HARVARD CARRIAGE SHED

 PHASE TWO

Once the siding and south addition were removed, we started the rafter and ridgepole removal. As we progressed, we selectively stripped the building of its sheathing. We did this in phases, as the wide sheathing boards were partially responsible for the building's structural integrity. So many post bases and plate ends were rotted or missing that we had to add bracing in a few places; more was added to the rafters themselves.

The ridgepole had some damage near the south end, so we sandwiched the deteriorated area with 2x6.

As rafters were removed, we laid them over the front plates; this allowed for a place to put the 40-foot ridgepole so we could adjust the straps.

                                                   Lowering the ridgepole to the ground

Loft floor with raised ceiling under the hogshead barrel. The hogshead had a family of mice we gently displaced and kept doing so until there were no more places for them to go. They eventually leapt from the ceiling to the workroom floor and finally hightailed it to the brush on the last day of demo.

 

Looking north

 

Half of the flooring and floor joists removed before one of two rain days

 

 

                          Beginning to remove the frame for real; first plate to the ground

                          Removing a stubborn hurricane brace by pounding out the trunnel

                                           More trunnel pounding. Some had to be drilled.

Removing the last piece of sheathing. My t-shirt reads "Without Struggle The is No Progress." How true.

 

                                Last wall standing. The plate is sandwiched at a rotted area.

                                            Dan and I wrestling timbers onto the lull.

Nothing left but the piles of lumber to be banded. Note the plywood to the right of the piles. It covers the partially-removed workroom floor.

The last bit of demolition gave us another hidden extra as exciting as the 'slaughter table' we found the second week. We had removed one layer of the three (!!!?) that composed the workroom floor, and had seen the end of a very thick chestnut timber holding up the flooring as an improvised joist. As Ken removed the last layers, he hollered at me.

"You're not gonna believe this!" he called. I looked and saw a round hole in the 20" x 20" timber being revealed.

"It's got a hole!" I said. "Wonder what it was for?"

"Like I said, you're not gonna believe it!"

When he pulled the last boards off, he revealed not one but three holes.

And two of them were threaded.

It was a frame for a large press, likely for cider. The remaining 'joists' were other members of the press, and though it was incomplete, it was pretty impressive.

               Though chestnut is a comparatively light wood, it took the lull to lift the headframe.

We brought it back and I hope we'll eventually make some of the missing pieces, but who knows? It may be milled into a mantle somewhere. Hopefully the threaded holes will be prominently displayed.

      Banding the sheathing, flooring, roofers, and timbers in preparation for transport to Rhode Island.

40-foot flatbed partially loaded; note the railroad ties as dunnage. The lull's ability to tilt its forks gave out the second to the last day, so we needed tall dunnage and strong backs.

 

 

Guiding the forks

 

Loading the ridgepole; it rode between the stacks in the middle of the trailer

 

Spider Jim examining the load as it is stacked

 

Preparing to finish stacking the load, though last time it was loading the stacks.

 

Last to be loaded; a ton of slate

 

Thanks God for the lull! Note the straps are being used to lift the slate, even though it's on a pallet. The lull's forks would not tilt.

 

Fully loaded; note the cider press pieces in the center of the stacks.

 

Not too high

 

Nor too wide

 

After three weeks, only the dumpster remains

SHOP NOTES

CARRIAGE SHED

HARVARD MASSACHUSETTS

 

If you are an attentive reader, you’ll undoubtedly remember that the company for which I work (Early New England Restorations) has been hired to deconstruct a circa-1800-to-1810 carriage/wagon shed in Harvard, Massachusetts, and bring it down to Westerly, Rhode Island (specifically Avondale, which some in Stonington, Connecticut jokingly refer to ‘a-VON-da-lay) to be reconstructed there.

Damn, that was a long sentence.

Well, we started the project last week. There was a bit of poli-tickling to do beforehand (it IS Mass, after all), and now the snow is off the ground, the blackflies and yellowjackets are buzzing, and the Project has begun. I’ll be trying to add daily posts to keep you all informed. But it is VERY physically demanding, and my time in the hotel is often cut short by    my  *yaaawn*   dozing      offffff

….zzzzzzzzzzzzzzzghghggg! snurk snurk……

…..zzzzzzzzzzz…..

