What Were We Working With?

November 11, 2009

Hello, friends!

What were we working with? This entry from June reminds me:

“So we flung out a net and captured a house, last remnant of a large dairy farm in the valley. No barn, but some interesting ruins. Now we have to tame it, overgrown mess that it is—not unruly, rather it just sits there inert, gently crumbling, passively resisting self-preservation, consorting with leaks and rot and the forces that cause them. Mark and I were intensely active all winter and spring, learning about old houses, designing, probing, deciding—Mark engineering like mad. The photos I hope will accompany this posting should give you an idea of the challenge.

First, we drove up there repeatedly all the cold winter, clambering over a wall of snow and ice that consistently fell off the roof in front of the door (example of need for engineering solution). Walked through gloomy rooms trying to figure out what we had bought. The house kept getting bigger to me. The sun of early spring melted feet of snow off the foundation and roof revealing resplendent shabbiness pretty much everywhere. In April, we brought in four builder finalists (result of extensive search and network effort on my part, looking for green builders). They were remarkably consistent in their reaction. “Yup,” they’d say grimly, tramping through the upstairs after taking in the first floor, “Yup. Lotta work.” We still say that. We chose George White of Tunbridge, the next town. A gentle man in his early 40’s, he’s a musician and a reader and grew up on Cape Cod with the children of John Todd, found of the New Alchemy Institute and one of the cradles of sustainability. He loves and understands old houses.

The house is plain white, with a sturdy, well-built original rectangle facing east/west, built around 1850 for someone named Z. Sprague. About 1880, a trendy new addition (an “ell”) was added, pointing south. They threw it up on a ramshackle row of rocks. It gives us the steep gable and porches east (to the river) and west (to the hills). The old part has a cellar that Mark can almost stand up in (not that useful); its floor is damp but it has no sump pump, a good sign. Also good: a cistern gravity-fed from a spring high on the western ridge, so we will have water even when the power goes out. Under the ell lies one of those unpleasant spots called a crawl space.

The kitchen is big and hilarious. Two grimy sinks, one in an island to which pipes funnel hot water, said pipes crossing the floor between sink and stove at an altitude of 14 inches! Both Mark and I have tripped spectacularly over them. Why would anyone do that?

The kitchen boasts a 20-foot wall due south with zero windows in it, just a discouraged laundry area and a rank woodshed.

The previous owners used the dining room as their bedroom. I guess they weren’t afraid of the stuffed animal heads bedecking the living room. Now the rooms are empty and the river shows prettily through the windows. The floors are striped dark and light birch—clearly an 1880 gentrification. One more small room that has the 1850 flooring that I love, 7’ spruce boards, will become the library, a dream coming true. Last and definitely least is one of the rattiest little bathrooms you ever could see. Mark loves to point out the zaniness of the toilet’s location, right in the middle of the floor. Why would anyone do that?

The second floor has two north bedrooms, slant-ceilinged with the good old floors and doors, one for each daughter or for lots of guests. Another bedroom with a river view will be Mark’s office. An odd, large spot at the top of the rank, narrow stairway (that we will get rid of) will become the bathroom and laundry. Moving south, a fourth, pretty little bedroom leads to an unfinished ramshackle room, with holes in the floor covered by old doors. The due-south wall has one small window. Those two rooms will be thrown together to become our bedroom.”

November: I took glee in posting the ugliest pictures I could find, mostly, because the ugliness is all gone and we are feeling good about it all. It’s been intense, as you will see.

Josie

Next post: What will we do with this mess?