As a designer, history runs through my veins. Few things give me more pleasure than giving new life to things crafted hands long stilled.
Six years ago I fell in love with the 80-year-old converted stable that my family now calls home. I have spent many hours piecing together its past — details about the New Englanders who carved a working farm from the rocky hilltop, the apple orchard now reduced to a single tree, the rubble walls that criss-cross the neighborhood.
It is an ongoing process, with occasional delightful surprises. Last week I heard from a gentleman who grew up there in simpler times. He wants to see how the old place is getting along. Maybe I can learn a little bit too. I’ll keep you posted.