Today my stepfather loaded up the dogs and went out to our summerhouse to make sure, as he does about this time each winter, that it hasn’t slipped into the Atlantic. Then, also today, I came across a post on this blog about handmade houses, the second-half of which, with it’s obvious sheetrock and lived-in clutter, reminded me of the very same house and my own 70s hippies’s can-do attitudes. Good job, guys.
[Unfortunately, it seems my only pictures of the place are just stupid dog photos and beach photos, so suffice to say this isn't my house. It's pretty good though. It's from a book called Woodstock Handmade Houses. They're scanned in here.]