I especially like the note about the craftsmanship evident in these old homes, the levels of which are pretty much unseen today.  There’s something to be said for a century old home that suffered years of negligence and is still standing *cough cough*.

2.  The Atlanta Cyclorama needs some attention too.

How much, Bo Emerson writes, is up for contention. Ignore me for a few minutes and read the article about a gigantic painting’s upkeep.  Somehow, it’s riveting.  Go on–I’ll wait.

Now that you’ve read it, you should know this: I love the Cyclorama.  Seriously, it is the craziest and most bizarre relic in town, and you should go see it right now.  I’ll wait again.

See?!  Awesome.  If it induces vertigo, it’s a success. 

The article also touches on an issue we experience ourselves–what to do about ill-advised additions over the years. When historical accuracy is the goal, there’s no such thing as a good addition, and the best 1980 has to offer is often 2008’s problem.  Tricky!

3.  Remember the Crum and Forster building?

The Georgia Historic Trust’s “Places in Peril” list did, much like they remembered the Wren’s Nest in 2007. This is good news for historic preservation enthusiasts like us, and for Atlanta overall.

Preserving history > parking lot.

Anything else we missed?  Let me know.

As we’ve mentioned many times previously (1,2), the Wren’s Nest basement is a wonderland of mystery.

Sure, there are useful things down there, even historic things.  Problem is, it is mighty hard to find and identify these worthwhile items among the mountains and valleys of garbage and treachery.

So we decided to get ‘em out of there.

Our unwanted items will be seeking temporary residence in this POD, the likes of which I am noticing everywhere now that I know they exist.  I love it when that happens.

Anyhow, with our Board Chair Marshall at the helm and several community service workers doing the dirty (well, dusty) work, we have managed to open up gateways to parts of the basement previously unreachable.

Clearing out all the junk revealed a filled-in fireplace.  Neat.

But, if I know anything about our basement–and I think I do–this fireplace probably leads to unseen realms or something terrifying like that.  Nannie doesn’t refuse to go down there for nothing.

Speaking of terrifying, all of this de-cluttering has really shined a light on our DIY foundations.

This legitimately may be holding me up right now.  We’re about to enact a museum-wide No Jumping rule.

Here’s the bottom.  Notice the brick-thingy-as-anchor.   I feel so safe right now.

This is just the tip of the iceberg; the potential for unfathomable depths of garbage is very, very high.

We’ll be sure to keep you up to date on our findings.

One of the most challenging aspects of this job is figuring out how to fix up a (benignly) neglected house on the National Historic Register.

As far as I can tell, there are two steps:

1. Raise enough money to do what you want (check, almost).
2. Surround yourself with folks who are smarter than you.

And while #2 will guarantee that from time to time those people will look at you like you’re an idiot, it’s worth it.

Yesterday we were lucky enough to have Tom and Gene from Surber, Barber, Choate and Hertlein take a look at our place …again.

Our basement is a labyrinth of different foundations, each with different bricks, mortars, paints, and states of (dis)repair.

The architects reviewed each aspect of our little restoration with a contractor to confirm the estimates outlined in our budget, which was initially performed by a professional cost estimator.

It’s a good thing, too.  Just when you think you’ve got a budget in place, you uncover some new stuff.

On the eastern (and less traversed) side of the Wren’s Nest, the paint isn’t in good shape.  But it’s in better shape on either side of each window. See how it’s a little brighter on either side?

That means that there were once shutters there.

…which we found in an obscure portion of the basement, not having noticed them before.

So, now, my job is to look in our restoration notebooks to figure out (a) if these shutters were original, (b) why they aren’t on the house anymore, and (c) would it be worth it to restore ‘em and put ‘em back on the house.

And it’s always encouraging to discover how the duct work was put in in exactly the wrong spot.

See how, just above the N in Nest, the wood was cut to make way for that duct?  Apparently that’s bad news.

The moral is, we’ve got a lot on our plate.  Little things, big(ger) things, things that I have trouble remembering.   Unfortunately, none of them seem to be fixable by throwing wads of singles in their general direction.

Next up: a meeting with a contractor, a mechanical engineer, and an historic brick expert.  Wahoo!

Received at 10:13pm last night from our often trivia-playing friend Travis.:

Who is tar baby and what did he stand for?

Our goal here at the Nest is to educate, so naturally we’re jazzed anytime folks show interest in getting the full story.  But oh sweet heavens was that a challenge.

Text message?  Really?

Lain valiantly replied with the following:

Text 1: Tar baby was a trap set on the side of the road by brer fox to trick brer rabbit.  Brer rabbit represents the black slave who must rely on his wits

Text 2: The t baby was dressed to allure b rabbit.  Some interpret it as a woman to attract him, others as a fellow slave who wont follow plantation etiquette

Text 3: When t baby does not say howdy back b rabbit reacts with violence.  The more he hits the t baby the worse his situation gets.  He only escapes via trickery, his wit

Ta da! Travis partially redeemed himself later by writing, and I quote, “Lain, you are nothing short of ‘The Man’”.  Unfortunately, Lain was too busy massaging his thumbs to notice.

Yesterday the staff of the Wren’s Nest received a bottle of Brer Rabbit Molasses in the mail.

Who knew characters in Joel Chandler Harris stories had such a corner on the pancake market?

Miss Nannie, one of our docents, got all excited when she saw our new acquisition.  She explained that her family used molasses all the time when she was growing up in the red hills of Alabama.

Her family was too poor to afford butter, so they’d mix the molasses with bacon grease and spread it on biscuits.

Now the only sweetening Nannie needs is a few tablespoons of sugar per ounce of beer.  Delicious.

But most importantly, thank you, Kirk, frequent blog commenter and member of the Wren’s Nest, for sending it over!  We’re going to make Brer Rabbit Molasses Ginger Bread Cookies for the Family Reunion tomorrow.