Front Yard Porch Ottawa

Mid-sized arts and crafts front porch photo

Lydia

MidCentury Modern Design V44302 2-Step Foundation (Made with the Grid-Adjuster.) 3 bedrooms - 2.5 bathrooms - garage - huge yard - multiple deck/patios - pet friendly -

The floor plan comes from Vacation & Second Homes by Home Planners, 1991.

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Custom Content Included - My Fieldstone 1 Walls with Quinoing - My Invisible Floor - Mia86's Chimney-less Colonial Fireplace

Lot Size: 50X40 Lot Price: $114,355

DOWNLOAD @ SFS

Cross-posted to MTS.

Enjoy! 🦚

Aaron Fagin House

2088 Lindale Nicholsville Rd.

Amelia, OH 45102

The charming country home at 2088 Lindale-Nicholsville Road, Monroe Township, Clermont County, Ohio, known as the Aaron Fagin House or Hidden Hollow has a lengthy history starting in 1804 when an 18-year-old land speculator named Jesse Hunt bought a 1,000-acre tract in newly established Clermont County, Ohio. Cleared and improved land was a moneymaker, so Hunt first leased the land to a Clermont County man for five years. At the end of the lease term, in exchange for improvements to the land, the tenant received 110 acres and the rest reverted to Hunt. Additional settlers also made improvements to the land–for set amounts of time–allowing them to make money without the added cost of buying land while Hunt received a percentage of their profits. By the 1820s, Hunt began selling tracts of lands to other investors, and then eventually began to sell tracts of land less than 200 acres for four-to-six dollars per acre. A man named Aaron Fagin was one of these purchasers.

In August 1831, Fagin paid Hunt $1,100 for 191 acres. The same day of the purchase agreement, Hunt made a mortgage to Fagin for $715 to be repaid with interest over three years. The deed of mortgage was recorded in 1835, after the mortgage was already paid in full. Aaron Fagin was a prosperous farmer in Monroe Township, adding another 97 acres to his original 191 acres. In 1832, Aaron Fagin began building the charming home now known as Hidden Hollow and he and his wife, Minerva Fagin, lived at the house until their deaths in 1876.Over the years, the property was reduced to its current 41.85 acres, which includes the Fagin farmstead, several outbuildings, a cistern, a well, a 3/4-acre pond (previously stocked with bass), about 17 acres of woods, and 22 acres of tillable land. The small fieldstone springhouse on the property is contemporary with the house.

The original Federal Vernacular-style brick house–which actually has a very “cottage-ish” feel to it–was begun circa 1832. The front of the home has six irregular bays consisting of two doors and four windows, while the backside of the house has a one-room brick portion in the center flanked by 1940s-era wood-frame additions. The one-room brick portion is currently the dining room and is probably the oldest portion of the home. The three front rooms were likely added to the home shortly after the one-room brick portion. The brick walls are 12 inches thick, which is evident in the doorways to the 1940s additions. Under the dining room there was originally an earthen cellar with a fireplace. The cellar was finished with concrete in the 1940s. The roof is a standing-seam metal roof, painted dark green. Two chimneys flank the ends of the house and a third is centered in the back. Hidden Hollow lends itself easily to modern living as a very functional two-bedroom, two-full-bath residence.

A tranquil and picturesque setting tucked back off the road, at the end of a long driveway through a tall stand of pines, in a setting both landscaped and natural, Hidden Hollow has had its name since at least the 1940s, and maybe even longer. The doorway between the 1800s portion of the home to the 1940s addition shows off the thickness of the original walls. The original springhouse still stands. The Aaron Fagin home was added to the National Register of Historic Places on February 9, 2006. It is considered a distinctive example of an early-nineteenth century, rural vernacular dwelling with Federal style influences and is actually very rare at the local level (Clermont County). Although there are 1940s additions to the house, the original portions are very apparent while the integrity of their design and workmanship remain. Likewise, the property has retained its setting as a rural farmstead. It is a charming county home indeed.

Bungalow in Berkeley, California. Evident in the verticality and pointed ends of the wood siding in the front gable, and in the flat cutout forms used on the railings at the porch and upstairs windows, the influence of the Swiss Chalet style (sometimes called only “Chalet”) pervades this cheerful house... Random-size fieldstones, more roughly textured that river rock, are used for the prominent front chimney and porch piers.

The Bungalow: America’s Arts & Crafts Home, 1994

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icon by @ torisvega

General

Films 

Want To Watch

Photography

Themes

Fanart

Ted Lasso

-- Characters

Roy Kent

Ted Lasso

Jamie Tartt

Isaac McAdoo

Coach Beard

Rebecca Welton

Nathan Shelley

Keely Jones

Sam Obisanya

Trent Crimm

Colin Hughes

Nora

Dani Rojas

Sharon Fieldstone

Cast

Jason Sudeikis

Hannah Waddingham

Brett Goldstein

Juno Temple

Pairing

Roy x Keely

Rebbecca x Sam

New Amsterdam

-- Characters

Max

Lauren

Leyla

-- Shipping

Law & Order Svu

-- Characters

Benson

Rollins

Carisi

-- Shipping

Rollisi

Only Murders In The Building

-- Characters

Mabel Mora

Tim Kono

Oscar

Jan

Oliver Putnam

Charles-Haden Savage

-- Cast

Selena Gomez

Martin Short

Steve Martin

Home Eco

-- Characters

9/1/1

-- Characters

Buck

Eddie

Chimney

Shadow & Bone

Frasier

-- Characters

Daphne Moon

Niles

Martin

Parks & Rec

-- Characters

Leslie 

Misc

Peaky Blinders

Hocus Pocus

Practical Magic

Studio Ghibili

Anime

Midnight Mass

The Conjuring

Wandavision

MIB

Me Before You

The Departed

Coraline

The Aadams Family

Pride & Prejudice 

The Creative Process, or: How to write a novel.

