View allAll Photos Tagged rake
I joined Eddie out at McIntosh for the sunset but it was being difficult and I knew that this would be my last shot at the carney and more tricks. Eddie bailed after shooting this but I waited because it was early for the carnival. This was shot after I worked on the pano. I decided to record that sky as long as I had the tripod set up. This was shot processed to be without HDR haloes an cement skies. That just ain't me and THIS sky probably does not need extra help. Those wild HDRs are all gamut and unprintable. I presented what details captured and I could create from Lightroom.
The sunset night is tonight so I decided to get back later and hope for a great sunset. I went out again in the evening and shot more photos on the chance of a good sunset. It will be another month before the sunset swings south to a better alignment. I suppose that I ought to consult the "Photographer's Ephemeris" to see when a great alignment happens but the extended shooting hours here only happen once a month. The sky cleared for a poor sunset but offered us a double rainbow. This view of the rake and the McIntosh/Lohr dairy barn toward northwest past Longmont. Eddie should have stuck around. The good specular rays didn't materialize again so I swung the camera around and found a good sky over the McIntosh barn. I'm all about skies!
This is the McIntosh-Lohr Farm Agricultural Museum on Highway #66, (not the same as Route #66). The unpainted barn was the McIntosh barn and the red one was the Dickens/Stroh barn moved in from the FAA property. Recently we have been graced with Typical June skies, so I am trying to take advantage of them. Today, served up more clouding and a promised a of today's 90s. I am choosing to edit and I am spending extra time on the best of the captures considering these abundant skies. I was just in time for the sky on that Sunday. I scored shots out here some years ago but the sky was a dud and I was using my old 5 megapixel D70. I have completely redone the interior shots with the D700.
The farm/museum is part way between Largemont and Hygiene, Colorado on state highway #66. I created a Photos Set for the McIntosh/Lohr Agricultural Museum.
Here's how I spent my afternoon. Whad you do today?
Shirt by Route 66 (K Mart)
Jeans by Wrangler
Boots by Nocona (Goodwill)
Rake from Walmart
Leaves from large tulip tree (above me)
Take a look at the wingtip. This is called "Raked wingtip" ボーイング787の翼は炭素繊維で作られており、翼端は、後退しながら先細りになっている変わった形状をしています。これは、Raked wingtipと呼ばれています。
Now have a back log of images. Shot my first portra film today also :D Slide development coming on tuesday ! Crossing my fingers they are not blank as the film has been expired for 10 years!
Spotted this radically raked Toyota from the late '70s at the Home Depot parking lot in Enfield, Connecticut.
A Lisu woman wearing a traditional embroidered apron and black turban raking paddy rice in Huang Lien He village.
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It is funny how we forget things we have done.
Below, I state that this was my first visit to the cathedral as a churchcrawler.
When I began to post shots, I looked for the album to put the shots in, only to find there wasn't one.
A search of my photostream showed two visits to the cathedral, complete with interior shots from 2013 and the previous years.
I had no memories of these visits.
What else have I forgotten?
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Norwich is a fine city. Or so the signs say on every road into it. But, and there can be no denying it, it is a jewel in the Norfolk countryside.
For me it is “just” Norwich Where used to go for our important shopping, for football and later for concerts. We, and I, would take for granted its cobbled streets, Norman cathedral and medieval churches by the dozen. Also it’s a pub for every day, the ramshackle market, and the Norman castle keep looking down on the city sprawled around.
Just Norwich.
Later, it also became where I bought new records from Backs in Swan Lane, and searched for punk classics in the Record and Tape Exchange.
Norwich is lucky that the industrial revolution passed by the city leaving few changes, the character and history intact. World War II did damage, some churches were abandoned, some rebuilt, but many survived.
And Norwich is a friendly city. It sees warm and colourful, and on a hot summer’s day when the locals were in shorts and t-shirts, much white flesh was on display. I also take the football club for granted. I have supported it from nearly 49 years, and being away from the city means I get my news and views largely second hand, but I also forget how central the club is to the people.
Other cities would have children dressed in any one of a dozen Premier League club’s replica shirts. In Norwich yellow and green was the dominant colour, even after a chastening season that saw us finish rock bottom of the league. The local sports “superstore” has a Norwich Fan’s fanzone, and a third of the window is given to the home city club.