                                         Shed in winter; note the height of the plowed snow

Shed in spring; note the removed addition and the only other difference is a scattering of day lilies sprouting under the mailbox frame. We hope leaves on trees will soon follow, but we doubt it after this winter

 

  More very cool pics to follow!

GRAFFITTI

SOAPSTONE MOUNTAIN OBSERVATION DECK

SOMERS CT

 

Being the unabashed rockhound that I am, I got quite excited when I found the location for Soapstone Mountain on my way from the airport at Windor Locks, CT to Norwich last June.

At 1075 feet above sea level, it’s not exactly Everest, but it does rise rather precipitously from the lowlands below.

Soapstone, also called steatite, is a talc-rich mineral that can be carved into many items, both useful and ornamental. I found the mountain’s location on the DeLorme Atlas of Connecticut and Rhode Island, and it took some doing, but after several false starts, I climbed the mountain’s twisty road to a collection of towers at the crest of the mountain. I never found the soapstone deposit (I didn’t look very hard; I was more interested in getting to Norwich), but I did find the tower (a Doppler Weather Radar installation), a great view towards the north, and some interesting graffiti.

 

I like to think that the bare trees and patches if ice surrounding my farm will soon turn as green and warm as on the day I took the pictures.

The city in the distance is likely Springfield Massachusetts.

CARRIAGE HOUSE

HARVARD MASSACHUSETTS

 

This is likely more than a carriage house; it probably sheltered a number of working farm vehicles, as it belonged to a…working farm.

This is the farmhouse.

                                                          Rear with Attached Kitchen

 

                                           Magnificent Front with Bays and Porticos

 

And this is the barn.

 

They really knew how to build barns back then, didn’t they?

But I digress, and after a plate of asparagus, that sometimes smells pretty bad.

Back inna goodle days, nails were expensive and often hard to come by. And if you wanted a piece of wood of a specific size, you made it yourself.

This circa 1800 carriage house in Harvard, Massachusetts (a small town north of Worcester, not the University in Cambridge) is about to be deconstructed by yours truly and accompanying Crew from Early New England Restorations. Once in pieces, we will bring the building down to Rhode Island where it will be reassembled in Avondale, next door to Watch Hill. The collapsing end is an addition and likely will not be rebuilt, but who knows?

Not I.

The land around the site will get developed, so it either gets moved or destroyed.

The timbers are hand hewn and squared using a broadaxe, which has a curved handle and a wide, curved blade. This tool is wielded from atop the log, and the curved handle allowed for even strokes without gouging the wood or cutting off one’s toes, which I’ve heard is a good thing both ways. It also leaves specific marks in the wood, some of which can be seen here.

 

 

After the timbers are hewn into shape, their ends are cut into tenons (they’re narrower than the timber and stick out) and mortises (holes to accept that which sticks out [oh my!]), then the two are drilled with a round hole and pinned together with tapered pieces of wood. These pieces are deliberately hand-whittled to give their surface many small angles that dig into the round walls of the drilled hole. It’s the square peg in a round hole philosophy; works pretty well in Colonial architecture and has been the mainstay of shipbuilding for eons. The pins are nearly impossible to remove and they hold the joint fast. I’ll give some examples of this when we do the job in the next few weeks.

 

 

These whittled pieces of wood, by the way, are known as ‘trunnels.’ ‘Trunnel’ comes from a shortened version of the term ‘tree-nail,’ and that is named for obvious reasons. I like the word trunnel. It seems so permanent. I just can’t pin down its origin, sorry for the pun. What pun? It seems Anglo-Saxon but my sources are unclear on the matter.

I just like the scallops in the wood. Knowing they were put there two hundred years ago by someone that just needed to do so, not by some sort of ‘expert,’ makes me even gladder.

 

 

Because we all were experts in those days. We were just working the land for a living.

And a hard living it was. But it gave us something we can only copy today.

