The ship is floundering

For years I lived in a large Tudor home, or as a family member called it, an “English two-door”. It was built in 1920 in the U.S. and was most certainly a relic from the days when people had live-in domestic help.

Maintaining such a home is a time consuming and expensive proposition. It was sometimes hard to find a balance between restoring with historical accuracy and updating to modern systems.

The front door looked as though it could withstand a battering ram, 4 inches thick, wooden and heavy. Inside the front door was an ante-room, another heavy door and then the foyer. This was the size of an average living room and was for the most part unused space. It was large enough for a 5 piece orchestra to play comfortably in when we agreed to participate in a walking tour of historic homes, in support of a local theatre one Christmas. There was room left over for a sizable Christmas tree and a grandfather clock that chimed. Being asked to participate in fundraising events becomes a regular occurrence when one owns a home like this.

In addition to all the usual rooms found in an average home, there was a library, a solarium with a stocked bar, a sewing/ironing room, sleeping porch, butler’s pantry, mud room and servants quarters. There were window seats everywhere. Nearly every room had at least one wall of windows with an upholstered seat running along the length.

We installed new hardwood floors throughout the first and most of the second floor.

Secret wall compartments were tucked away around the house. Certain panels opened when pressure was applied, like in a Hercule Poirot mystery.

There was a kitchen original to the house used for food preparation, with stainless counter tops that ran the length of the walls, prep sinks and a pass through to another slightly smaller kitchen with a swinging door that led into the dining room. There was a dumb waiter (no longer in use) that went to a hallway on the second floor, great for playing hide and seek. Once in a while someone would get stuck and be forced to give away their position in order to be helped out of the little cabinet.

There was a narrow back stairway used by the staff, back when there was staff – 2 flights that led to the bedrooms on the second floor and then 2 more that led up to the attic. The attic itself could have served as a very nice living space except for it being unbearably hot in summer and bone chilling in winter.

The doorways were narrow in the “service” area. They led to the basement, laundry room, butler’s pantry and a small apartment. These floors were original to the house.

The bathrooms were almost completely original. Nice in some ways, but not very practical. The tubs were free standing and large, there were only 2 real showers in the entire house; the rest had bathtubs with handheld sprayers attached to the taps. The most popular bathroom with a shower was located in the master suite which meant a steady stream of traffic coming through the bedroom in the mornings.

Many of the bathrooms had the original fixtures similar to these. Others had been updated. There’s also a tub and shower in this bathroom that’s partially visible in the mirror. This type of radiator was throughout the house.

The concept of locking bathroom doors was unheard of in our house. The locks on the doors were all original and the skeleton keys had become either lost or were in the junk drawer in the kitchen and it just wasn’t worth anyone’s time to try to match each with its proper door. This created some minor issues when company came. Our house rule was a closed bathroom door meant occupied and visitors would have to try to trust in that. At yet another fundraising event, even our soon to be Governor wasn’t comfortable in a bathroom with no lock and asked one of his staff to stand outside when he went in.

There’s an episode of Downton Abbey when Lord Grantham says “I’ll sleep in my dressing room tonight” as if he’s making some sort of sacrifice. The master suite in our house had a dressing room. One wall was lined with rows of shallow drawers, meant for folded shirts, ties and other sundry items, a full length free standing mirror and a window seat overlooking the back of the property. There was also a full-sized bed and a small bathroom. Lord Grantham wasn’t exactly roughing it.

There were very few overhead light fixtures except in some of the bedrooms upstairs. There were sconces in most of the rooms that didn’t provide much light. Even with white ceilings and light walls, the house seemed dark much of the time. Extra lamps were a necessity.

The winters were cold not just in the attic but in the entire house. There was a fireplace in every bedroom and common area. The house didn’t seem designed with New England winters in mind. I’d be comfortable wearing a turtleneck, fleece jacket, sweatpants and heavy socks to bed. The original owners probably spent their winters somewhere much further south or maybe this was the height of modern heating in the early 20s.

The furnace was always on its last legs, propped up in some spots by blocks of wood. It was originally coal burning, but had been converted to oil at some point. I remember the furrowed brows on many a technician’s face when I’d lead them down to the cellar to service this behemoth.

All windows had to be covered in plastic every winter to keep the heat inside. The covering of the windows was an annual family activity that began in October.

A large house like this is an amazing place for children to grow up. A magical place of discovery. There was plenty of room to play with friends. There were areas inside large and empty enough to ride a scooter around. There was an empty room on the second floor that became the train room. I filled it with low plastic tables and we designed quite an impressive railway system with 2 separate train sets. There was a high speed bullet train on one side and “Thomas the tank engine” on the other. It was the sort of thing you’d only want to set up once, and because of the size of the house, we were able to do just that.

The cellar was divided up into several small rooms, most with doors and shelving on the walls. There was also a bathroom down there. They were designed to serve a purpose back in the day; wine rooms, cold storage, dry goods, etc. The cellar was avoided by most and was off limits to kids. It was full of dangers, such as a deep well-like hole in the floor that was often filled with water.

