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It's a lovely kitchen, really. In the 1960s it was brand new. Large, partially open to the dining room so the person in the kitchen is not walled off. Lots of counter space. A sink with a wonderful window that looks outside while you work. A wood stove to keep it cozy. A door to the back where you could unload groceries or sit at a little table outside to have your coffee. My job will be to keep it recognizable while having a kitchen that spans time from the truly old house to the new one, without it being stuck in one time period. So maybe not all white for starters, though it is in a darker part of the house and I do prefer white. And as I have mentioned in other posts, I would like to push it back a bit to the north (into the space/room that now contains a work bench and can only be reached from the outside). Should the wood stove stay there? Memories. But wouldn't it make more sense to move it to the living room rather than have it be something you can bump into near the cellar door and the bathroom door. Taking input.

I love those upstairs windows in the front of the house. Two simple windows surrounded by an upside down V (I guess it would officially be called a dormer). How could I improve on those windows? Right now and since the 1950s at least, those two windows go with a tiny extra bedroom- almost too small to use, forced into an awkward L shape by the intrusion of the stairwell. My dream would be to have these windows open not only to the rest of the upstairs (no bedroom walls sealing off that light) but also all the way down to the downstairs via the stairwell, lighting up the front entryway and adjoining living room. I am not usually a fan of 'cathedral ceilings' both for lack of heat efficiency and my association of them in McMansions, but this might be one exception to my rigid tastes. Here they are currently from the outside: Here is that awkward tiny bedroom upstairs with the two windows (note the wood panelling wall that surrounds the closed-in stairwell): So my idea would be to take out that floor for this bedroom (no 3rd bedroom after that), take out that wood panelled wall surrounding the stairwell and have this space with the windows open to the upstairs and downstairs. The one big downside to removing the 3rd bedroom is all the memories that kids have of staying there. Not being an engineer, I'm not sure if this is a pipe dream and how you would make the stairwell safely surrounded without looking fenced-in. More research to do on designs of open stairwells. Here's a closer look at that bedroom door entrance and the closed-in stairwell down beside it (to the right of the bedroom): And here is how dark the upstairs hallway at the top of the stairs is now:

The house site itself is first mentioned as a land grant to Dan Parker (see my Post The Original Land Grantee). The original land grants in Vermont were given out for patronage and favors; many parcels were granted from the governor of New Hampshire who argued over the holdings with New York state. Vermont didn't exist as early as NH and NY and was looked at as available land by all surrounding states, including Massachusetts and Connecticut.[1] In 1798 Dan Parker sold it to James Tarbox from Windsor for 1600 Spanish milled dollars. Spanish coins were common during this time and a written promissory note would state how many Spanish milled dollars it would be worth. "The "milled" part of "Spanish milled" currency refer[r]ed to the ridged edges that made it difficult for less honest folks to cheat other[s] by actually shaving the valuable silver off of the coins. If the ridges were flattened or missing, it meant your currency was not complete. This clever design made Spanish coinage the preferred currency in trade world-wide." The U.S. Dollar wasn't the official currency of Vermont until 1785. [2] You didn't carry much cash around with you in the 1830s. First of all there weren't many paper notes available (and only as good as the bank that backed them) and coins were also scarce. England had initially banned any minting of coins here. Most buying and selling was recorded in a ledger, if it had a signature attached that was even better. The buyer and seller just agreed on the value of what they were trading.[3] It was a little bit like using a credit card. The purchase was recorded, you signed, and were expected to pay up at a later date. No monthly bill in the mail though. Often these back and forth debts could go on for years and some were never paid. But people got what they needed if it was something they didn't already grow or produce themselves at home. Diversified farms were the norm with products such as wool, butter, cheese, maple sugar, apples and Morgan horses. The recognition of this farm-worthy adaptable breed of horse made it a good sales item to help with "pay[ing] off a mortgage or providing school tuition for their children."[4] [1] "The New Hampshire Grants," Vermont History Explorer, 2023, https://vermonthistoryexplorer.org/the-new-hampshire-grants (19, November, 2023) [2] "Spanish Coin," Fort Stanwix National Monument, National Park Service, 10/20/2022, https://www.nps.gov/articles/000/spanish-coins.htm#:~:text=On%20each%20was%20written%20the,the%20piece%2Dof%2Deight. (19, November, 2023) [3] Kelleher, Tom,“The Debit Economy of 1830’s New England,” Teach US History, https://www.teachushistory.org/detocqueville-visit-united-states/articles/debit-economy-1830s-new-england (15, November, 2023) [4] Fuller, Edmund, VERMONT, A History of the Green Mountain State, 1952, State of Vermont, Vermont Printing Company, Brattleboro, VT The photo below is taken from [2] above, Spanish reale (royal) coin

