The whole famn damily

So I can't get this house out of my head, despite all logical arguments about what a project it is, how the timing is bad as far as selling my current house, etc., etc., etc.... So I decide to have a post and beam specialist look at it to make sure it is structurally sound and worth investing in. I schedule a local company to do the evaluation.

I leave work early one day, meeting my parents, brother, and Matt at the Wrentham outlets. We all pile into Mom's minivan and head to the house. Mom and Danny were with me on the first visit, but Matt and Dad were working. So they need to see it for themselves. I'm certain they'll love it. What's not to love?

There's a car in the driveway when we arrive, but it is not the post & beam specialist. It is some random guy, standing in the doorway of the side entrance, apparently afraid to go in. We said hello, he mumbled something about "I heard this was for sale..." and gave me quite the look when I responded "yeah, isn't it great?" He hastily got in his car and left. Hilarious.

Matt, Dad, Danny, and I walk further back onto the land then I had gone the first time, and there is definitely pasture potential here, given enough heavy equipment, that is. Some mature trees, but a lot of brushy undergrowth and young growth trees as well. We reach a clearing that looks as though it had been logged at some point in the not too distant past, then turn around to get back to the house in time to meet Tom Green of Colonial Restorations.

Tom gives the structure a thorough inspection, I think he's happy being able to see everything exposed, it certainly eliminates the guesswork. The verdict is a happy one, overall the frame is in good shape, certainly worth investing in. I've been told the house was built in 1850, Tom is able to verify that this is about right due to the fact that the timbers were cut with a circular saw, rather than handhewn. According to him, the circular sawmill was invented around 1830, and it probably took a while to get to this town! The timbers are heavier than he expected to see in a house of this vintage, 8x8 & 9x9 rather the the 6x6 more usual for the time period. Rather than being left as gunstock corners, they have instead been carved out so the walls could be installed flush. I am assured that this does not compromise the structural strength. There is better than average bracing in place as well, and minimal spreading of those joints over the years.

I think, and Tom concurs, that the ell on the back of the house has a timber frame that seems older than the main house. It wsa certainly built separately, with different joinery styles of the timber frame, and a completely different method of roof joists as well. We suspect that it may have been attached to the house after it was built. I don't think the ell was there first since there is a window hole cut into the upstairs bedroom wall that looks down into the ell, it is the same size and placement as the other windows. To me, that says the main house stood separately and then the ell was attached later. Particularly as there is no evidence of a floor having ever existed in what would be the ell's second story, which would make the window a door opening. Although there is a window in the peak of the ell's far end. So the jury's still out on that one. Opinions welcome.




The attic is a surprise, with its canted posts. This style is more commonly seen in barns than houses. Was this frame intended to be a barn? I like barns. I wasn't born in a barn, but I got into one just as soon as I could! The planks that form the roof sheathing are plainly visible, bark still attached. The house needs a roof, and re-sheathing with plywood should add some rigidity to the joist system that Tom feels could be beneficial.

The basement is next. This is where we expect to find some damage, and we are not disappointed. There are two beams that need about 5 feet replaced each, and 20 feet or so of rotten sill. I am not surprised since the rotted sill under the front door is clearly visible from above, and the other bad area is where there are piles of debris against the house outside, likely trapping water. The floor joists span a little further than they should, and consequently bounce a bit when they are walked across upstairs, so Tom recommends reinforcing them from the basement with new pilings, posts, and headers. That will take some of the sag out of the floor, and prevent it from getting any worse. The ell floor will need the same treatment.

So if I was looking for a reason to not buy it, the structure isn't it. It certainly is worth investing in, it definitely needs repair, but is remarkably straight and square given its age, and well-built.

In the beginning

In the beginning, there was an obscure for-sale ad stumbled across on equinesite.com's real estate section. Not having any intention of house shopping, why was I even there? Bored, I suppose. Nonetheless, there I found myself. Staring at an ad stating something to the effect of "gutted colonial on 60+ acres". Accompanied by a price I thought had to be wrong. They meant to put a 1 comma in front of that, didn't they??? Hmmm...I'll just email to get the scoop. What the heck, right?

Blink, and I am pulling in to the driveway on a gray afternoon in late May 2008, thunderstorm threatening. First glimpse: white vinyl siding, sun-faded black shutters. Sign at the front door declares Private Property. Sidelight windows on both sides of the front door, broken panes stuffed with insulation and black plastic. Gorgeous leaded glass fanlight above. Front steps crumbling, from what I can see of them through the long grass. Enormous rhododendron, in full fuschia bloom, obscures one front window. After brief introductions with the realtor outside, we negotiate the broken asphalt walkway and mount the rickety steps to the side door.

Tour the house, equipped with flashlights heavy enough to use as clubs in case the boogeyman appears. There are few things in life creepier than an empty, unfamiliar, gutted-to-the-studs, built-before-the-civil-war house during a thunderstorm. Especially the cavernous, windowless fieldstone basement. Successfully avoid breaking legs on holes in floor, loose boards, etc. At least one dead, decomposed bird per room. Bird turd covers the wide pine floorboards. Broken windows in what has to have been the kitchen, an ell off the main house that connects through to the (mercifully) new three-car garage. Water flows down around one chimney as the rain catches up with the thunder. More water pours into the basement where the bulkhead should be. There is only one conclusion to be drawn here, so I promptly draw it: this house needs me.

Thunder past, we traipse out along a dirt road of sorts to scope out the land. Several pits were dug at some point in the not-too-distant past, and are now full of standing water. Nice mosquito breeding operation they have going here. Lovely stone walls, though, and other than the pits, not too un-level. It's too lushly overgrown to go very far back, though, and it's still drizzling, so we turn around and walk back to the house. Approaching from the back, there are piles of debris in the back yard, apparently from the demolition. Nothing has been mowed in years. Before leaving, we carefully check for ticks, and thankfully manage to find them before they bite.

Drive away thinking: yikes. What a project, yet what potential! I'm going to make this happen.