Because who today could come up with a term like ‘trunnel?’

SHOP NOTES

 

Both of my readers should know (and so would you, if you bothered to read my profile, though my two readers already know what I do for a living so I don’t know who I’m addressing this to, really, so never mind), my gig is historic restoration. Since my move from Arkysaw to Connetykit, I’ve been employed by a company known under dual names, Early New England Restorations and Deschenes and Cooper Architectural Millwork.

I’ve had perty much just one task to perform since coming up here; that of taking huge antique pine timbers, grading them, cutting their ends off to see the grain within, denailing them, and working with a crew to slice them into    1½” thick slabs. These eventually get milled into some of the finest antique heart pine flooring and trim elements the world has ever seen.

For those of you unfamiliar with the term ‘heart pine,’ I shall explain.

Southern yellow pine comes from several species, ranging from shortleaf, loblolly, pitch, and longleaf pine. There are others as well, but we will keep our conversation to shortleaf and longleaf.

Mostly available in the southern states’ lumber yards, shortleaf pine is heavy, dense, and wet, by which I mean it is loaded with sap and water. It is grown quickly on tree farms that are clear-cut every few decades and replanted with more shortleaf pine. Selective clearing during growth allows the trees more sunlight and nutrient absorption, leading to faster growth. This is also the downfall of this particular species.

If allowed to grow naturally, shortleaf would yield a strong, tight-grained wood that dries without warping or splitting. Unfortunately, the grain of modern yellow pine is wide and wet, loaded with knots, and is known for its instability during the drying process. This is due to the accelerated growth rate so companies like Weyerhaeuser and Deltic can reap greater profits. It is still stronger than fir or white pine, which are the main structural woods available up north, but its tendency to move after installation makes for less tight buildings in the end.

Enter longleaf pine.

Longleaf pine was used on a small scale throughout the first hundred years of the nation’s existence (it was a preferred wood for building but competed heavily with chestnut in the northeast), but after the Civil War, it was pretty much wiped out as a dominant species.

Growing much slower than its cousins, it achieved heights of well over a hundred feet and diameters of a 1977 Ford Econoline van, one with a V8 and seating for eight. Fuzzy dice were optional.

The building boom that followed Reconstruction pretty much doomed the species. Between 1870 and 1920, most of the stands of this noble species were cut and milled into structural and trim elements used in homes and commercial buildings throughout the country, mostly east of the Rockies. Demolish any turn-of-the-century building and you will find dark brown pine timbers that are as straight as when milled a hundred years ago. And just try and put a nail into one. No, don’t. It’ll bend. The wood is hard and dense, and takes nails reluctantly.

This wood is also very old. It was old-growth when cut a hundred fifty years ago, so much of it is between three and five hundred years old.

Known today as ‘antique heart pine,’ it is available mostly as reclaimed wood from demolished buildings, and is used for re-milling into trim elements. There are still stands of longleaf, but they are not the old-growth monsters of the past.

And another tidbit; ‘heart pine’ is actually a corruption of the term ‘hard pine.’ Shortleaf was known as ‘soft pine’ for obvious reasons, but time has corrupted the term.

Once sawn in a certain way, antique heart pine shows off its very tight grain as alternating thin lines of red and cream, which, when varnished (no staining is necessary), turns to a deep orange or red.

The resawing of this wood has to be done in a particular fashion to attain this pattern. ‘Quarter sawing’ exposes the grain in a way to expose the vertical grain along the most horizontal (visible) plane of the wood. There is considerable waste, as that which is flat sawn can’t be used in the same way, but even the waste gets used on other projects.

At DCM, we’ve been taking timbers from a 150-year-old woolen mill demolished near Boston, selecting them for quality, sawing the ends off to examine the grain, color, and amount of pitch, then bisecting them and denailing them using Japanese nail pullers and metal detectors. They are then loaded on a truck, taken to a small saw mill in Charlestown, Rhode Island, and cut into slabs. They are then brought back to the shop to be further selected, planed, and milled into some of what you see here.