“Find something you would like to create with. This can be with plasticine, papier mache, words, pipe cleaners and sequins, colored pencils, construction paper, popsicle sticks, or other media. -Sit down and fidget with your materials. Build a little hut out of words and popsicle sticks. Call it "Abraham Lincoln's Log Cabin, No Trademark Infringement Intended." -Put it on your desk and be proud. Feel refreshed. Show it to your friends. Six months later, notice it collecting dust. Think, huh, that could be better. -Take it apart. Put it together. Fix the roofline. Use some plasticine for stickum this time. Give it a styrofoam chimney. -Put it back on your desk. Six months later, add some pipe clearer smoke to the chimney, with the cool wooly pipe cleaners. Call it "Abraham Lincoln's Log Cabin V. 2.0, No Trademark Infringement Intended." Take the pipe cleaner smoke off again. Call it "Abraham Lincoln's Boyfriend's Log Cabin, No Trademark Infringement Intended." -Make bricks for the chimney out of sequins. Pin them on with straight pins. -Color the popsicle sticks in with magic marker. Decide you don't like it. Start over with fresh popsicle sticks. Call it "Not Your Daddy's Lincoln Log Cabin, No Trademark Infringement Intended." Decide you don't like that either. Make little pipe cleaner people and animals and put them around. Act out their soap-opera daily dramas. (Oh, Momma, Billy's in with the sheep again!) Call it: "When Laura Ingalls Wilder Went Down On The Farm, No Suggestion Of Libelous Intent Intended." -Try tempera paint this time. Hmm. Better. -Dab white glue on the chimney sequins with a q-tip because they are too shiny and don't look like real bricks. Color in the tempera-painted popsicle sticks with charcoal and chalk, to add shading and texture. Experiment with watercolor. -Collect spruce needles and pine cones. Start gluing the spruce needles around the base of the house as foundation plantings. Call it "My Farm In A Time Of Hard Drought, or: This Is Not The Tempest." Snicker about it when people ask. Notice a beetle infestation. Spray. Leave it outside until the smell comes off. Start shingling the roof with pine cone scales. -Realize they clash with the sequins. -Unpin the sequins. Replace them with glued-on dried navy, kidney, black, and pinto beans. Hey, it's a fieldstone fireplace. what? Make a ragged door out of piece of bark. Realize you do not know how to hang it. Lean it up against the side of the house. -Steal the brass knob off the top of the pepper mill for a doorknob. Whistle when your husband asks you if you've seen the little bit that goes on top of the pepper thing. Turn the house around to face the wall for a week or two. Finish shingling the back of the roof. Get some sphagnum moss and tiny silk roses, and go around under the eaves with it. -In the back. -Where nobody will ever see it. Defend this by saying it was how your grandmother said one should finish a quilt, even the bits on the inside. Well, she didn't say sphagnum moss, exactly. Take off all the pine cone scales are try again with a different species. Hmm. Maybe maple helicopters? Figure out that you can hinge the door with bent sewing pins and scraps of leather shoelace. It hangs crooked. Put a hook-and-eye latch on the other side to straighten it out. Call it, "My Side Of The Mountain With A Builder's Permit." -Spend about a day and a half fiddling with your Real! Working! Door!, making the little pipecleaner people go in and out. Borrow your brother's skillsaw. Cut windows. Realize the tempera and charcoal detailing looks faker than fake. -Glaze the windows with hand-split flakes of mica. Put tiny christmas lights around the edges of the windows so they glow from within. Forget to make a hole for the plug. -Borrow the skillsaw again. Go on vacation with your family. Spend the entire time sitting on the beach fiddling with sand and shells, thinking about patterns. Come back and add a driftwood tree, and a sea-glass walkway border. Try to figure out how to glue down sand so it doesn't look terrible. -Ask for a skillsaw for the holidays. Realize that if you use a THIRD species of pine cone for the roof, you can make siding out of maple helicopter shakes. Spend about five weeks painstakingly applying these by hand. -Realize the result looks like ass, but you finally got the roof right this time. -Take all the maple helicopters off again and use them to make furniture instead, with rose-hip chair cushions. -Realize that you could have just used spray adhesive. Suffer a crisis of faith. Berate yourself as a stupid failure. Play with the little people and the furniture until you calm down. Get some cat-tail stems. Split them painstakingly in half and cut them to size. Glue them over the popsicle sticks. Now, *that* looks like a cabin. And nobody will ever notice that bit in the back where the overlap is a little rough. -Tuck some sphagnum moss into it, just to be sure. -And a tiny silk rose. Realize it's done. -Look at it for a day or two, just to be sure. Set up all the pipe cleaner people, give them tiny little acorn cap hats and flowerstem walking sticks. Give one a pair of dragonfly wings and another one a feather. Realize that no, the feather goes on this one, instead. Call it "Midnight In The Garden Of The Fairy Hut." -The best pipe cleaner animal is always the pony. You don't know why; you just have a knack for ponies. -Love all the little pipe cleaner people and animals so much it's very hard to do what you have to do next. Realize that the pine cone scales, in the cold of winter, have wept tiny golden droplets of sap all over the roof, where they catch the light and smell of summer. Realize you never could have got that effect on purpose in a thousand patient years. -Stall. Make a tiny, tiny lashed ladder from birch twigs and bark. Run it up under the eaves to the attic window. Secure it with a drop of Krazy Glue. -Hey, it dries clear. Nobody will ever know. -Stall. Finally, on a bright cool day in early June, take the whole thing outside, set it on the patio, douse it in lighter fluid and set it on fire. But make it look like an electrical fire, not arson. -Take pictures before and after, and all the while it burns. -Go through and pick out the best ones. Be surprised by the color of the flames. Call it, "Ladder in the woods." Hang the pictures in a gallery. Try to look uninterested as you listen to people exclaim, "I really think she should have used sequins for the chimney!" and "Hey, there's a bit in the back here where the cat-tail stems are messed up" and "You know, the pony is much better than all the other animals," and "Oh! Look! A tiny silk rose!!!" -Love that last person with all your heart. Love them so much you have to leave the room for a moment to compose yourself. Think, I knew I put that rose there for someone. I just didn't know at the time that it was you. Looking at the pictures, realize you have figured out how to do a better job on the chimney after all. -And the next one is going to have a barn. And a second story. -And maybe a pub next door, God willing. Leave the pictures on the wall of the gallery. Walk away, thinking, "That doesn't look a thing like the house, really, but I still kind of like it." Endure a moment of intense melancholy while you think about the pony. When you go home, rake the cool ashes for the bits of sea glass and the knob to the pepper mill, and save them--cracked and discolored--in an opaque jar on the corner of your desk. When your husband wanders in and asks what smells like burning, sniff thoughtfully and pretend you don't notice a thing.”

