Dreams Come True!

Okay, I’m being a bit dramatic here. But after waiting 14 years, the cheap metal roof that was on my 18th-century home is FINALLY going away.

Ever since I purchased “the oldest house in Rupert,” as the locals have always called it, I have wanted to replace the roof. It just wasn’t in keeping with the house’s pre-Revolutionary War history. Ideally, I wanted cedar shakes, but that was costly — and wasn’t very practical with our Vermont winters. I didn’t even dare to entertain a thatched roof. (Only joking!)

Sigh.

I looked into fake cedar shakes, but I wasn’t quite sure how they would hold up. I finally decided on a composite slate in a gray color. Fingers crossed that it will look as good as I am envisioning it to look. I did have to make one compromise. My husband who is a fan of standing seam metal roofs (I am trying hard to refrain how I feel about them…let’s just say, I am an 18th century purist, metal roofs did not exist then!), insisted that metal would be better suited for the low pitch of the porch roof. I have seen other homes in the area where slate and metal coexist nicely. And so, I gave in to the idea of metal on the porch roof. Admittedly, it does make sense as the snow can slide off nicely in the winter.

As the workers began their work I was in shock to see that beneath the ugly cheap metal roof (can you tell that I really HATE that roof), are brown asphalt shingles that look like wooden shakes. I am drooling. Already, the house looks 100% better. Now I am rethinking my decision to go with a gray slate…perhaps I should have just gone with a brown shingle. Oh the decisions!

Whatever the outcome, I am just filled with joy that finally that ugly metal roof will be history, and my little home will once again exude with Colonial charm, not only on the inside, but now on the outside.

And this note is to alway say, the roof work has delayed a new episode of Olde Stone Well Farm. I am just too excited to focus on filming…and anyway, you wouldn’t be able to hear a word I say with all the banging going on — and barking. Fritz is not handling the ruckus very well.

Blessings!