Writer Henry James is often quoted as saying the two most beautiful words in the English language are "summer afternoon." Few would disagree. The words unravel visceral recollections of corn on the cob roasting over hot coals or a yellowing meadow on the horizon, haze rising with a din released by thousands of grasshoppers.
And if such pleasant memories can be compacted into the shortness of an afternoon, a summer getaway lasting a day, a week or all summer long is better yet.
For many, escaping to a second home for weekends or extended retreats is ideal: a beach cottage, mountain cabin, or rural farmette where "real life" concerns turn to just living, to making simple memories we call on again and again.
Two very distinct getaway homes, one on Gibson Island and the other in the foothills of the Blue Ridge Mountains, are perfect examples of such retreats.
On an island that is secluded and private, yet convenient to Baltimore, Washington, and Annapolis, we get away to a traditional, shingle-style home with a design that embraces a water-loving family's active lifestyle. Separated from the mainland by a narrow causeway, Gibson Island's charm is that it blends yesterday and today, evoking a time when kids ran freely and families met at the community club for crabcakes at the end of the day.
The house itself replicates that same charm. Traditional in the vernacular sense, the architecture is simple — executed with the sort of confidence that transcends gratuitous ornamentation and instead uses detail to delineate spaces more than decorate them.
When I first visited the house with architect Jeff Penza of Baltimore's Penza Bailey Architects, what struck me most were the views. Establishing much of the back wall of the house, a framework of large windows and French doors captured and emphasized the beauty of Otter Pond just outside the back door and the Chesapeake Bay beyond. I thought to myself, how nice of Penza to step aside and let the natural environment become the focal point of his design.
Of course the home is elegantly tailored. Wainscoting, molding, and trim profiles reflect the traditional shingle style, and the interiors effect a casual sophistication. But it's the views that take center stage. Penza and his clients agree, their favorite space in the house is the screened porch.
"It projects out on three sides," says Penza, "and feels as if it is at the water's edge. The views from that room are wonderful, and it's very restful and private even though it's the most exposed room in the house."
A weekend getaway to contrast the Gibson Island home in age, location, and style took me to northwestern Virginia for a visit with builder Tom Glass, owner of Glass Construction in Washington.
Captivated by the romance of buying a centuries-old home and remaking it as a retreat, Glass purchased a piece of land in Rappahannock County, Virginia, and then scoured the surrounding countryside on horseback talking to neighbors and landowners. When he found the perfect house, originally built by a Revolutionary War Captain in 1797, it was inconveniently located 150 miles away.
Undeterred by this minor hitch in his plan, Glass painstakingly dismantled the house, labeled the pieces, trucked them to his property, and then rebuilt the house to create a restful retreat. The renovation was complex, but the result offers a simple, almost austere rustic beauty that makes the house feel thoroughly modern despite its age.
Glass' farmhouse recalls images like those depicted in Maxfield Parrish paintings — a stark, white, angular structure set against the surrounding soft meadows and gnarled old trees. A juxtaposition of manmade and natural that feels almost surreal.
Inside, Glass lets history speak for itself. Instead of restoring the old millwork and paneling throughout the home to recreate the spaces as they may have looked when new in the 19th century, Glass decided to preserve what was there, coating the original paint and finishes with a water-based sealer that would prevent further deterioration. The result is an interior scheme that, while comfortable and chic, exists as an artifact of craftsmanship, materials, and finishes gone by.
Appealing as they are, though, second homes like these don't come without sacrifice.
To make them true getaways, the locations are often out of the way — that's part of the allure. There's also the maintenance associated with a house that is unoccupied most of the time, not to mention the stress of blizzards, lightning storms and flooding rains that occur while the house sits empty. Still, for many, the drawbacks pale in comparison to the overwhelming benefits of a special place just for getting away.
If you are fortunate enough to have such a place, you know what I'm talking about. If like me, you consider yourself lucky keeping up with just one house, might I suggest cultivating a friendship with someone who has a condo at the beach or a cabin in the woods. Perhaps the only thing better than owning a getaway home is being a guest at one.