-E. Bear

The War of the Rebellion: Georgia, 1865

Hell can be found in the strangest of places.

The cabin was small and tucked away off a long, narrow country road. From what I could see, the home was well kept and well cared for. Smoke rose from the fieldstone chimney, and there was a good supply of wood off to one side. A summer kitchen was set up to the left of the home, but unlike the rest of the property, it looked unused.

The windows on the building’s front were closed, as were the draperies, and the front door as well.

There was a fine breeze blowing, and Georgians, by and large, rarely kept their doors and windows closed on such an occasion. The smoke from the chimney confused me as well. It was too early for a mid-day meal and too late for breakfast.

I’d heard no rumors and word of any sort of beast operating in the area, no vanishing bodies or missing pickets. Still, stranger things had happened and were bound to happen again.

I approached the cabin with caution, the Spencer in my hands as I walked in the grass along the edge of the road. At less than thirty feet from the cabin, I heard a woman’s laughter, joined a moment later by a second, then a third. What followed next caused me to grit my teeth and move quicker.

I heard a man beg, in a voice near breaking, for them to leave him be.

A part of me hoped I was coming upon some reckless scene of young love, but I doubted it.

When I reached the door, I heard a long, low groan, and there was no pleasure associated with it.

I kicked the door in and shocked the inhabitants, three old women crouched over the emaciated form of a Federal soldier. The eyes of the women were wild, their gray and white hair lashing about their faces as they launched themselves at me. I killed two with shots from the Spencer, and I beat the third to death with the stock.

With her brains splashed across my face, I stepped over to the Federal, lay on his back, eyes wide and filled with tears.

“Three months,” he whispered. “They’ve been feeding on me for three months.”

I bashed in the brains of the other two as well.

Photo courtesy of the Library of Congress.

Your Holiday Mom: MamA-J

Oh yay !  You’re here !

I’m so glad you made it in time to see my dad perform the Christmas tradition I so adored when I was little, one kept believing in even after I found out Santa didn’t exist. He’s doing it for the little ones in the family tonight so that it will hopefully be perpetuated through times and generations ! Because, you know, it’s important to keep warm memories alive J

So let me explain…

When my brother and I were little, there was a fireplace in the living room. The winters are rough here but oh so beautiful with the snow.  You must keep warm and lighting up a fire in it was a good way to achieve that : not only does it warm up your home, it also warms your heart. Now, the fireplace we had wasn’t the massive type with a mantlepiece and a big chimney made of fieldstones running along the house. No, no. Ours was a wood burning stove: made of iron with a fairly small pipe for a chimney.

On Christmas Eve, my dad would ask us to help him set up the Elves’ Trap which consisted in an elaborate rope system (or so it seemed to us) that would keep the doors of the unlit stove slightly ajar. The idea was that when Santa’s Elves would climb back up in the « chimney » after putting the presents under our Christmas Tree, their socks woud get caught in the trap and that’s how we’d get our stockings full of surprises !

Now, you are right : it made NO sense whatsoever ! First, no Elf could fit down that pipe and second, well, neither could any gifts! But we went along with it because it was so silly, so much fun and so magical to wake up early on Christmas Day, certainly too early for our parents, run downstairs in our flannel pyjamas and wooly socks, rush to the living room, smell the sweet scent of fir coming from the Chrismas Tree we had picked up and find the presents below it and our stockings filled to the rim hanging from the tightly closed doors of the wood heater.

Since a picture is worth a million words, check out my face on this one! I must have been 7 years old on that.

So, come over here awesome you. Sit next to me, let’s sip some tea and check out my Dad teach the kids the « ropes » of making a good trap, watch their face light up and get all excited.

Oh. And here : don’t forget your stocking, lovely.

Happy Holidays dearest !

Always find a way to keep the magic alive in your heart, whenever and whatever goes.

