Windsor Cottage Chronicles

We’ve been drumming our fingers for four days. Equipment woes and a three-day weekend have slowed things down. Our builders spent much of Friday wrestling with machinery, and over the long weekend, Doug, the Excavator, and his newly repaired sidekick, Doug-Less , the Front Loader, sat alone on our plot as a Nor'Easter blew through, dropping the temperature into the low 40s.      The mornings are colder now, and everyone I talk to has a story that starts with “... poured the foundation too late in the season” and ends with "cracked foundation.”  I briefly consider the worst possibility if we continue to delay. Big projects have their ups and downs, and I’ll admit, I’m in a bit of a down spiral right now. But then I consider that our builders are good people — they care deeply about their craft, and when the machines roll again, I know they’ll be all in. They take a lot of pride in their work and experience. Even so, from my perspective, every quiet day feels...

After a long weekend (with weather too perfect to be productive), the crew rolled in bright and early Monday, fueled by muscle, momentum, and maybe sheer stubbornness. Their mission: remove what remained of the old ell. It was a long, hard day, and by late afternoon everyone was moving a little slower. One of the guys had caught some kind of early seasonal virus, but true to the brawn nature of building, he was here—sniffling, sweating, and working it off. By the end of the day, the ell was gone, the air was full of sawdust and satisfaction, and everyone had earned their rest.  The dollhouse foundation Later, I stood back and looked at what was left. How is it that an empty foundation looks like a dollhouse? How did we ever have an office and gym in that tiny space? And up above—our den, with its wraparound couch, game table, television, and elaborate fireplace—it all felt so much bigger when it was full of life. Tuesday dawned quieter, but only for a moment. The crew soon discove...

Prepping for Demo: Goodbye Windows Why is it that watching a construction site is so mesmerizing? Little kids press their noses to the fence, and apparently I do too. It’s like fireworks—loud, colorful, and slightly dangerous—but in this case, the sparks are flying because someone’s wielding an electric saw instead of a Roman candle. The last few days have been all about demolition. We’re saying goodbye to the little ell on the back of the main house, soon to be replaced by a bigger, bolder ell that will rise three stories high. Out with the old, in with the structurally sound. Still, that small ell held so many memories: Christmas mornings with family crammed in, our little cocker spaniel’s favorite corner for toy-chewing and miniball-fetch, and even our epic binge of Jackson Lamb and his misfit agents in S low Horses —still one of my favorite TV moments. Watching it go was a reminder that remodeling isn’t just about walls and beams; it’s about tearing down pieces of yo...

Blodgett Landing wasn’t exactly designed for heavy machinery. The cottages here sit on tiny slivers of land that once held tents. Think adult dorm space, except you get your own front door and there are fewer keg parties.  Lakefront strip of cottages in Blodgett Landing Anticipation was sky-high when our builder rolled in today. Picture this: a huge truck pulling a trailer with an excavator creeping down a one-way road the size of a driveway. Cue the entrance of our unofficial “mayor” of Blodgett Landing. Captain Kara saved the day by offering her driveway so the crew could back the behemoth down between the houses. Without her, that excavator might still be stuck on Middle Street. This was also the moment hubby and I realized we’d been wildly optimistic about just how much space we had to work with. Spoiler: not much. At the southern back corner of our lot, we negotiated with our back neighbors for permission to cross a sliver of their land. The crew eased the excava...