I knew the city like the back of my hand, so knew the route I wanted to take to provide me with views that would refresh those in my mind. I didn’t dally, pressed on to my two targets, the Anglican Cathedral and St Peter Mancroft.
This wasn’t the original plan; that was to meet two friends I used to go to the football with, Ian and Ali, but they both caught a bug in Manchester watching the women’s Euros, so couldn’t meet with me. But I had an alternative plan, maybe with a pub stop or two.
The trip happened as I got a mail offering a tempting 20% off the trip that had been selling poorly, I checked with Ian and Alison, they said they were free, but had yet to fall ill. So seats were booked, as Jools liked the sound of an afternoon in Norwich and meeting my friends.
Up at quarter to five so we could catch the first High Speed service out of Dover, so to be in London in time to catch the railtour to Norwich.
Sun had yet to light up Dover Priory when we arrived, but a few people milling around, including two still at the end of their night out.
Folkestone was light by the warm light of the rising sun, and well worth a shot as we passed over Foord Viaduct.
Later, I was hoping the calm morning meant the Medway would be a mirror, but a breeze disturbed the surface ruining the reflections I had hoped for.
Finally, emerging into Essex, the line climbs as the go over the Dartford Crossing, just enough time to grab a shot.
It was already hot in London, so we stayed in the shade of the undercroft at St Pancras, had a coffee and a pasty from Greggs before walking over to Kings Cross to see if our tour was already at the buffers.
We walked across the road to King's Cross, and find the station packed with milling passengers, all eyes trained on the departure boards waiting for platform confirmations.
Ours was due to be platform 3, and the rake of carriages was indeed there, top and tailed by class 66 freight locomotives.
We get on the train and find we had been allocated a pair of seats nearest the vestibule. This meant that they were a few inches less wide than others, meaning Jools and I were jammed in.
Almost straight away, Jools's back and Achilles began to ache, and the thought of four hours of this in the morning and another four in the evening was too much, and so she decided to get off at the first stop at Potters Bar.
In the end, a wise choice I think.
The guy in the seat opposite to us talked the whole journey. I mean filling any silence with anything: how much he paid for the components of his lunch, his cameras and then his job. In great detail. He also collected train numbers. I didn't know that was really a thin in the days of EMUs, but I helped out from time to time telling him units he had missed.
We had a twenty minute break at Peterborough because of pathing issues, so we all got out to stretch our legs and do some extra trainspotting.
An Azuma left from the next platform, and another came in on the fast line. I snapped them both.
From Peterborough, the train reversed, and after the 20 minute wait, we went out of the station southwards, taking the line towards Ely.
Now that we had done our last stop, the train could open up and we cruised across the Fens at 70mph, the flat landscape botted with wind turbines and church towers slipped by.
Instead of going into Ely station, we took the rarely used (for passenger trains) freight avoiding line, now a single track. Emerging crossing the main line, taking the line eastwards towards Thetford.
Again, the regulator was opened, and we rattled along. Even so, the journey was entering its fourth hour, and with my travelling colleague and without Jools, time was dragging.
We were now back in Norfolk, passing the STANTA training area, all warning signs on the fences telling the trainee soldiers that that was where the area ended. I saw no soldiers or tanks. My only thought was of the rare flowers that would be growing there, unseen.
And so for the final run into Norwich, familiar countryside now.
Under the southern bypass and the main line from London, slowing down where the two lines merged at Trowse before crossing the River Wensum, before the final bend into Norwich Thorpe.
At last I could get off the train and stretch my legs.
Many others were also getting off to board coaches to take them to Wroxham for a cruise on the Broads, or a ride on the Bure Valley Railway, while the rest would head to Yarmouth for four hours at the seaside.
I got off the train and walked through the station, out into the forecourt and over the main road, so I could walk down Riverside Road to the Bishop’s Bridge, then from there into the Cathedral Close.
The hustle and bustle of the station and roadworks were soon left behind, as the only noise was from a family messing about in a rowing boat in front of Pulls Ferry and a swan chasing an Egyptian Goose, so the occasional splash of water.
I reached the bridge and passed by the first pub, with already many folks sitting out in the beer garden, sipping wines and/or summer beers. I was already hot and would loved to have joined them, but I was on a mission.
In the meantime, Jools had texted me and said if I fancied getting a regular service back home, then I should. And a seed grew in my brain. Because, on the way back, departing at just gone five, the tour had to have a 50 minute layover in a goods siding at Peterborough, and would not get back to Kings Cross until half nine, and then I had to get back to Dover.