You can do it. I believe in you xxxx

Your Holiday Mom: MamA-J was originally published on Your Holiday Mom

Snow Sparkles Like Stars: Chapter 4 - Sledding

I swear I post those teasers thinking it’ll be at least a day until I can post the chapter, but nope.  Usually ends up meaning same day, lol

I had a hard time with this chapter. Life stuff. So, I hope it's okay. Fluffy winter chores and fun

chapter 1, chapter 2, chapter 3

Getting his car out of the ditch ended up being much easier than Kylo thought.  Rey had told Kylo the basic commands for her dogs, so he was able to tell Thor and Sif what to do without them running off.  As Rey worked on unburying her driveway in her nearly tractor sized snow blower, Thor and Sif plowed a small trail towards the car for Kylo to follow.  Kylo quickly got his suitcase and leather messenger bag out of the trunk and followed the dogs back into the house.  He changed into a fresh set of clothes, making sure to throw on his thickest socks and the heaviest sweater he’d brought.  He went back outside, through the garage this time, and grabbed a shovel from a peg hanging on the wall.  He paused to look at the dog sled.  It was a handsome piece of woodwork, a six foot toboggan style sled made of white ash with rubber grips on the runners.  There was a small seat for a passenger, and a mess of nylon cords and metal clips and hooks sat in the basket.  Kylo hurried out to work on digging the car out while Rey finished the driveway.  

No road crews had been by, and the road remained buried and invisible beneath the deep snow.  Kylo still had no idea how he’d gotten this far off the highway.  Rey’s home appeared relatively isolated.  Kylo could see evidence of civilization way off in the distance, but otherwise it was mostly trees and open fields.  He paused to admire the beauty of it.  The huge swaths of undisturbed white, the grey-green of the tall pines, the loud rumble of the snow blower as it threw huge plumes of fluffy white were so different from the winter sights he was used to in Boston.  Rey’s house too was something very different.  It was indeed an A-frame design, almost a perfect isosceles triangle.  Like the interior, the parts of the front exterior Kylo could see were a warm wood.  The roof was covered with a generous heap of snow, broken only by the proud fieldstone chimney.  Two ravens could be seen perched on the edge of the dark stone.

Kylo was studying the ravens intently and hadn’t realized Rey had finished until he felt her mittened hand on his shoulder.

“Kylo?  You okay?” Rey asked concerned, her voice muffled by her thick scarf.

“Yeah,” he replied distractedly.  He gave himself a shake.  “Yeah.  Just wondering if those were the same birds as this morning.”

Rey looked up at the chimney just as the two birds took off for parts unknown.  “Hmm, I guess I never really thought about it.  Now that you mention it, I wonder if you’re right.  Two ravens always seem to visit every few days.  Odin likes watching them, and they don’t really make a mess or anything, so I never thought about it too much.  It could be the same pair.”

Kylo watched the birds get smaller and smaller against the bright sky.  “Huginn and Muninn,” he murmured quietly.

“What?”

“Those are the names of Odin’s ravens in Norse mythology.  They fly over all of Midgard and bring Odin news.”

Rey turned her eyes skyward and watched the ravens with Kylo.  Soon enough, they were gone from sight, and the pair headed towards the garage.

“Help me push the sled out and next to the garage.  Then we’ll hook your car up to the hitch of my truck and pull it out,” Rey commanded.

Kylo could see why she was a good dog trainer.  Her voice was firm, but gentle and kind.  He had a hard time imagining anyone saying no to it.  He helped her push and maneuver the sled before heading to his car to wait for Rey.  It took maybe twenty minutes, but with the car in neutral and Kylo pushing, they managed to get it out of the ditch and in the garage, safe and sound.

“I need to change into my mushing gear and hook the dogs up, then we can head out,” Rey said excitedly as she made her way back into the house.  Kylo followed her, wanting to warm up a bit.  Before she went off to change, Rey rummaged around in a bin and handed him a fleece hat, thick waterproof gloves, a scarf, and a pair of goggles.

“Sorry I don’t have a coat you can borrow,” Rey said apologetically.

“What’s wrong with this one?”  Kylo asked, gesturing to his long black wool coat.

Rey smiled in an almost pitying way.  “You’re going to be very cold by the time we get back,” Rey predicted.  She sauntered away.  

Not if you warm me up.  He smirked devilishly at his own quip as he watched her go.

He waited in relative silence for a few minutes, enjoying the warmth of the laundry room and the hum of the heater.  He was just starting to nod off when the sound of thirty-two paws hitting the hardwood floor erupted around him.  Cold noses and furry bodies crashed into him within seconds, and Kylo found it hard to stay on his feet.  

“Sit!  Sit! Sit!” Rey shouted.

If Kylo had been drinking something, he might have done a spit take.  Logically, he knew why she was wearing what she was.  Winter outerwear tended to be bulky, made even more so if one wore normal clothes underneath, and bulk was typically not helpful in circumstances when one needed to be agile.  However, the logical side of his mind was currently being shorted out at the sight of Rey clad in what looked like a scuba suit, but for winter.  The thermal black leggings and top she was wearing clung to her slim form, her gentle curves on full display.  She’d pulled her hair back into a high ponytail, and that combined with the high collar of her top accentuated the length and curve of her neck.  Kylo bit down on his tongue, fighting the urge to bite down on something else.

Rey tugged on a pair of slim fitted snow pants, the style reminiscent of the kind snowboarders wore.  Her boots went on next, then her coat.  She slipped a headband over her ears and placed a pair of goggles around her neck.  She shoved a pair of gloves into her pocket and turned to Kylo.

“Ready?” she asked, her face lit with excitement.

Kylo nodded, breathless.  Rey threw open the door and the dogs raced out, bounding towards the sled and circling excitedly.

