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The Beat Goes On (Even Without a Slab)

We still don’t have all the concrete, and the weather is freezing, so I won’t bore you with that (you’re welcome). But— hey hey hey —my heart positively sang when I learned from our loyal community that seven, yes SEVEN , building framers were hard at work on our house today while we’re away. The beat goes on… even without a slab.. There is real hope—actual, tangible, don’t-jinx-it hope—that we might have this expansion buttoned up before the depths of February. Hope is doing a lot of heavy lifting these days, but we’re sticking with it. With that optimism firmly in place, I wanted to pause and wish all of you—mostly close friends, neighbors, and a sprinkling of distant relatives—an absolutely fabulous, joyful, and, in these complicated global times, especially peaceful Christmas. Peaceful in the physical sense, and peaceful in the psychological sense too (the harder one). Since the slab has become something of a taboo subject, I’ll pivot to what is decidedly not taboo: travel. We mana...

Windsor Cottage History

When we bought our lake cottage, we were living in England — happily straddling life as both American and British subjects. This was the dual-citizenship version of having your cake and eating it too. Windsor Castle was an easy drive, and we found ourselves close by every week or two. So when Hubbie hung a sign on our New Hampshire abode that read Windsor Cottage ,  how many of you assumed we were hopelessly nostalgic for England — or even angling for a royal connection? Go ahead, ponder that. The history of our sliver of lake land begins long ago. Native Americans first inhabited Lake Soo-Nipi  or "Wild Goose Waters". Then, European settlers — mine among them (maybe yours too?) — arrived, saw the land, drew up deeds, and declared ownership. 

Ground Zero: Groundbreaking, Porch-Mangling, and Other Casualties

      Windsor Cottage in 1893   Windsor Cottage 1985   Windsor Cottage 2004 and as it appears today Welcome! Not sure how much we’ll learn along the way, but I thought it might be nice to chronicle this ten-month remodel adventure. We love our little lake cottage in Blodgett Landing—the tiniest census area in New Hampshire, which makes us feel very fancy, like we live in a three-road hamlet. Pine needles dust the streets, sunsets are gorgeous, our dock doubles as a Michelin-star restaurant (if you bring your own food and vino), and our old boat still chugs along each summer like it’s stuck in a 1980s family movie. The neighbors? A fabulous mix—diverse for New England (though let’s be real, this isn’t Miami or Berkeley). Still, it’s a patchwork of personalities, values, and quirks. Mostly they’re kind, warm, and helpful—which is lucky, because the climate here is not. Winters bite, summers bake, spring is basically a swamp, and autumn turns our quiet ...