I could go to the cathedral the church, walk back to the station. Or get a taxi, and get a train back to London at four and still be home by eight.
Yes.
I walked past the Great Hospital, then into the Close via the swing gate, round to the entrance where there was no charge for entry and now no charge for photography. But I would make a donation, I said. And I did, a tenner.
I have been to the cathedral a few times, but not as a churchcrawler. So, I made my way round, taking shots, drinking in the details. But the walk up had got me hot and bothered, I always run with a hot engine, but in summer it can be pretty damp. I struggled to keep my glasses on my nose, and as I went round I knew I was in no mood to go round again with the wide angle, that could wait for another visit.
The church is pretty much as built by the Normans, roof excepted which has been replaced at least twice, but is poetry in stone. And for a cathedral, not many people around also enjoying the building and its history.
At one, bells chimed, and I think The Lord’s Prayer was read out, we were asked to be quiet. I always am when snapping.
In half an hour I was done, so walked out through the west door, through the gate and into Tombland. I was heading for the Market and St Peter which site on the opposite side to the Guildhall.
I powered on, ignoring how warm I felt, in fact not that warm at all. The heat and sweats would come when I stopped, I found out.
I walk up the side of the market and into the church, and into the middle of an organ recital.
Should I turn round and do something else, or should I stop and listen. I stopped and listened.
Everyone should hear an organ recital in a large church. There is nothing quite like it. The organ can make the most beautiful sounds, but at the same time, the bass pipes making noises so deep you can only feel it in your bones.
Tony Pinel knew his way round the organ, and via a video link we could see his hands and feet making the noises we could hear. It was wonderful, but quite how someone can play one tune with their feet and another with their hands, and pulling and pushing knobs and stoppers, is beyond me. But glad some people can.
It finished at quarter to two, and I photograph the font canopy and the 15th century glass in the south chapel. Font canopies are rare, there is only four in England, and one of the others is in Trunch 20 miles to the north. Much is a restoration, but it is an impressive sight when paired with the seven-sacrament font under it.
The glass is no-less spectacular, panels three feet by two, five wide and stretching to the vaulted roof. I can’t photograph them all, but I do over 50%.
I go to the market for a lunch of chips, for old times sake. I mean that was the treat whenever we went either to Norwich or Yarmouth; chips on the market. I was told they no longer did battered sausage, so had an un-battered one, and a can of pop. I stood and ate in the alleyway between stalls, people passing by and people buying chips and mushy peas of their own.
Once done, I had thought of getting a taxi back to the station, but the rank that has always been rammed with black cabs was empty, and two couples were shouting at each other as to who should have the one that was there. So I walked to the station, across Gentleman’s Walk, along to Back of the Inns, then up London Street to the top of Prince of Wales Road and then an easy time to the station across the bridge.
I got my ticket and saw a train to Liverpool Street was due to depart at 14:32. In three minutes.
I went through the barrier and got on the train, it was almost empty in the new, swish electric inter-city unit. I was sweating buckets, and needed a drink, but there appeared to be no buffet, instead just electric efficiency and silence as the train slid out of the station and went round past the football ground to the river, then taking the main line south.
In front of me, two oriental ladies talked for the whole journey. I listened to them, no idea what they talked about to fill 105 minutes.
I thought it would be nearly five when the train got in, but helped by only stopping at Diss, Ipswich, Manningtree and Colchester we got in, on time, at quarter past four.
I walked to the main concourse and down into the Circle Line platforms, getting a train in a couple of minutes the four stops to St Pancras. I knew there was a train soon leaving, and after checking the board and my watch I saw I had five minutes to get along the length of the station and up to the Southeastern platforms.
I tried. I did, but I reached the steps up to the platforms and I saw I had 45 seconds, no time to go up as they would have locked the doors. So, instead I went to the nearby pub and had a large, ice-cold bottle of Weiss beer.
That was better.
I was all hot and bothered again, but would have an hour to cool down, and the beer helped.
At ten past five, I went up and found the Dover train already in, I went through the barriers and took a seat in a carriage I thought would stop near the exit at Dover Priory. I called Jools to let her know I would be back at quarter to seven, and she confirmed she would pick me up.
She was there, people got off all out on a night on the town, dressed in shiny random pieces of fabric covering boobs and bottoms. I was young once, I thought.