“Line out!” Rey called in her commanding voice.  The dogs stilled and obeyed immediately, each one taking position.  Odin was in front, Frigga and Thor directly behind.  Mjolnir and Sif were directly in front of the sled with Loki and Freya in the middle.  Heimdall sat patiently beside the sled basket.  Kylo approached slowly, already in awe.  Rey closed the door shut with a snap, a heavy looking Hudson Bay blanket in her arms, which she handed to Kylo.

“That’s for you,” she said with a smile.

“Heimdall doesn’t run?”

“He does sometimes, but not usually.  Today he’s going to keep you company,” Rey replied as she worked to get the rigging set up.

“Do you need help?” Kylo offered.

Rey laughed, not unkindly.  “Thank you, but no.  Honestly it’ll be faster and safer if I do this myself.  No offense.”

“None taken.  Just thought I’d ask.  That way I won’t feel guilty about not helping,” he teased.

Rey laughed brightly, making Kylo’s insides feel warm.

She had the dogs hooked up in a matter of minutes, and she went around to each one, tugging their harness and checking that their tug lines were secured to the tow line, explaining everything patiently to Kylo as she went along.  He learned that Odin was the lead dog, Thor and Frigga were the swing dogs, Mjolnir (MewMew as Rey called him) and Sif were the wheel dogs, and Loki and Freya were team dogs.  If Heimdall was acting as a team dog, Thor and Odin were leads.  Rey tapped Heimdall twice between his shoulder blades, and he hopped deftly into the basket.  

“You sit in the seat,” Rey said as she took her position on the runners.

Kylo climbed into the sled gingerly and sat as she had commanded, draping the heavy blanket over his lap.  Heimdall sat down on Kylo’s feet, staring straight ahead.  Kylo wondered if Heimdall had a kind of sight.  He held onto the sides of the seat as Rey grasped the bar behind him, her hold wide.  He felt her shift her weight from foot to foot, testing her balance.  She took a deep breath and whispered, “Goggles.”

Kylo pulled down his goggles, looking back at Rey.  Her expression was focused, and she took another deep breath.

“Mush!” she cried.

Kylo let out an involuntary yelp as he felt the sled take off.  Rey laughed behind him and patted his shoulder reassuringly.  He could still hear the jangle of the rigging over the wind in his ears, and his nose was filled with the scents of snow and winter.  He watched in amazement as the seven dogs worked in unison, and it was clear there was an almost telepathic bond between them and Rey.  It was exhilarating.  Every so often, Rey would cry out “Gee!” or “Haw!” and the dogs would go right or left.  She and the dogs seemed to know exactly where they were going, and she didn’t have to shout too much.  They travelled for Kylo had no idea how long, mostly following the road, but not on it as it was in a sorry state.  Eventually a pale yellow farmhouse came into view, surrounded by neat rows of different kinds of pine trees.  Some were little saplings, some were large behemoths.  Most were of a middling size for patrons to cut themselves.  A nice selection was leaned up against a bit of fencing already cut and waiting.  Several handmade wreaths were hung out as well.  A small shack was set up near the tree baler where customers could pay and get a cup of cocoa if they wanted.  Kylo could make out a couple of figures waving at them as Rey came up the drive to the shack.  

“Whoa!” she called to the dogs as she applied increasing pressure to the break bar.  They slowed to a complete halt, their tongues lolling out happily.  Kylo didn’t realize dogs could smile.

“Hiya, Rey!” a cheerful male voice called.

“Hi, Finn!  Hi, Rose!” Rey replied as she staked the sled.  Strands of her hair had come loose during the ride, and her cheeks had been bitten bright red by the cold.  All the dogs sat, ready and waiting.  A young man and woman approached as Rey greeted them.

“Oooo can I give the dogs some bones?” the young woman asked.  She was dressed snuggly, the ends of her dark hair flipping out of the bottom of her hat.

“Sure, Rose” Rey said.  Rose ran quickly to the shed and dug around for something, emerging with a box of dog bones.  She handed one to each dog, giving them all a pat on the head as she did so.

“Here to get your tree?” Finn asked, reaching for a handsaw.

“Yup!”

“Care to introduce us?” Rose asked teasingly as she stared up at Kylo.  He smiled politely nodding to the both of them.

“Oh sure!  This is Kylo.  He got stranded at my house in the storm.  He’s a professor at Harvard.”

Rose approached Rey and whispered something to her.  Whatever it was made Rey blush an even deeper red and cough exaggeratedly.  She nudged Rose with her elbow.  Kylo saw Finn roll his eyes lovingly at the pair as he looked at Kylo.

“You guys gonna cut your own, or you want one of the ones we’ve already got here?” Finn asked Kylo.

“Umm, Rey?”

Rey was crouching with her dogs, petting each one gently and whispering quietly.  She hadn’t heard him or Finn.  Kylo felt a smile touch his lips as he watched her.

Finn stepped up next to Kylo.  “Amazing, isn’t it?  It never ceases to amaze me, watching Rey with her pack.”

“How long have you known her?”

“Since she moved here a few years back.  Rose n’ me had just set up shop and ran into her in town.  She’s...really something special.”

Kylo hummed in acknowledgment and agreement.

Finn eyed Kylo surreptitiously up and down.  “You know, Rey’s favorite part about Christmas trees is the decorating.  I’ve got a nice Douglas Fir already cut.  Some guy wanted it, then never showed.  She’ll probably have you hold it on the way back.  After I bale it, I can wrap it in some canvas to make it easier for you.”

“Uhh, thanks.  That’d be great.  That okay with you, Rey?”

Rey looked up at him from her position in the snow next to Heimdall.  “Huh?”

“Finn’s gonna get us a tree to go,” Kylo joked.  Man, that was weak.

