Last weekend I strayed from New England and visited this covered bridge in Gettysburg, Pennsylvania. Built in 1852 to span approximately 100 feet across Marsh Creek, it later served both Union and Confederate soldiers in the Battle of Gettysburg. It was closed to traffic in the late 1960’s, and in 1996 floodwaters swept it from its abutments. After raising it three feet and reinforcing it with steel beams, it was then reopened to foot traffic.

The simplicity of its exterior purposeful form has both nostalgic and contemporary appeal. Bands of clapboard cladding alternating with unclad bands, in which crossing structural members are exposed, emphasize the length and tectonics of the span with elegance. From the interior, the diagonal geometry of the substantial exposed wall framing and overhead trusses repeats as if in rhythm with your pace as your cross from one side to the other.

Curiously, the lower, continuous unclad band that invites air and intermittent daylight inside is below eye level. This directs your focus inward and reinforces the sheltering experience. I wonder, though, if the restoration change to the bridge elevation put the daylight openings below eye level; perhaps the soldiers in 1863 could have looked out with greater ease because they were crossing on a different, lower floor level relative to the daylight openings. On the other hand, it may have been intentionally originally designed to limit view and exposure. Still, I longed to pause en route and comfortably take in the view from within. Too bad for me. I’ll have to design my own covered bridge.

by Katie Hutchison for the House Enthusiast

When I came across this scene, I felt as if I’d walked into a Vilhelm Hammershoi painting. If you’re not familiar with Hammershoi, he’s the Danish painter from the turn of the century who captured quiet interiors and exteriors with soft, luminous light. This aging, eyebrow dormer window -- complete with peeling paint, rows of snail shells, and view of a peaceful meadow -- gave me butterflies.

The confluence of elements that had me all aflutter are really rather fundamental. The curved ceiling, under which the eyebrow window nestles, is comfortably embracing. The center, operable, six-lite casements invite fresh air, daylight, and communion with the meadow below. The fixed, multi-pane sashes on either end of the curve extend the view frame and emphasize an intimate scale, requiring you to approach with head bent if you desire a closer look outdoors. The crackling, creamy white finishes with glimpses of green paint below reflect the room’s history and the vagaries of personal taste. The collection of shells carefully arranged on the sill reminds us that the sea is nearby and that someone has enjoyed collecting its offerings to display in this special, private spot.

After I saw this tableau, I was ready to move in to this little house. If only.

by Katie Hutchison for the House Enthusiast

On a gorgeous Sunday afternoon, I had the pleasure of attending this diverse arts event housed in the adapted, historic, masonry warehouses of Boston’s Fort Point arts district. I’d never been before and was delighted by the chance to browse through all manner of artwork in some exquisite loft studios. Many were drenched with light, bordered by old brick, and topped with exposed rough-hewn wood beams, making the event as much a self-guided architectural tour as an arts happening.

My time was limited, so I only touched on a few of the many offerings, but several caught my eye. I decided with my fellow tour companions to explore a large venue first, 249 A Street. There we found book artist Laura Davidson in a sunny spot with an eclectic display of her one-of-a-kind and limited edition books. Her Fenway Park “tunnel book” was a highlight. It’s a small, hand-assembled presentation of layered, pictorial pages that create a nostalgic, diorama-like view of the stadium and Boston skyline. (Her timing couldn't be better.) Paper mosaics titled the “Antiquities Series” likewise reveal her careful craftsmanship and taste for the muted tones we associate with the patina of age. Her work deftly manipulates paper to great three-dimensional effect.

In the same building, we also discovered photographer Don Eyles whose

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Click on this photo to see it in the note cards/prints gallery.Maybe I’m being influenced by the season, but I find this pumpkin-orange-colored antique with white window sashes and curtains as tempting as candy corn. Yes, I have a sweet tooth. Interestingly, this type of strong color was often featured on original colonial houses, rather than the faded colors we tend to associate with our forefathers’ homes. Painting the clapboards the same color as the thick window trim and sill makes a bold statement. The contrasting white window sashes provide a bright accent. Playful shadows cast on the interior curtains by the window muntins round out a pleasingly graphic composition.

by Katie Hutchison for the House Enthusiast

I’ve been photographing this seaside gem for years. There’s so much that’s right about it. The width of the porch is gracious and welcoming. The overhang is just deep enough to keep the rain off, but not too deep to become dark and encumbered. Even though it provides access to doors in two different directions, there’s no confusion about which is the front door and which is the side door. The double-hung windows that flank the main entry entice visitors with a glimpse through the building to the view beyond. Curved brackets and flared door trim echo the boat-like detailing of the porthole dormer windows above. It’s an appealing example of what well-considered design can achieve.

by Katie Hutchison for the House Enthusiast