Jools was there, she started the car and drove us home via Jubilee Way. Across the Channel France was a clear as anything, and four ferries were plying between the two shores. Take us home.
Once home, Jools had prepared Caprese. I sliced some bread and poured wine. On the wireless, Craig spun funk and soul. We ate.
Tired.
It was going to be a hot night, but I was tired enough to sleep through it. Or so I thought.
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Norwich has everything. Thus, the normally dry and undemonstrative Nikolaus Pevsner began his survey of the capital of Norfolk in his 1962 volume Buildings of England: Norwich and north-east Norfolk. And there is no doubt that this is one of the best cities of its size in northern Europe. Living in Ipswich as I do, I hear plenty of grumbles about Norwich; but really, although the two places have roughly the same population, Ipswich cannot even begin to compare with regard to its townscape. The only features which the capital of Suffolk can claim to hold above its beautiful northern neighbour are a large central park (Norwich's Chapelfield gardens is not a patch on Ipswich's Christchurch Park) and a large body of water in the heart of the town, perhaps Ipswich's most endearing feature and greatest saving grace.
But Norwich has everything else - to continue Pevsner's eulogy, a cathedral, a castle on a mound right in the middle, walls and towers, a medieval centre with winding streets and alleys, thirty-five medieval parish churches and a river with steamships. It even has hills...
I think it would be possible to visit Norwich and not even know this cathedral was there. The centre of the city is dominated by the castle, and the most familiar feature to visitors is the great market square widened by the clearances of the 1930s, and the fine City Hall built at that time which towers above it. In comparison, Norwich Cathedral sits down in a dip beside the river, walled in by its close, and is visible best from outside the city walls, especially from the east on the riverside, and to the north from Mousehold Heath. If you arrive by road from the south or west, you may not even catch a glimpse of it. The great spire is hidden by those winding streets and alleys, and many of the city's churches are more visible, especially St Giles, St Peter Mancroft in the Market Place, and the vast Catholic Cathedral of St John the Baptist, on Grapes Hill. It is said that the nave floor of St John the Baptist is at the same height above sea level as the top of the crossing of the Anglican cathedral.
With the possible exception of Lincoln Cathedral, I think that Norwich Cathedral is my favourite cathedral in all England. Call this East of England chauvinism if you like, But Norwich Cathedral has everything you could possible want from a great medieval building. But there is more to it than that. It is also one of the most welcoming cathedrals in England. There is no charge for admission, and they positively encourage you to wander around through the daily business of the cathedral, in the continental manner. No boards saying Silence Please - Service in Progress here. Because of this, the Cathedral becomes an act of witness in itself, and you step into what feels like it probably really is the house of God on Earth. They even used to say the Lord's Prayer over the PA system once an hour, and invite you to stop and join in - I wish they'd go back to doing that. The three pounds you pay for a photography permit must be one of the bargains of the century so far.
Norwich Cathedral is unusual, in that this is the original building. It has been augmented over the centuries of course, but this is still essentially the very first cathedral on this site. This is because the see was only moved to Norwich after the Norman invasion. The Normans saw the wisdom of drawing together ecclesiastical and civil power, and one way in which this might be achieved was by siting the cathedrals in the hearts of important towns. At the time of the conquest, Bishop Herfast had his seat at Thetford, and it was decided to move the see to Bury St Edmunds in Suffolk. It had moved several times during the previous four centuries, from Walton in Suffolk to North Elmham in Norfolk before Thetford, where the first proper but simple stone building had been raised. But as well as an eye for efficient administration, the Normans brought the idea that Cathedrals should be glorified; already, vast edifices were being raised in Durham, London and Ely. and Bury St Edmunds, with its famous Abbey, was the obvious place for the Diocese of East Anglia to sit.
However, such a move would have removed the Abbey's independent direct line with Rome, and placed it under the jurisdiction of the Province of Canterbury. The Abbey community was determined that this would not happen, and Abbot Baldwin sent representations to the Pope that ensured the survival of St Edmundsbury Abbey's independence. Bishop Herfast would not be allowed to glorify his position in East Anglia in the way his colleagues were doing elsewhere. But his successor, Herbert de Losinga, was more determined - and, perhaps, steeled by his conscience. A Norman, he had bought the Bishopric from the King in 1091, an act of simony that required penance. Building a great cathedral could be seen as that act of penance. But where? Bury was a lost cause; instead, he chose to move the see to a thriving market town in the north-east of his Diocese; a smaller, more remote place than Bury, to be sure, but proximity to the Abbey of St Edmund was perhaps not such a good thing anyway. It tended to cast a rather heavy shadow. And so it was that the great medieval cathedral of the East Anglian bishops came to be built, instead, at Norwich.