Rey laughed good naturedly anyway.  “Sounds good.  I want to get going again before the dogs settle in too much, anyway.”

Finn and Rose were already at the baler, setting the tree on the belt.  There was a loud roar, and before Kylo knew it, the poofy tree looked like a closed umbrella wrapped in plastic twine.  Finn tugged out a bit of brown canvas from the shack and wrapped the tree up, tying the giant tree umbrella with twine.  Heaving the parcel against his shoulder, he slogged to the sled and waited for Kylo, Rey, and the dogs to get ready.  Kylo reached into his pocket and pulled out a few tens and a twenty and handed them to Rose.

“Hey! What do you think you’re doing?!” Rey protested as Rose took the folded cash.

Kylo gave Rey a stern look.  It was one he sometimes used on his students to prevent further argument.  To his satisfaction, Rey’s cheeks grew a brighter shade of red, again, and her expression changed from one of protest to one of demure obeisance.  Oh.  Fuck, that’s hot.  Not now, goddammit!

“Think of it as my way of saying thank you for helping me out,” Kylo said softly.

Rey bit her lower lip and nodded.  She returned to the dogs, making sure everyone was hitched up properly.

Neither of them saw Finn and Rose waggle their eyebrows at each other as they hid their smirks behind their thick gloves.

Should I buy a rotary hammer?

Over the next ~5 years I need to

a) remove a bunch of mortar from my fieldstone foundation (all loose around entire perimeter over the next few years), and

b) remove a bunch of tile and

c) break up some concrete (it’s to just just drill to weaken then sledge hammer it; maybe id rent a jack hammer for this)

And d) demo a fieldstone chimney in my yard

Im thinking the Dewalt XR rotary hammer would be ideal for helping in all these tasks but it just seems like overkill for all but the last.

If I do get a rotary hammer, should I go corded or cordless? My cordless stuff is Dewalt xr 20v.

submitted by /u/jillanco [link] [comments] from The Hivemind Improving Homes https://ift.tt/30K1BmR

Kayaking the Rouge River and Toronto's harbour and islands: A photo essay

I got a kayak for my 50th birthday a couple of years ago — a red, 14-foot Perception Carolina, in case you’re interested in the specifics, with two dry wells — and I’ve been paddling a lot around our cottage north of Toronto, but I hadn’t brought it down to the city before until this fall. I thought I would bring it and see if there was enough to do with it to make it worthwhile, especially since we live near where the Rouge River feeds into Lake Ontario.

I’ve biked down the lake-front trail near our house to the mouth of the Rouge many times, and across the bridge into Pickering and along the bluffs out to Frenchman’s Bay, and I would often see kayaks and canoes coming down the river, and wonder where they had been. So one day I strapped the kayak to our old car and headed over to the Rouge.

It was a beautiful sunny day, and I paddled around the marshes at the mouth of the river for a bit and saw some swans and Canada geese, some blue herons and some white egrets, and then I headed up-river. Unfortunately, I had chosen to go just a couple of days after a big rainstorm, and the river was running quite hard — I was fighting the current the whole way, and after about 45 minutes of hard paddling I could go no further. The ride back to the mouth of the river took me about 15 minutes.

The next time I went, it hadn’t rained for a week or so, and the river was about three feet lower at least — I could see the muddy water-line on the trees and bushes along the bank. Since I didn’t know how fast it would be going, I decided to put the kayak in at Glen Rouge campground, which is just north of Highway 401, off Kingston Road.

I carried it down to the water and dropped it in, and it was an easy paddle of 30 minutes or so down to the mouth of the river — so easy that after I got there, I decided to paddle all the way back up again. I saw more herons and egrets, and even saw a deer at one point in the woods. The most amazing part was that as soon as I got out of sight of the highway, I felt like I was out in the woods in the middle of nowhere. The banks of the ravine were so high I only saw one or two houses.

At one point, I saw a ruined old chimney and fireplace standing right near the bank, made of fieldstone and probably close to a hundred years old — whatever building it used to heat was large and two stories at least. I read that around the turn of the century, someone had tried to sell lots near the river to wealthy settlers, but didn’t sell many and eventually the land was taken over by the province (See update below for more info on this that I found out later).

Next to the chimney there was a sort of structure made of sticks tied together at the corners, with industrial-size plastic wrapping for walls and a ceiling. I got out to take a look, since the owner didn’t seem to be around, and inside was a cot and some boxes. Outside was a pot hanging from a tripod of sticks over a fire — and hanging from a wire near the chimney (which was tied to the structure) was a small crossbow. Obviously someone was living there, but I left before they returned.

I’ve been back a few times since, and the river is such a peaceful spot. And once when it was calm, I paddled out into Lake Ontario itself and followed the shore all the way out to Frenchman’s Bay and back again.

Since the weather was so beautiful in September, a friend who kayaks with a group out of Harbourfront in downtown Toronto asked me if I wanted to come for a sunset paddle with some of the group — and of course I said yes. We took the boats out into the harbour and across to the Toronto Islands, which I hadn’t been to since I was in my 20s. We paddled into the inland waterway that runs through and around the islands (there are about a dozen of them) and then back across the harbour just as the sun was setting.

It was such a great trip that when my friend asked me if I wanted to go for a longer paddle the next day, I said of course. I showed up at 10 a.m. and we left in a group of 15 or so, and paddled west along the shore through the Western Gap near the island airport, then turned north and paddled into the old Ontario Place grounds, and followed the waterway in and around some of the old buildings like the Cinesphere (where they used to show the first IMAX movies) and back out to the harbour.

