Restored from lost archive. Original post date: May 7, 2005. Note re photos: I have looked myself silly for the disk containing photos during an May-July, 2005 time period, to no avail. I decided, finally, to scan the missing photos that were in the original posts and see whether it would be better or worse to include them. They turned out better than I expected, so they’re in. At least this way, if I ever do find the originals, it will be a simple matter to replace the scanned versions.
Carports and breezeways were once common features of the American residential landscape. But homeowners associations, smaller lots, and the perceived need for ever larger garages to hold all our “stuff” has caused carports to follow the route of the passenger pigeon.
I have happy memories of time spent in carports that were used for picnic tables, ping pong games, and playing hopscotch.
And what a luxury in a summer rain to park in the carport, and walk through a covered breezeway into the house, still feeling the breeze and smelling that heavy, rich rain smell, hair curling from the humidity but otherwise dry.
The framers – John, Paul and Daniel – starting building our carport and breezeway yesterday. Buck and I watched as they started with the bare slab, wondering how on earth they would make it happen. It sounded like something large and angry with a mouth full of teeth when they cut through the corner of the existing house to attach the breezeway post and beam. That’s the corner right by my desk, where I was trying to enjoy a breakfast of toasted whole wheat English muffin and fresh blackberries!
Wiry Paul tugs on a truss.