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The Week the House Became One



A lot has happened since the last blog post —  including an ambulance ride in a snowy whiteout. (You know, the kind where the road disappears and everyone pretends they can still see the lane lines.) Also there were a couple of nights in the hospital. That particular adventure, I’m happy to report, had a good ending. Whew.

Meanwhile winter is beginning to loosen its grip. We are solidly in double digit temps, and the days are warming up. And here’s something I never thought I’d say in my entire New England life: I am thrilled to be moving into mud season. Mud! Slush! Puddles! Bring it on. After months of frozen everything, a little squish underfoot feels downright festive.

And the house?   Well friends and neighbors, I do believe the house has officially had its aha! moment.

Thanks to Dan the Man and his fearless Marlborough Men brigade, the old cottage and the new addition are no longer awkward acquaintances politely nodding across a structural divide. They are united. One. Married at the ridge beam. If houses could sigh with relief, ours just exhaled. 

This is the moment the house stopped being two buildings

Standing ovation is due for team member Robert. We watched him move between engineering drawings, floor plans, and his calculator like someone politely explaining the laws of gravity to a stubborn building. Ice loads, snow loads, structural tie-ins — he checked them all. The result is a seamless connection between the new ell and the existing structure.

In frigid New Hampshire conditions, the crew climbed three stories to fasten beams together along the rooftop ridge. I didn’t inquire too closely about safety gear. From my vantage point they looked like determined ants scaling Mount Washington, except wearing hoodies and jeans, and carrying nail guns.

The roof underlayment went down to keep moisture at bay — which was immediately tested by a fresh six to eight inches of snow.

Naturally.

Because… February in New Hampshire.

 

 

The moment the house suddenly felt twice as big.
The windows are now all in (minus one late order at ground level). And suddenly you can feel the size of the main floor. You can stand there and sense how the light will move through the space, even with our cozy cottage ceilings.

Old cottage in front. New ell in the back. Finally behaving like one house.

The rooms feel open but still intimate — exactly the balance we hoped for.  In short, the house has turned a corner. The bones are strong. The light is coming. It feels less like a construction site and more like the beginning of something whole. Just one regret. We started so late that our Marlborough Men brigade worked through the frigid cold to button this up.  It's been quite a Man vs. Nature theme, just in time for warmer weather.

I'm a little ashamed to report we are still waffling on exterior color and design.  Somewhere between charming lake cottage and giant scoop of strawberry ice cream lies the correct shade. I'm still trying to find it.

We interviewed a painter this morning. Hopefully we'll figure this out very soon. Until next time .....



Location: Newbury, NH, USA

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