After paddling back into the harbour, we went across to Ward’s Island, one of the largest of the islands, and pulled our boats up on the beach and headed inland to a small cafe there for a sandwich and some coffee. It was a beautiful spot — and then it was back into the boats and out around the eastern end of the island.

We paddled up the entire length of the Leslie Spit — a man-made promontory that sticks out into the lake near the end of the Don Valley Parkway — and turned around when we got to the lighthouse at the end. Everyone with a sailboat or any other kind of boat seemed to be out on the lake, which isn’t surprising since the weather was so gorgeous.

Then we came back down the side of the island and into the inland waterway again, and paddled in and around all of the islands, watching people sitting on their sailboats at the marina, or walking and biking around the laneways on the island. After seeing some swans near the island amusement park, we paddled back out the mouth of the inland waterway and across the harbour back to the boat-rental place. We were out for almost seven hours, and probably paddled about 25 kilometres or so.

All in all, it was a pretty amazing September for kayaking, and I’m glad I brought my boat down to the city — I’ve seen far more of Toronto’s rivers and lakes and islands than I ever knew existed.

Update: Years after I originally wrote this, I did a bit more research and found out where the chimney I saw came from, and also why the mouth of the Rouge River has so many little channels and dead-ends to it, unlike most river mouths. As Larry Noonan described in this piece, it turns out that an eccentric entrepreneur named Cecil White had a dream around the turn of the century that he called “Venice of the North,” which involved creating a paradise of beaches and estate homes along the Rouge River, complete with a Venice-style canal system and a small artificial lake.

White bought 700 acres or so, hired architects and started work, and he financed the project by building and selling homes along the river. At one point, according to a number of reports, there was a hotel on the side of the river called the Cowan Hotel, and the chimney is all that remains of it. White excavated the start of some canals and channels at the mouth of the river, and then came the stock market crash and the Great Depression, and the project stopped. He eventually raised some money and started it up again, but then the Second World War put a stop to development.

White got one more try when Highway 401 was built, which increased demand for homes near the Rouge River, but then he passed away. His wife continued the project, until Hurricane Hazel hit in 1954, and water levels in the valley rose so high they swept parts of the buildings and plenty of other material downstream, where it piled up against the bridge across the mouth of the Rouge. Eventually the bridge collapsed and all of construction materials and White’s dreams of a Venice of the North were swept out into Lake Ontario. The land near the river was expropriated by the province so that no one else could build there and now it’s part of Rouge Valley park.

Kayaking the Rouge River and Toronto’s harbour and islands: A photo essay was originally published on mathewingram.com/work

John Vaughan House

3756 Hamilton-New London Rd.

Shandon, OH

John Vaughan House, also known as the Vaughan-Francis House, is a historic house in Morgan Township, Butler County, near Shandon, Ohio. The John Vaughan House was the first brick building in the Shandon area. Vaughan, a Welsh immigrant, built the house from 1814 to 1816, having made the first payment for the land the house occupies on November 8, 1801. This was the east half of section 25, Morgan Township, Butler County, Ohio. Vaughan and his wife Mary Jones come to Butler County with a group of Welsh settlers that year shortly after another group settled at Colerain Township. The family first built and lived in a log house on the property. To build the present structure a kiln was built and bricks were fired on the premises by James Shaw of Washington County who was brickyard foreman and superintendent of the mortar making. The brick for many of the homes built in the area were supplied by this brickyard and Vaughan's house served as a model for their construction. Vaughan had a hospitable reputation and paid for the passage of many of his fellow Welshmen who settled in the area. He sheltered twenty of them, who had not yet built their own homes, in his house in the winter of 1818–1819. The town church met in Vaughan's barn until a facility was built on land he donated most of. John Vaughan's son William was the first postmaster for Paddy's Run (later Shandon) and from 1831 to 1847 the house served as the Post Office

The two and a half story brick building is an example of Federal architecture. A fieldstone foundation is covered with concrete on the south side, the main facade. This exposure has five bays with a slightly off center (westerly) entry. Above the door is a three light transom and the windows have gauged brick sills and lintels. On the first floor facade two three over three double hung sash flank the doorway on each side and smaller similar windows are on the second floor above each and the door. A corbeled cornice sits below brick laid on edge giving a saw tooth look. The east and west sides of the building each have interior chimneys rising above the center of the peak of the gables. East and west exposures have little fenestration. The east side has the initials JV centered in the gable wall. A one-story addition on the rear (north) side was added in the Twentieth Century. A screened porch joins the north of this addition to the original smokehouse. Original walnut woodwork remaining on the interior include window sills and reveals, the main stairway and wall paneling. It was listed in the National Register of Historic Places on May 29, 1977.

Chateau Isle De France$3,297,000. 9 Graenest Ridge Road, Wilton, CT 06897 Bienvenue à la maison/Welcome home! Welcome to Chateau Isle De France! Renovated, rebuilt and restored to perfection in 2004. The distinctive allure of a French provincial home updated and refined with classic proportions and luxury details that stand the test of time. This romantic old world-style stately manor captures your heart as you enter the property’s long, artfully sweeping driveway. The breathtaking exterior transports you without a passport, thanks to its rooflines, hand-split stone chimneys, cedar roof, charming windows and wide-planked country style shutters. This impeccable and architecturally significant design was meticulously planned around four beautifully landscaped areas and punctuated by majestic trees. Altogether feels private and secluded while actually an easy walk to the Wilton Village and train station. You can have it all! This multi-generational estate offers a legacy of style and grace throughout that is both livable and lovable to call your own. A distinctly casual luxury lifestyle embraced with perfectly appointed rooms. The living spaces include a home office, paneled library, vaulted ceiling family room, mudroom, breakfast room, butlers pantry, formal living room, and playroom with nearby bath, to name a few. The latter is adjacent to a truly professional kitchen that exudes warmth and serenity while inspiring the gourmet in you. A first floor guest suite gives privacy and convenience, and will be adored by those lucky enough invited for such a wonderful retreat. Finish your tour in the finished lower level basement with 8-foot ceilings; featuring an exercise room, wine cellar and massive stone fieldstone fireplace, all relevant and cherished in a lovely family home. Here’s your chance to celebrate the past with luxuries and timeless amenities for decades to come. You are home today, yesterday and tomorrow. #forsale #openhouse #wiltonct #martv #lifeonmars #marjennings #marjenningsrealestateathigginsgroupprivatebrokerage (at Wilton, Connecticut) https://www.instagram.com/p/CGxPr2phAtj/?igshid=fo5jr8aafxy2