 

 

                    Timbers at the scrapyard in Braintree, Mass. DCM timbers are in the background

                                            Selected timbers in the shop yard before separation

                                                
                                                                        Denailing

 
                                          More denailing (featuring Bubbles' lower half)

 
                                          Milling with the Sawmizer, featuring Richard

 
                                                                      Milling close-up

                                                                     Quarter sawing

                                      Slabs loaded on the truck ready to go back to the shop

                                      Very expensive (and accurate) molding machine

                           Very goofy (and accurate) finishers featuring Brian and Matt 

                    Cabinet doors destined for The Ocean House in Watch Hill, Rhode Island

                                             The result of quarter sawing, unfinished

             Half a finished arch for The Ocean House. Flash makes it oranger than it actually is

                           The Ocean House, Watch Hill Rhode Island, as seen from the ocean side

If you’d like more information of DCM, just Google Deschenes and Cooper. I’ll be posting more on our restoration work very soon.

SOUTHERN GRACE/SISTERS AT THE CROSSING

BLYTHEVILLE ARKANSAS

 

This late nineteenth/early twentieth century commercial storefront caught my eye while walking the downtown of this northeast Arkansas city.

Blytheville is worth a walk through its historic downtown, if only for the exercise. I say this tongue-in-cheek; Main Street is one of the longest I’ve ever seen, so you’ll get your workout in walking it. It’s also lined with a lot of interesting architecture.

This building has a banner hanging over the sidewalk reading “Southern Grace Tearoom – OPEN” as well as a nicely designed corner sign on the building proclaiming “Sisters at The Crossing.”

THIS is a fine example of how to enhance the exterior of a turn-of-the-century storefront. The wood panels and single-lite doors are either original or copies of what was originally there. The brick, though painted (and the Railroad Street side has been stuccoed), is in good shape, and if you’re going to paint brick, it might as well be in a shade close to that of the brick below.

The color scheme on the woodwork is pleasing and simple, with earthy tones of mustard and teal allowing the sashes and doors to stand out. The windows on the Railroad Street side’s upper story are arched at the top, and the double window in this style is somewhat unusual. I’m not sure if the round windows on the first floor are original, but the brick that surrounds them is left unstuccoed, a nice touch.

Lastly, the reproduction light fixtures (with fluorescent bulbs, as well) above the plate glass add another turn-of-the-century touch. I wonder if anyone has noticed the pronounced kerf-marks left by the huge circular saw blade on the wood upon which the fixture is mounted.

Entire building restorations (and I’m sure someone spent a pretty penny on the interior) are not always necessary.

Well thought-out enhancements can turn an older building’s façade from something boring and mishmashed to a cohesive part of a historic downtown. It never ceases to amaze me what a good paint scheme, proper signage, and attractive light fixtures can do to make a building stand out (and blend in) as well as to make a community proud.

SOUTHARD BUILDING

BLYTHEVILLE ARKANSAS

 

The Southard Building (I have no idea if it is really called that, but it is the name on the moniker stone) is typical of turn-of-the-century commercial storefronts, containing a retail business on the first floor with a living/office space above.

This one caught my eye because of the faded signs on the west side of the building. I’m sure that it once housed the St. Francis Drug Company, if the only legible sign can be believed. Okay, I can make out the Coca-Cola sign, but that’s about it.

The west side has also seen its upper story windows covered (replaced) with plywood painted a brick red, as well as some non-historic white mortar repointing on the parapet and other areas below. A side door and first floor windows are also missing, their spaces filled with bricks. The first floor windows are placed where they are because shelves and counters lined the walls when it was a drugstore.

I understand that windows go by the wayside when store spaces change with the ages, but I like to see some artistic attempt made where such things exist. Why not paint the upper window plywood to look like windows? Then the ‘eyeless’ look would be avoided and the building enhanced. Repainting the signs is another way to dress up the building; I’d do it with local businesses and design the signs in a turn-of-the-century motif.

I’m not a fan of modern metal storefronts, as GQ Fashions has, but having an operating business in a store is far better than an empty shell. WalMarts will always sprout outside of town; let’s do some shopping in our downtowns to keep them alive and growing.