Work began in 1094, and seems to have been complete by 1145. It is one of the great Romanesque buildings of northern Europe, its special character a result of responses to fires and collapses over the course of the next few centuries. At the Reformation in the sixteenth century, it became a protestant cathedral of the new Church of England, losing its role as a setting for ancient sacraments and devotions, but being maintained as the administrative seat of a Diocese which covered all of Norfolk and Suffolk, and the ceremonial church of its great city. In the 19th Century, the western part of the Norwich Diocese was transferred into that of Ely, and at the start of the 20th Century the southern parishes became part of the new Diocese of St Edmundsbury and Ipswich. Today, the Diocese of Norwich consists of north, south and east Norfolk, and the north-eastern tip of Suffolk.
The absence of this great church from the Norfolk Churches site has long been the elephant in the room, so to speak. And having it here at last is, I feel, a mark of how things have changed. When I first started the Norfolk and Suffolk sites back in 1999, I did not have a decent camera, and the earliest entries did not have any photographs at all. How the wheel has turned. Now, the photographs have become the sites, and with no apologies I don't intend to make this a wordy entry.
The perfection of Norwich is of distant views, the cloisters, and the interior. The exterior is hemmed in, and the most familiar part of the building, the west front, is a poor thing, the victim of barbarous restorations in the 18th and 19th centuries. It is almost a surprise to step through its mundanity into the soaring glory of the nave. Above, the famous vaulting is home to one of the largest collections of medieval bosses in the world. There are more in the beautiful cloisters.
The view to the east is of the great organ, looking very 17th Century but actually the work of Stephen Dykes Bower in the 1950s. Beyond is the intimacy of the quire and ambulatory with its radial chapels, the best of which is St Luke's chapel, containing the Despenser retable. Bishop Despenser is one of history's villains, putting down the Peasants Revolt in East Anglia with some enthusiasm. It is likely that this retable was made for the cathedral's high altar, possibly even to give thanks for the end of the Revolt. It was discovered upside down in use as a table in the 1840s. This chapel is, unusually, also a parish church; the parish of St Mary in the Marsh, the church of which was demolished at the Reformation, moved into the cathedral. They brought their seven sacrament font with them, and here it remains.
In the ambulatory there are many traces of medieval paint, almost certainly from the original building of the Cathedral. Two curiosities: at the back of the apse is the original Bishop's chair, and rising across the north side of the ambulatory like a bridge is a relic screen.
There is a good range of glass dating from the 14th to the 21st centuries. Highlights include the medieval panels in the north side of the ambulatory, Edward Burne-Jones's bold figures in the north transept, Moira Forsyth's spectacular Benedictine window of 1964 in a south chapel, and the millennium glass high in the north transept, which I think will in time become one of the defining features of the Cathedral. The figure of the Blessed Virgin with the Christ Child seated on her lap is the work of Norfolk-based artist John Hayward, who died recently, but the glass above is Hayward's reworking of Keith New's 1960s glass for St Stephen Walbrook in London, removed from there in the 1980s, and now reset here. Towards the west end of the nave are two sets of Stuart royal arms in glass, a rare survival.
I grew up in a city some sixty miles away from Norwich, but I didn't come here until I was in my mid-teens. I remember wandering around this building and being blown away by it, and I still get that feeling today. There is always something new to find here. My favourite time here is first thing in the morning on a winter Saturday. Often, I can be the only visitor, which only increases the awe. Another time I like to be here in winter is on a Saturday afternoon for choral evensong. Perhaps best of all, though, is to wander and wonder in the cloisters on a bright sunny day, gazing at fabulous bosses almost within arm's reach.
Several English cathedrals have good closes, but Norwich's is the only one in a major city, I think. It creates the sense of an ecclesiastical village at the heart of the city; and then, beyond, the lanes and alleys spread out, still hanging on despite German bombing and asinine redevelopment. And now I think perhaps it is part of the beauty of this building that it is tucked away by the river, a place to seek out and explore. Norwich has everything, says Pevsner. But really, I think this is the very best thing of all.
www.norfolkchurches.co.uk/norwichcathedral/norwichcathedr...
