Recently, we had the opportunity to stay at a friend's summer house on the coast of Maine. The location now has more neighbors nearby than I remember it did back in the '70s when I first went there, but it is still somewhat remote and isolated. It's a strikingly beautiful spot, right on the water, which is frigid but refreshing. The sunrises, sunsets, and the moonlight through the pines are spectacular.
Lobster boats chugging along through the morning fog, and crows and gulls calling each other throughout the day provide the soundtrack.
But in the days that I spent there; my eyes kept coming back to the quality of work performed by the carpenters who built the home back around 1970. It was true summer cottage construction at its highest form. With open stud walls and diagonal 1x6 siding which also provides the interior finish, you would expect that here and there a misplaced nail that missed a stud, or evidence of one, would be apparent. I couldn't find one. Each stud appeared lovingly toenailed into the top and bottom plates with no adjacent hammer marks as if each one had been finished off with a nail set. The quality of the structural timbers was beautiful tight grain spruce, almost clear of knots. Every stud was plumb, every joint was square, and there was no evidence of "holidays" (mistakes covered up or left in place). Having been in summer places like this off and on when I was a kid, I couldn't then appreciate the care and artistry that went into this type of construction. Now, after half a working life as a carpenter, I am in awe of the disappearing craft of the summer cottage.
In the age of nail guns, many wood-frame structures are promiscuously slammed together as fast as possible to satisfy the budget, often by the low bidder. Most framing will be forever buried behind insulation and drywall, so appearance is not that important. It's still critically important to employ experienced and careful framers, who will ensure that the structure is plumb, square, and well joined. To do otherwise sets up a nightmare scenario for the finish carpenters who come in later.
My friend told me an old carpenter named Robbins, whose family has lived in the area for hundreds of years, built the house. To this day, his great-grandson does upkeep on the house. I need to credit the architect too, a man named Dick Brigham, whom we worked on several projects toward the end of his career. I'm sure that he discussed expectations carefully with Robbins and had a large hand in the outcome. The simple and elegant design of the home complements the beauty of the location perfectly.
Thanks, Dick... And thanks to those artisan builders of the past, like Mr. Robbins, who carry on the tradition today.
Northshore Home Magazine
Looking for inspiration to upgrade your yard? S+H's Ed Sullivan chimed in on this 