The house is unique on the street. It was the only house with any property to speak of. It was situated between two parallel streets with a “service entrance” that led out the back of the property.

The yard was by far. where the kids and I found the greatest joy living in this house. It was an oasis from the world, surrounded by 3+ acres of lawn and woods, insulated from traffic sounds and the dogs could run free. It was like having our own private park. A hill on one side was perfect for sledding in winter. The kids also learned how to make maple syrup with sap that we collected with a simple tap and bucket attached to a tree.

Sledding. The copper beech tree in the background is over 100 years old. The black figures sitting in the leaves to the left are the dogs.

The grounds were full of various wildlife. Some transient, some permanent residents. The array of birds was incredible for a yard in the suburbs. One night, we heard a noise outside and the motion sensor floodlights came on. The kid’s grandmother opened the front door and found herself eye to eye with an eight point buck, standing in the circular drive. There were deer living in the woods adjacent to the lawn. I often caught a glimpse of one or two lying in the woods during the day. I put food out for them on a feeding station I set up on a tree. I provided the food because there was nowhere for them to go that didn’t require crossing a busy street or wandering through a parking lot and residential neighborhoods and a few had already been hit by cars.

We grew Dahlias. I was very proud of those Dahlias. We divided and saved the bulbs from year to year and had a magnificent crop every summer. One spring morning, I was utterly devastated to find the deer had dug up and eaten most of the bulbs. I was upset, no doubt, but unlike one of our neighbors, I would never think of retaliating in any way. I knew a neighbor who had no tolerance for deer and skunks ravaging their gardens. So, I fed them hoping to keep them safe in our yard. The only hazard they faced was one of our dogs bounding after them through the woods occasionally. Raccoons, skunks, foxes and plenty of neighborhood cats (due to the large crop of catnip we planted in the garden) came through on a regular basis. We had hawks, owls and crows that would stop for a few days.

I discovered the bird feeders were attracting wood rats. As much as I respect wildlife, I couldn’t abide rats and took down the bird feeders that were closest to the woods. I don’t particularly like crows either – or rather the racket a flock can make – waking everyone at the crack of dawn with that incessant “CAW… CAW… CAW”. Usually, my husband would go outside and hit the trunk of a tree with a broomstick or something to shut them up. It did, but only until he got back into bed. Early one morning he had had enough of one particularly brazen crow and went outside, picked up a rock and threw it at the thing. We heard the “thwack”. Neither of us could believe he’d actually hit the bird, it was quite a distance away, in a tree in the cover of other trees. We thought we saw it fly away and went back inside. Later on, he found it, dead, lying on top of a bush back in the woods. I felt bad. I didn’t want it killed, just out of our yard. It was a crime of passion though, committed in the heat of the moment. He had been working all night.

There was a small fenced in fish pond where the only resident was a bullfrog that reappeared every summer and a brook that, when it rained, overflowed and flooded parts of the lawn.

There was a fountain (which we didn’t run). The wooded areas had originally been manicured lawns with flower beds and daffodils that I was often asked about as they seemed so strange popping up 100 feet back in the woods. Nearly half of the original lawn had been taken over by various bushes and saplings. There was still plenty of lawn area left, more than most people need. It must have been incredibly beautiful back in the 1920s.

The “thinking rock”, was a large boulder just off the patio, where we would sit and talk about things, sit and think or just sit.

There was a patio next to our thinking rock with a sitting wall that was covered in geraniums from May through October. Pulling the weeds from between the flagstones was a weekly project. The many trees in the yard provided a spectacular show in the Fall. We pressed leaves into a heavy book and labeled them every year.

One day the kids found a small hole at the base of a tree with a flat rock covering it. There was something barely legible scratched into the rock but it looked like it said “Sara’s…something”. We couldn’t quite make it out. But, in the hole under the rock they found an arrowhead, a small blue bottle and a key. It was so much fun for them to find this and they eventually added a few things of their own to this mini time capsule.

The little quirks of daily living in a big old house are endless and many features of the house definitely spark the imagination. It served both as a teaching tool and a window into a time where things were simpler (at least in our minds), and understated opulence was possible. The over-sized rooms that often seemed so empty and lonely magically became just the right size when the house was full of family and friends. The livingroom, that a friend once said seemed about as homey as a hotel lobby, came alive during family gatherings, full of laughing children and clinking glasses.

Outside, there were dogwood blossoms, hickory nuts and widow makers that fell from above. The house was equal parts hazard and haven. Overall, it was a wonderful experience living in a home that size; essentially unchanged from the early 1900s. It was our home and we very much lived in it. It provided my children with room to spread their wings and make all sorts of discoveries all on their own. It gave them a sense of a connection to the home life of a family much like ours 100 years ago, and to learn to appreciate the beauty and value of nature in their own back yard.