One of the most striking things about our new (olde) house is its original heating system. Not oil, not gas, but CHIMNEYS! Downstairs in the basement you can see the bottom arches of these massive brick structures, rising from the ground like roman aqueducts. Impressive in scale and beautiful in form and function. This Book speaks at length about colonial chimneys and is a great read for anyone interested in the subject.
When we began looking for a new house, we saw many kitchens. Some were so-so, some were downright beautiful. But none of them spoke to me. Except to say HANDS OFF! the way a lady might slap a frisky man. I was looking for a plow horse, but all I found were prima donnas. Until SHE walked in.
My kitchen is not showy. Like the rest of this house, it is old. It is not cherry & granite, stainless steel, status and POWER. It is simple. It is trying in some ways, like an elderly relative who needs help finding their glasses. You wonder WHY DON’T YOU JUST PUT THEM ON YOUR NIGHTSTAND? But you search for an hour anyway. Out of love. My kitchen has character. That rare attribute that only comes w/ age. From its retro counter to the curve of its built-in shelves, my kitchen makes me happy. I like its red color. I like the way the vintage cooktop wobbles. I even like the way the tap leaks unless you turn it slightly to the side. MY KITCHEN. Like a favorite pair of sweatpants, it’s what you turn to when you’re hungry.
Even though I don’t have a dishwasher anymore, I am not angry. Each day & night as I wash dishes by hand, I look out my lovely window to my nice next-door neighbor’s house. I think about living in this most historic home. I think about what it was like 250 years ago, when EVERYTHING was work. And then I feel humbled, and grateful. For all the modern conveniences I do have. Like my OVEN! Even though the dial doesn’t correspond to the temperature, so everything is guesswork – It sure beats cooking over a campfire.
And there’s my washing machine!! Which is right there in my kitchen.
Sure, some people might think that’s odd. But I don’t. I am so happy – b.c I LOVE DOING LAUNDRY!!! And I LOVE to cook. So now I can do them at the same time! My husband even wired the clothes dryer into the kitchen, so now I can fry bacon and dry my pants, simultaneously. But there’s more. The former owner – when he modernized this kitchen in the 50s, thought practically. He knew there’d be a need for counter space as well as convenience, and he didn’t want to sacrifice one at the expense of another. So he crafted a special countertop that lifts and/or slides out from atop the washing machine.
So you can access the machine whenever needed, but when not in use, it functions as normal workspace. Pure genius!
I know you are all wondering WHERE IS THE FRIDGE??!! WHERE DO THEY KEEP THEIR FOOOOD??! When my husband wired the clothes dryer into the kitchen, we had to move the refrigerator into the adjacent keeping room. Mostly b/c there wasn’t anywhere else to put it. It took a little getting used to, but now the fridge LOVES it!
He gets to hang out right next to the fireplace. So he stays cozy warm, even while he’s keeping our ice cream icy cold. Plus he likes being part of the action. Sometimes we even throw him scraps when we’re eating. GOOD BOY!
9 am and they just left. A family of fifteen. Talk about ANIMALS! By the end of the meal, they’d knocked a tray to the ground, there was food everywhere, and 2 of the kids were pooping in the bushes. And they didn’t even pay!! I turned my back for a minute and they’d run off. I’d try to catch them, but 6 ladies just walked in, there’s a group of 7 due any minute, and a party of 16 this afternoon. You’d think they’d have the courtesy to call in a reservation. But of course not. They are TURKEYS after all.
Nearly 2 months since closing & I’m still awestruck each time I come home.
Welcome to my “new” house. Better known as the Francis Waldo-Daniel Dole House of Stroudwater Village, Portland. Yes, that is a mouthful.
Above is a street view taken a century ago. Here’s what it looks like today.
This is the view from the back. The house itself is spectacular, but it’s the yard that first drew us in. Talk about beautiful. Waking up to this each morning makes me thank God I am alive. Although we’re still in Portland, we’re about as far away from the Old Port as you can be w/in city limits – about 10 minutes by car. The feel of the place is suburban, almost rural. Our neighborhood, Stroudwater Village, is one of the oldest sections of the city, founded in 1658 (according to the sign on Congress Street), but more often stated as 1727. Our house – the Dole House – predates the American Revolution. But we have yet to determine its exact age. The former owners give the date as 1740. We have a book which claims it was built between 1760 and 65. An online reference states 1771-2. At this point it’s anyone’s guess. Officially, the oldest home in Portland – The Tate House – is right down the street and was built in 1755. But it’s owned by an historical society and maintained as a museum. It could be reasonably argued our house is the oldest surviving colonial residence in Portland.