Rivers In The Desert

“Behold, I will do something new, now it shall spring forth. …I will even make a roadway in the wilderness, Rivers in the desert.” Isa 43:19NASB

Lou and I were driving through rural Pennsylvania, on a former bustling US highway. As we drove, we happened upon an almost ghost town, reminiscent of the cartoon movie Car’s Radiator Springs. Nestled in the center of this once thriving town sat a ramshackle hotel, with caving roof and porches, succumbing to time and nature. Restoration impossible, rather needing razed by a bulldozer.

Several beautiful old homes with three to five chimneys each were there. One was abandoned, with stucco falling off the old field stone walls. It’s previous grandeur was glimpsed in the surrounding grounds, with overgrown gardens, gazebo, and carriage house. Such a house begged for restoration.

Our lives are like these old homes. We’ve lived, seeing the good, bad and ugly. Sin overwhelmed us, see Rom 3:23. We succumbed to the decadent downward spiral. For some, life progressed to the point of the hotel. Almost dead from rebellion and wanton ways, breathing death rattles, tangled hopelessly with addictions.

Others lives resemble the once glorious stone home, now unoccupied with crumbling facade. Not beyond help, but succumbing and sliding down a downward spiral.

Then there are the gorgeous older homes, still well maintained not showing age and decay. Maintenance is costly. As long as you can pay the price.

Old houses may never make it through the sands of time. Spiritually speaking,  there are no lost causes, beyond God’s reach. His penchant is for old lives to renew, rebuild, restore. His love goes into the darkest hearts making everything return to the intended glory.

Years ago, we had two friends, who were alcoholics. Neither listened when we shared Jesus. One didn’t want to bother Jesus with any of his life, saying ‘Jesus had already been through enough.’ The other didn’t talk spirituality. His heart appeared to be a closed door.

Mark had a near death experience. ‘The stucco was falling off of his fieldstone walls.’ He began attending AA meetings. Then he began talking about Jesus. Before meals he openly prayed. “Therefore if any man be in Christ, he is a new creature: old things are passed away; behold, all things are become new,” 2Cor 5:17KJV. Health returned to Mark giving him seven years, before joining his Savior.

Joe was like the abandoned hotel— falling apart. Calling us for help because of visits from deceased family members and demons harassing him. Hallucinations were his norm, when we moved away. He still didn’t need Jesus, but gladly received prayer to get the ‘devils’ out of his house.

God allowed the bulldozer— lung and pancreatic cancer— to raze Joe’s body. Living alone, he needed help with no one to help. During this time, he turned to Jesus. We visited him a month before his death. His dying testimony was, “Jesus shaves with me, holds me so I can sleep, supports me when I walk. Jesus is all I have.” Cancer razed his body, but made a spiritual roadway for Joe to have “rivers in the desert,” as he went to heaven.

Millions, like myself, learned only God can make “rivers in the desert.” The high maintenance lifestyle has been exchanged for the peacefulness of the river of God’s unending love.

Have you found “the peace of God, which transcends all understanding,” to “to guard your hearts and your minds in Christ Jesus,” Ph 4:17NIV, He’s waiting for you to ask— ‘Jesus I believe You’re God’s Son. Please forgive my sins and become my Lord. I surrender myself to You to be remade.’ Things will become new from here out. Choose while you have time. It’s your choice. You choose.

PRAYER: Lord, our lives are in need the Living God who is able to restore, rebuild, and repurpose us. Will You be our God and change us inside out, in Jesus name we pray.

by Debbie Veilleux Copyright 2018 You have my permission to reblog this devotional for others. Please keep my name with this devotional as author. Thank you.

Old Home Place 1985 von anoldent Über Flickr: The summer after I finished school I set off into the mountains of North Carolina to build a log cabin, armed with a few books, and hand tools, but no experiance or skills. I set up my tent and expected it to take six weeks to build. Six months later I still hadn't finished the chimney or started the roof. But this is what it looked like on a misty November morning a few years later. I lived here for about eight years, and owned it for about fifteen years after I built it in 1976 with local fieldstone and oak logs I cut, peeled and notched on the site, working alone with hand tools. It had no plumbing, I carried water from a nearby spring, and I heated it in winter with about half a cord of wood a week which I cut and burned in the open fireplace. Eventually I moved into Asheville and had to sell it, but it was a large part of my life, and I miss it more with each passing year.

Blaze Makoid Architecture has recently completed a modern house in Teton Village, Wyoming, for an active family of five who love the outdoors.

The house has a cedar shingle, gabled roof with eaves that extend to protect the reclaimed barn wood siding from the elements. A ribbon of rustic local fieldstone runs the perimeter of the project’s base and also clads the chimneys and feature walls.

(via A House For A Family In Wyoming That Love The Outdoors)