Soon I’ll reveal photographs of Rosslyn’s west and north elevations in their new incarnations, hardscape and landscape complete, sunken courtyard and deck arranged with furniture, vision and plan achieved at last. Soon. Spring is still early, and conditions remain premature. But soon. June, perhaps. Until then, a pensée, as our francophone friends might say.
Every wall is a door.
— Ralph Waldo Emerson
For now I offer you an snapshot from April 11, 2020 — deep in the pandemic when Susan and I began resuscitating a dream of rehabilitating the icehouse into a handsome, relevant, useful, and practical lifestyle space — and a couple of more recent glimpses.
In the image above the icehouse’s west elevation (totally) and north elevation (mostly) are solid, unfenestrated walls. This was not the case when we bought Rosslyn. Much of the north wall was filled with an immense multi-pane door installed horizontally to allow natural light inside. We removed this structure-compromising feature to safeguard the icehouse’s stability, but it was intended as a temporary measure.
Going all the way back, since the summer of 2006 when we purchased this property, we’ve wanted to transform this obsolete utility building into a relevant-for-the-21st-century utility building. But, alas, we’ve perennially and indefinitely postponed the project for a variety of reasons. Actually that’s not 100% true. We ensured the building’s preservation back in 2006-6 by tackling the most pressing challenges.
(Source: Preservation by Neglect: Icehouse On Ice)
Fast forward this this past autumn. Wider perspective and slightly different angle, but the transformation is apparent.
Walls into doors and windows. A literal manifestation of Ralph Waldo Emerson’s words.
And again from within looking toward the northwest late this winter.
Walls. Doors. Windows…
What do you think?