Early mornings before the crew arrives, I anticipate the day’s accomplishments. Early evenings after the crew departs, I inspect the day’s accomplishments. Bookending industry and mess, thresholds and delays. Alone. Calm. Quiet. Considering. Troubleshooting. Planning. Distilling projects into punch lists. Looking out toward the barns, lights off inside the attic bunk room where I stand, a visual poem presents itself: rhymed gables.
It’s January 7, 2008 and I’m facing west, standing in the small room above our future bedroom. In truth, the photos accompanying this post were made at 7:55am in the morning. They were made to document progress. To catalyze constructive preparation. To help answer future questions.
Beyond the gable end window in the third story of Rosslyn’s ell (rear addition) the carriage barn is made diminutive by perspective and distance despite its significant scale. But scale isn’t the jewel here. It’s the roofline, the ceiling, the window. Geometry echoing. Rhymed gables.
I turn to my left, slowly, 90°, and look toward the southern dormer. Another verse. Rhymed gables. I’m facing south toward Sunnyside, another historic home, built shortly after Rosslyn. Again geometry echoes. The roofline, the dormer, the window.
An accident, you say? Coincidence? Perhaps…
Rhymed Gables
Day dusking,
darkening
into evening,
de-coloring
an echo
inside,
outside,
subtle but
satisfying,
rooflines rhyme,
window, ceiling,
standing seam,
fascia molding,
all congruent,
humble harmony.
What do you think?