We went up to the River House last week at last, equipped with snowshoes in case we couldn't ski or make our way to the front door. Thanks to the zealous efforts of those big town snowplows, though, we could waltz right up to the front door, and with a few scoops of the snow shovel we brought, get right in. Wow. That is because, of course, what we foolishly think of as our driveway (about the length of our Harvard driveway) is a town road. Palmer Road, pathway to the two rights-of-way that will take up some indeterminate amount of our consciousness later.

But now is now. What we saw upon arrival is that the recommended roofer never came to drape the roof leak in plastic. Roof mounds of snow arch over the porch in gravity-defying shapes and clog the valleys of our quaint roofline, inviting more leaks. That will take up some indeterminate amount of our consciousness later...

We also saw lots and lots of good ol' Mike Palmer's stuff still littering the place. A motorcycle, a big black gas grill, a whole lot of crap all over the kitchen... He must be so happy to have sold his house in this real estate bust and gotten out of debt that he has walked away from a good deal of stuff. With the bad economy, my frugal self thinks there are people who would want this stuff-- not all of it is broken. Oh, good, something for me to do.

I have loaded onto my computer the Randolph Center weather forecast next to the Harvard forecast. I see each day the contrast between the two. The inescapeable fact came home to me that Randolph has less sun, at least in winter. This is a bummer for solar people. I dragged into Mark's office to break the news to him. He didn't seem to care. I don't know if this is because he didn't feel like taking it in at that point. Will there be enough sun to warm our house, power our electricity, heat our water? Is global warming, with its increased precipitation for the Northeast, taking away our solar ace-in-the-hole? My fears rubbed some of the sheen off the River House.

But when we went up there, the sun shone sometimes and the charm of the place enveloped me once again. We'll work out the energy issues. I have an excellent energy guy.

Bruce Hampton is working on design. I read the book, Patterns of Home, by the architects who wrote A Pattern Language, the classic on architectural design. I wrote a memo on the relevant points from it for Mark and Bruce. Found material to guide thinking on things like the flow through rooms, capturing light, and relating indoor to outdoor rooms. Great stuff. How about this one, "private edges, common core"? Great.

Bruce has drawn a zingy, fabulous new dormer for the master bedroom where we need an additional window, like the very steep dormer on the river side that adds so much to the quaintness of the house. But Mark sees big trouble with it in terms of snow and ice dam damage to the roof, leaks to the house. Wish we could have it, maybe we can?

I am now reading a book on kitchen design, plus I'll skim a couple more on house design. Then I'll be done on my inputs to architecture and turn my attention to permaculture. I won't be done with that for the rest of my life, and that is true.

Finally, we met with the farmer who plants the surrounding fields in corn, including our portion. Frank, Janie, and David, husband, wife, and brother, who own 300 acres and have 200 dairy cows. What skilled people they are, and soft-spoken, decent sorts, with a shabby kitchen in a beautiful old house with steep dormers like ours. We told them we're taking our field out of his corn crop. We'll ask him how much he would charge to plant a "green manure" crop--combined oats, peas and vetch-- for us this year, since Mark won't have his tractor up there til next year. Hope he's not too expensive. The field is compressed and barren-looking from at least 10 years of corn. We want to invite the microorganisms and soil creatures back, for a start.

Love,
Josie