September 28, 2023 Today we bought my husband’s father’s place at 462 Ridge Road in Randolph Center, Vermont. It’s a long-time family home, belonging first to my husband’s grandfather Harry H. Cooley in 1953. The extended family gathered there, especially in summers. Barbeques on the front lawn were a tradition on August 16th, Bennington Battle Day, a Revolutionary War celebration. Other memorable times included picking raspberries, walking up the hill into the woods, cutting firewood, and visiting the horses there raised by his son Charles, my husband’s father. Horses have since become a big part of my life, having been gifted one of Charles’s horses Lexa, a Lippitt Morgan (truly a Vermont breed). To be able to live in that house someday, with all its memories, to use the barn there that Charles built himself, this is a dream come true for me. It’s kind of weird that it is more my dream than my husband’s desire. He cares about the house and didn’t want it to be sold outside the family, but is less passionate about it than I am. Maybe he is more realistic, maybe he sees all the work (and the money) that will need to be invested. If the house had been given more attention 10-15 years ago, maybe it could have been restored. But even then, Charles talked about it as if it was going to be a hard thing to do. He thought the crumbling stone foundation of a house over 150 years old was going to make that difficult. Now, not only have many of the stones collapsed inwards but the sills are rotting, the floor joists holding the first floor are punky and moldy. You can still see these half-timbers with bark on them from the cellar. Some broken windows let the weather and small animals inside along with their droppings. The house seems to be made up of two houses put together. The smaller house on the south/east side has its own separate upstairs (you can’t cross over to the house’s other upstairs section in the main house). Up there you can look up through openings in the ceiling to the roof area. There are some missing floorboards as well, where a misplaced step could get you hurt. A large fireplace was built downstairs in this section of the house by Harry/Grampa Cooley. It was probably beautiful initially and made for a cozy sitting room, but was never quite right- with a crack developing up the middle from the heavy chimney. The garage in the downstairs off this sitting room seems to be placed right on the ground adding to the influx of moisture. A good-sized tree is growing up next to the garage door and into the side of the house there. Look at the lines of the house, does it have ‘good bones?’ No, sadly it does not. If you stand in front of the house looking at the north side, you will see how the upstairs has a dangerous tilt in it (away from the house). Why do I have such a fondness for this house? I think I have seen other family members reverence for it and this has rubbed off on me. But also, it is a perfect Vermont house. White, sort of a Cape Cod style, except for a peak in the front forming an upside-down V shape in the roof for two windows to add light to the upstairs. It’s simple but just a little more interesting than the usual. When I was in college (about 50 years ago) I even made a little model of the house for a landscape design class I was taking up at UVM. I have always had an affinity for this house. Part of the warmth of the house was due to its owner, Harry Cooley. As my husband’s grandfather I got to know him pretty well. OK, so he was older, and I was young, but I didn’t see him as old. He was really smart, like all of the Cooleys; his quiet intelligence came through when you talked to him. He treated me like an equal, not like a kid. He was interested in our lives. He discussed politics and the state of the world and his time in the domestic Peace Corps (VISTA). He visited us in Burlington and had dinner with us. I was a little bit in awe of him (the way you might feel when you are around somebody important) yet I was very comfortable too. He was unassuming and not arrogant, yet he was self-confident and accomplished. Just a cool person, like the house. I think some of the stories, memories about life in Randolph Center, are actually about the family farm just down the road, hundreds of acres with a dairy farm where the kids grew up. These stories are mixed in for me with the house at 462 Ridge Road (since the farm was sold by the time I entered the family). The farm had a sugar house to make Vermont maple syrup, my husband, as a boy, had to feed the calves, lots of cousins came to visit and play while the women made hearty meals, homemade bread and delicious pies. This farm was also part of the Ridge Road story. When Harry was ready to have his oldest son take over the farm in 1953, he moved down to the house he bought from Sam Day- “The Day House” at 462 Ridge Road. This is the house I am writing about. I forgot to mention the site…imagine yourself on a small hill in Vermont, you turn around to the west and see before you a spread of hills, laid out like a topographical map of the Green Mountain Range. They can often look like a hulking, hazy blue/gray color. You get treated to a sunset here as the sun sinks below those hills lighting up the clouds and sky. And in front of the hills are green fields as far as the eye can see. Kind of spectacular. My husband does always say his favorite spot for a house would be a sunset view. Top off all of these perks with the fact that I grew up in Vermont. I went to school in Randolph. Two of my sisters and their families live in Central Vermont. My brother-in-law lives in Randolph. Many sets of cousins from both sides of the family live in Vermont. No matter what, home feels the best for most people. Where you grow up- the place, the culture, the people, all of this seems to bind to you forever.