The Bones of a Home
There seems to be a sense of home when you see a neighborhood with good bones. By bones I mean apparent history or the look of permanence. There is a big difference between having wooden planter boxes and having mortared brick planting boxes. There is a difference in having established trees in you landscape and having tree that were planted within the last 20 years.
There is a difference between tract houses in Warrenton and the homes that have been standing for years in Oysterville.
I find it interesting how people can turn just about any structure into a home. I’m probably fussier than others and I’ve always valued certain things in homes I’ve lived in. They have all been old and all have had two stories. My present house was built on the ground in 1925. Talk about bones; every time I open a wall or a ceiling I find hints of what the builder was thinking at the time. I can picture the house as it was originally constructed. You never get the sense of bones with a house that was hauled in and set down on a slab.
I’ve mentioned that I always hide something in every wall before I cover it up. In this house I have hid news papers, coins, written notes and a set of plans for the additions I’ve built.
A few years ago I was re-roofing the oldest section of the house. I removed one course of comp and two courses of cedar shakes. Stuck to the bottom of the oldest roof was a bundle tag which showed that the shingles were made at the Arch Cape Shingle Mill.
My home will one day belong to someone else, and hopefully they will one day find what I have left them. I hope they ponder what I had in mind as I’ve pondered what the builders before me had in mind.