I saw it on the Old House Web forum. I was going to build a satellite gazebo, but my dish was only an 8 footer so there wasn't that much room in it. Then I remembered her porch so I went back to her website and even tried to find more pictures of other sitting areas. Nothing came close to this. I don't have the funds to build a porch off of my back door so I think this will be a great solution and can put it in a better spot. I haven't been on the Garden Junk forum in a long time. I come back every now and again to read some of the posts. This is still a great site to find and share new ideas for the yard.

Lead in the glass acts as a flux and besides making it "soft" it also makes it clear... I don't believe you can have lead glass which is stained. Glass was made of different formulae over the years. Soda ash glass was pretty well the first formula, while it was clear is discolored.....and since magnesium was often used as a flux, it turned purple in the sunlight.....that's why the glass in the wonderful old houses in Boston are slightly purple. That old window glass was made my twirling it on a punty rod and the center formed a bulls eye often used for decoration. In fact there is a lot of "faux bullseye" glass in Europe today. When I was in Venice a few years back it was pointed out to our group that plastic "bulls eye glass" was in wide use. Colored glass used in "Stained glass" windows could either be painted or the glass itself could have certain minerals added as coloring agents. Stained, or colored glass was composed into a decorative pattern using lead cames, and the whole put into a wooden frame. Lead glass is most used for glassware, goblets, decanters and such....and for protective uses as lead deters radiation. My question was, are they just sheets of glass or windows with lead holding them together. Beveled glass windows and doors are called "leaded" not because of the lead content of the glass, but because of the cames which held them in place. Linda C

I lived in a ballroom for five years. It was part of an 1820 addition to a 1770's coaching inn in New England. The ballroom was 40' long by 20' wide, with a 16' high barrel vaulted ceiling. Lots of windows. Gorgeous honey-brown hemlock floor. Narrow kitchen and bath tucked in on one long side. Massive crown molding where the walls started to curve into the ceiling--made a ledge that my cats would perch on. Fireplace at each end. I loved living there. Watching the sunlight come in the windows at the east end in the morning and stretch all the way to the far wall 40' away, lighting up the floorboards. The mellow old brick wall at one end--originally the exterior of the inn, until the addition was put on. The space. The light. The openness. I'll admit, the first night in such a large space with the ceiling so high overhead was a bit odd. I felt sort of unprotected. But that feeling vanished very quickly. The building was brick, so not drafty. The landlord had put in modern, energy efficient windows and added a ton of insulation to the ceiling, as well as putting in a special energy efficient heating system, so it was not as bad to heat as I was afraid it would be. The big problem was the floor, which was, back in it's early days, some kind of special "sprung" flooring, with a bit of give for dancing. By the time I lived there, it creaked. Everywhere. Even when my cats walked on it. I put down area rugs everywhere, mostly to define living spaces, but also for the benefit of the tenants below me. Not that the rugs helped much. The other apartments were much more chopped up into little rooms, that would have been bedrooms and dining rooms and parlors in the original inn. One had the original kitchen fireplace, big enough for people to stand in, with bread ovens on the side. One had a cute little corner chimney, with shelves built-in over the fireplace. The building was L-shaped, with a kind of a courtyard in the back, where you could barely hear the traffic noise. Coming home after a hectic day's work, it was like entering a quieter time and place. I had always thought that I didn't like open-plan houses. What that apartment taught me was that I did like open-plan living spaces. What I don't like are open-plan kitchens. I loved the fact that the kitchen was in its own room, not visible from the rest of the space. I could leave dishes in the sink without feeling like I had to jump up and clean them. Cooking smells didn't permeate the entire space. I left there when I finished grad school and moved back closer to family. But I still miss it.

Thanks! I will read your site. That is one of the biggest challenges staying true. I bumped into a volunteer at the historical society but she said they didn't have anything on it. Something this old and knowing its history finding period photos may never happen. I suspect I will just have to pull back layers and I hope to find people on forums who are knowledgeable in that era of architecture to help me pin point out period features that are long gone as in the bell tower and porches. Its a project I can put 365 days into but finding that pot of green paper for the entry fee I feel may never happen but I cross everything every night!