Waitress Builds Fortress
(Page 2 of 5)
April/May 2004
By Dorothy Ainsworth
Commensurate with my level of craftsmanship, I needed a straightforward, hilltop design, like a Panama hat, to direct the winds up and over. I opted for the unpretentious grace of a lofty gabled barn with sweeping shed wings. (If a tornado hits, I'll see you in Kansas!)
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I constructed a scale model to get the feel of my plans. From years of forethought and soul-searching, I knew exactly what I wanted, but how was a bothersome technicality. With waitressing tips from the cafe, I'd pay as I go, and go 'til I dropped. Labor cost time, but energy was my renewable resource. Except for big-ticket items like appliances, fixtures and a woodburning stove, I would make everything from scratch, including deep windowsills and cedar frames for the glass. Planning ahead was essential.
Inside, ambient light would stream through a bank of large south-facing windows. At eye level, the spectacular views of snow-capped mountains by day and city lights at night would be given their proper status. Never to take my views for granted, I would settle for nothing less than a round portrait window to gaze out of for visual refreshment.
French doors would open out onto a huge front deck with steps leading down to a wood-fired hot tub.
On the north side of my model, I pretended to be up in the loft with its knotty pine walls, a huge bed and a river-rock shower. My imagination slid down the fireman's pole into the den below. Every home needs a hermetically sealed enclave, where one can escape the capricious distractions of life. My cave, with its porthole window and hobbit door, would be my place to run away to without leaving home. I would cherish my time to read, listen to music and watch the Discovery Channel.
An easterly kitchen would be the bright spot in the morning, and the first rays of sunrise would meet me for coffee in the breakfast nook. One of my life's most profoundly simple pleasures is to sip coffee and contemplate the universe.
When I designed the house, I gave myself permission to satisfy—not deny—my eccentricities. So what if the building inspector raises one eyebrow when he signs the checklist—just as long as I'm legal. I also wanted low-maintenance housekeeping. Let moss grow on the river rocks in the shower. Lichens and mushrooms are charming!
I love to cook, but not within the confines of a cramped kitchen. The kitchen is where my personality takes up a lot of space. Give me a massive butcher block and a cleaver, and I'll get serious about dinner. Fresh vegetables are a must and so is a big sink for washing them. I want to throw spinach in the built-in "pond" and let the silt fall several feet to the bottom.
The dining-room table is the most popular place in any home. Everything happens there. Mine would be a colossal 4 by 8 feet and made with planks thick enough to support hungry relatives in a feeding frenzy.
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