ODC-Yardwork (watercolour processing)
That's me, raking up some debris along the edge of the herb garden. We have a nice variety of herbs this year. We have 3 kinds of basil, some thyme, oregano, tarragon garlic chives as well as some tomatoes. I love that it's only steps away from my back door. I can just walk out snip some herbs and add them to my dishes. It's a great way to avoid using salt in your food for flavour.
Thank You for any comments/faves you wish to leave me, I do appreciate them all.
Have A Terrific Tuesday and Get Outside And Clean Up That Yard! :)
Jo :)
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Thank you to everyone who pauses long enough to look at my photo. All comments and Faves are very much appreciated
The commuter rake I debuted at Brickvention. I'll try to get better photos soon.
Thanks to talltim for help and James Mathis for the swivel wheels.
2010 National Hardware Show
Please feel free to use these photos but please provide attribution and link to www.charlesandhudson.com
DC city workers rake fallen leaves on Church Street NW, in the 14th Street / Shaw / Logan neighborhoods of Washington, DC.
Built in 1903-1905, this Prairie-style mansion was designed by Frank Lloyd Wright for Larkin Company executive Darwin D. Martin, whom built the house as a way to bring his family, which had been scattered in various parts of the United States when his mother had died early in his childhood. The house was the culmination of immense personal wealth and professional success that Martin had enjoyed in his life despite his difficult childhood, starting as a soap seller in New York City, being hired by the Larkin Company in 1878, before moving to Buffalo and becoming the single office assistant to John D. Larkin in 1880, and in 1890, replaced Elbert Hubbard, who was a person that Martin immensely admired, as the Corporate Secretary of the Larkin Company. When the Larkin Company was seeking a designer for a major new office building for the company at the turn of the 20th Century, Martin, whom had witnessed Wright’s work in Chicago and Oak Park, wished to hire the architect as the designer of the new building, but needed to convince the skeptical John D. Larkin and other executives at the company of Wright’s suitability for the project. As a result, Martin decided to have Wright design his family estate. Darwin D. Martin became such a close friend of Wright that he commissioned the family’s summer house, Graycliff, located south of Buffalo on the shores of Lake Erie, to be designed by Wright in 1926, and spearheaded the effort to assist Wright with his finances when his personal residence, Taliesin, was threatened with foreclosure in 1927.
The main house is made up of four structures, those being the house itself, which sits at the prominent southeast corner of the property closest to the intersection of Summit Avenue and Jewett Parkway of any structure on the site, the pergola, which is a long, linear covered porch structure that runs northwards from the center of the house, the conservatory, which sits at the north end of the pergola and features a statue of the Winged Victory of Samothrace, which is visible from the front entrance to the house down the long visual axis created by the pergola, and the carriage house, which sits immediately west of the conservatory and behind the west wing of the house, enclosing the rear of the house’s main garden.
On the grounds of the mansion are two other houses, those being the Barton House, built at the northeast corner of the property along Summit Avenue to house Darwin D. Martin’s sister, Delta Martin Barton, and her husband, George F. Barton, which was the first structure to be built on the property and very visually similar to the main house, using the same type of bricks and incorporating many smaller versions of features found on the main house, and the Gardener’s cottage, built in 1909 to house gardeners who maintained the grounds of the property, which is the smallest and plainest of the three houses, which is sandwiched into a narrow strip of the property between two other houses, fronting Woodward Avenue to the west.
The main house features a buff roman brick exterior with raked horizontal mortar joints and filled in vertical joints, giving the masonry the appearance of being made of a series of solid horizontal bands with recessed joints, accentuating the horizontal emphasis of the house’s design and creating texture with shadows. The roof is hipped with wide overhanging eaves, with the gutters draining into downspouts that drop water into drain basins atop various one-story pillars at the corners of the house, with the roof having a T-shaped footprint above the second floor and three separate sections above the first floor, which wrap around the second floor to the south, west, and north, with the roof soaring above a porte-cochere to the west of the house, as well as a separate roof suspended above a porch to the east. The house’s roof is supported by pillars that sit near, but not at the corners of the building, with windows wrapping the corners. The windows are framed by stone sills and wooden trim, with some windows featuring stone lintels. The front door is obscured inside a recessed porch on the front facade, with the tile walkway to the door turning 90 degrees upon its approach to the doorway, a quite common feature of many of Wright’s houses at the time. The house is surrounded by a series of low brick walls with stone bases and stone caps, with sculptural decorative stone planters atop the pillars at the ends of many of these walls, with some of the planters containing carefully chosen decorative vegetation, and others serving as semi-hidden drainage basins for the adjacent one-story roofs.
