In the Quiet Hours

It was late, and the Main House at Blackberry Farm was quiet, save a crackling fire and the steady patter of rain outside. I was headed back to my accommodation, when, passing through the front sitting area, I found a man kneeling next to an overturned table. Drop cloths had been stretched across the upholstery. In those quiet hours of the night, maintenance was at work. He politely got up and greeted me.

At the time, I was knee-deep in a house renovation of my own. Having just been introduced to the orbital sander, I had been fumbling my way through rudimentary woodworking projects. I asked the man if I could watch him work. He didn’t mind. In fact, he was eager to answer my many questions about the touch-ups he was making. 

For those who have undergone a renovation (or many), the experience is a humbling reminder of just how little most of us know about how the world is put together. And because of that, what many initially believe will be a straightforward project, quickly snowballs. Moving a wall might seem like a simple proposition until you start learning that there are actually things inside that wall. Despite what I had apparently assumed, water and electricity do not magically appear at faucets and outlets. It seems ridiculous now, but it also had to be pointed out to me that my simple idea was not immune to gravity – I had not considered that the walls might actually be structurally responsible for holding the house upright.

Moving walls also results in gaping holes in the floor and ceiling, both of which have to be patched – if you can find matching wood and paint. That is a saga in itself. If you want to see an unblinking stare, tell a paint specialist you want white walls. When she produced a thick binder of paint chips, I thought she might try to tempt me with a more exciting color. While that might have been what she was thinking, that was not what she was doing. There are, I have now discovered, hundreds of shades of white alone.

Daunting though these types of domestic forays are, they can also be unexpectedly rewarding. There’s a payoff from seeing an idea come to life. I especially enjoyed the tremendous amount of learning it demanded of me. But most outstanding is the awareness and appreciation I have gained for all the trades and specialists that make a house not only sound, but also beautiful.

Wandering into unknown territory, I quickly realized that the more I learned, the less I knew. That forced me to seek out those who have been swimming in those waters for years, sometimes decades. I wasn’t just impressed with the knowledge that these experts had accrued, but marveled at the skill and wisdom they had developed, and often, the innate talent with which they have been gifted.

I now understand the addiction that develops from house projects. It’s not very different from the fanaticism and fascination that many develop in other fields, like F1 racing and watchmaking, or sushi, viniculture and tailoring. We celebrate those who, through years of practice and study, achieve expertise. They become uniquely good at what they do, often making difficult tasks look effortless. Sometimes, we aspire to be as good or better. And sometimes, we are happy to just admire from afar.

Back in the Main House, I watched the joiner rifle through his palette of wood stains, looking for just the right match. Having tried to repair similar nicks before, I knew just how difficult that task can be. He applied the stain with confidence and ease, concealing the wear and restoring the surface. Had I not tried to do the same thing just weeks before, I probably wouldn’t have thought twice about it while passing him by on my way out into the rainy night. Instead, I was grateful for the opportunity to observe and learn.