissions cannot dictate the style of house, only its materials and try to assuage the details.  Now why would someone with these intentions move into such a place?  Why would anyone want to upset their neighbors, destroy a neighborhood, thumb their noses at the past?  It is ironic that the very thing that draws them here, they do not see or understand, and thus proceed to destroy.  The neighborhood is forever changed.

The changes are insidious.  Decorative cornices are removed to make way for low maintenance aluminum.  Wood clapboards removed for low maintenance vinyl.  True divided lite windows replaced with vinyl and snap in grills.  Wood or slate roof shingles replaced with black asphalt.  It goes on.  Even wood split rail fences are being replaced with fiberglass!

I want to live in an old sepia photo taken in 1910.  I want to walk down around the bend on that dirt road that leads to the big crooked house with the well out front and the giant elm spread over it.  I want to live in a house that nature can take back any time and not leave a trace.  I like living in a real world.  It may be less convenient, but not by much.  An extra sweater in winter, a bit more elbow grease in maintenance, a floor that leans this way or that, but overall a much more human experience.  I look out my window, through the wavy glass held together by muntin bars fashioned by a craftsman’s hand, and I see the tree they came from.  I think of the floors it gave us, the paneled walls, the corner cupboard, the kitchen table, the salad bowl.   The bricks for the chimney came from the clay under the ground by the stream.   How can you not be moved by this?

If only the sensitive would move into these peaceful places, I guess we’d have found Paradise.  Perhaps that is not to be, but we must keep trying.  We must educate them.  We need to teach them at an early age, to open their hearts to the past, and open their eyes to see.

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house moving

So often today we find old houses just inches from the road.   Encumbered by wires, telephone poles, trees out of control, so much has changed since the road was tranquil and dirt and the transport a slow and steady horse and buggy.  Now as we speed by in fast cars, we wonder how the homeowner can sleep at night without worry that they’ll be awakened by a crash into their living room.  Somehow these homes have survived, and their owners learned to live with the threat.  But they don’t have to.  When progress has encroached too much into your front yard it just may be time to move away from it – and take your house with you.

In the old days I suppose a team of oxen and a dozen hardy men tackled the task.  These days we have trucks and tractors and bulldozers, steel beams and pneumatic equipment to help a few hardy men.  Here are some photos of the process, in case you might be considering such a move, and want to know a bit of what it takes.  First this house had to be moved in two sections, so they were separated, secured, and weather protected.  The foundation, old stone and dirt, had to be dug away, jackhammered, excavated; the sills, framing and chimney supported; tracking excavated and created to roll the house sections to their new site, which of course had to be dug out for a new basement and foundation, creating a new, usable basement which is every old house owners dream.  Well, most.

It was amazing to watch these professional house movers work.  Their confidence in placing the steel, shimming the fireplace hearths and foundation (which had to be removed without collapsing!), and then moving the sections to their new spot, joining the two and leveling with their pneumatic system.  It was quite a feat, and flawless.

Aside from dealing with where to bury or move all the “potatoes” (giant boulders) the excavator removed from under the ground, the regrading of the site should go well, and the new landscaping will be an improvement.  The homeowners will feel like they moved to a whole new site where the landscape has changed, along with the views from every window.  Meanwhile they got to take their beautifully restored and very original antique house with them.

Enjoy!

getting started

separating sections and securing

main house to be swung around to join ell

placing steel

main house to be swung back and clockwise to join ell

the careful move back

almost there

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who will be the caretakers?

One chilly New England morning in our drafty 17th century house, our daughter was hurrying around in nylon stocking feet across our splintery wide pine floorboards in search of shoes.  Needless to say, she was not in a good mood when her stockings caught on some protruding rose head nails  “completely ruining her day.”  More than thirty years of living  in this house, maneuvering through the worst of its restoration days, and she still thinks she can walk barefoot across the floors unscathed?  She swore that if we left her the house, the first thing to be replaced would be those ornery floorboards.

And I thought I knew this child?  I actually thought she would be the one who would care the most.  I thanked heaven for that revelation, and now know what to do with our house when we’re done with it.  There will be interviews!  There will be a protective covenant!  There will be photos and pleading and overseers.  I will pay someone to maintain “no trespassing signs” for perpetuity.  I’d rather nature took it back than have some ignorant soul replace the floors with smooth sanded tongue and groove, the windows with insulated ones with snap in grills, vinyl siding, asphalt roofs and aluminum doors.  Our biggest nightmare is to have a future owner disgrace it.  But unless you can leave it to a preservation society with a huge endowment, there are no guarantees.  Ignorance, naiveté, insensitivity, abound.  The only guarantee is that, if possible, future owner be forewarned – I will come back to haunt you.

This brings me to a question that many of us antiques lovers are asking these days – is there enough interest from today’s youth to sustain these old homes for tomorrow?  Everyone under 40 seems to be glued to their blackberries, computer screens, GPS’s and cable TV.  In between they’re fitting in everything from Yoga to Zumba, carting kids to a dozen activities, and trying to earn a living in a recession.  Who has time to care about old houses?  They’re expensive to fix, drafty to heat, and difficult to maintain.  In an age of quick fixes and cheap solutions, ambiance, character and history take a back seat.

It’s a cycle.  These homes have lived through this before.   Many were lost, but this time I think the indignities previously mentioned, like vinyl siding and asphalt, will actually sustain them until that next generation of sensitive, caring folk – enjoying a recurring prosperity – can rediscover and restore them.

Recently I wrote a letter to an editor of an antiques journal, commiserating with his laments on the digital age and lack of youthful interest in all things old.  Here are excerpts:

Hello Mr. Fiske,

…..I was just reading your article about the digital age.  Well done, as usual, and a bit distressing.  Yes, we are surely seeing a great change in technology and culture as we’ve previously known it, and we, as old dogs, will have to learn new tricks.  It’s disconcerting at this stage in our lives, but we were not promised an end to the challenges, just a little help with medicare and living expenses :)

But our hearts still warm at the sight of a banister back chair, or the warm patina of an old dresser.  And yes, there’s nothing like seeing it in person.  Of course, I have to touch it.  I have to reach into the past and connect with its maker.  (Which is why I’m dangerous in museums!)  ….. I have hope that the younger generation will eventually come around, and slow down enough to notice these treasures.  While they’re busy right now trying to carve a life out of a dense job market, and scramble through this awful recession, I believe they will turn their attentions backward again, when they realize that everything of substance is behind them.  The virtual world may be good for certain technical, medical and scientific progress, and a bit of entertainment, but we are still human.  We still long to touch something of quality, something hand crafted with style and grace.  We need to connect with our ancestry, and learn something of our past.

I think, for this new generation, it is not the product, but the packaging.  I believe they would love the product once they were introduced to it.  Their heads are in the stars right now, but their feet are still on the ground.  They live in houses that need furniture for comfort and art for the soul.  With patience, wisdom, and a little savvy, we can engage them in their world…..

….Toward that end I am presently fashioning a program to introduce students to 18th century architecture.  I think they’ll be inspired to see the early house frame and how they can take it down and put it up again with pegs, and how the early craftsmen fashioned their doors, their paneling, their cupboards, and how “green” is not a new concept, but it’s been right here in their own back yard for over two hundred years.  If even only a few are inspired, then we can gain satisfaction in knowing that the job of preservation and the work of caring for our treasures, large and small, will continue to flourish with them….”

We must be active and alert in our struggle to maintain enthusiasm for the treasures of our heritage.  It is not just the work of preservation groups.  We must be personally diligent, patient and persevere.

Now I have to go hug my house, and have a talk with my daughter.