Inside, the house features a foyer with a head-on view of the pergola and the conservatory to the north, simple but finely crafted wooden trim elements, the beautiful Wisteria Mosaic Fireplace between the foyer and dining room on the first floor that reflects light in different ways via various types of tile with different types of glazing, rough plaster painted a variety of colors, careful use of shadow to highlight certain elements while obscuring others, art glass windows featuring stained glass and clear glass panes in decorative patterns, wooden built ins and Frank Lloyd Wright-designed furnishings, a large kitchen with lots of white surfaces and wooden cabinets overlooking the garden, a living room with a vaulted ceiling and brick fireplace featuring an arched hearth opening, extensive use of expansion and compression via ceiling height to drive movement through the space, ventilation ducts that can be operated via decorative casement windows at the pillars ringing the various spaces of the house, wooden screens to obscure the staircase and second floor, custom light fixtures, art glass ceiling panels, and five large doors with art glass lights to the eastern porch on the first floor. The second floor of the house has multiple bedrooms with a variety of Frank Lloyd Wright built-in and freestanding furniture, wooden trim, and multiple bathrooms. The house is further decorated with Japanese art pieces procured by Wright in Japan, as well as being heavily inspired by traditional Japanese architecture, with usage of shadow and light to obscure and highlight different features, as well as the general form of the house, with the wide eaves providing ample shade to the interior during the summer months, while still allowing light to easily enter the space during the darker winter months.
To the north of the main house is an approximately 90-foot-long pergola with evenly spaced brick pillars framing the tile walkway, decorative wooden trim on the ceiling at each column, light fixtures at each column, and a glass transom and a door with large glass lights and a narrow frame providing a nearly unobstructed view of the interior of the conservatory at the north end of the pergola, focusing the attention of visitors upon their entrance to the house, as the conservatory and pergola form a continual visual axis from the foyer to the statue of the Winged Victory of Samothrace that stands in the northern end of the conservatory. This entire section of the house was rebuilt during its restoration, having been demolished in the 1960s after falling into disrepair. The pergola features a gabled roof that terminates at the bonnet roof around the perimeter of the conservatory to the north and at the first floor hipped roof of the house to the south.
The conservatory sits at the north end of the pergola, and has a latin cross footprint, with a glass skylight roof with a gabled section running north-south and a pyramidal hipped section at the crossing. The skylight terminates at a parapet that surrounds it on all sides, which features distinctive and decorative “birdhouses” at the north and south ends, apparently intended to house Blue Martins, but were not designed appropriately for the specific needs of the species, and have thus never been occupied. Two of the birdhouses survived the decay and demolition of the original conservatory in the 1960s, and were prominently displayed atop a wall in front of the house until the restoration of the complex in 2007. The interior of the conservatory features only a few concrete planters flanking the walkways and below the large Winged Victory of Samothrace that sits in the northern alcove of the space, with this apparently not having been what the Martin family had in mind, leading to the erection of a prefabricated conventional greenhouse made of metal and glass to the west of the Carriage House shortly after the house’s completion. The conservatory utilizes the same small tile on the floor as other areas of the house, with suspended wooden trim frames breaking up the large void of the space into smaller sections, supporting the space’s light fixtures and carefully framing the planters, fountain, and sculpture.
To the west of the conservatory is the two-story Carriage House, which features a simple pyramidal hipped roof with wide overhanging eaves, recessed corner pillars with central sections featuring wrap-around bands of windows on the second floor, a large carriage door in the center of the south facade, flanked by two smaller pillars and two small windows, and a one-story rear wing with a hipped roof. The interior presently houses a gift shop, but is set up like the original structure, demolished in the 1960s, would have been, with horse stables, red brick walls, a utility sink, and a simple staircase to the upper floor.
The house complex was home to the Martin family until 1937, when, owing to financial difficulties brought on by the loss of the family fortune during the 1929 Black Friday stock market crash and Darwin D. Martin’s death in 1935, the house had become too difficult for the family to maintain, with the family abandoning the house, allowing it to deteriorate. Additionally, Isabelle Reidpath Martin, Darwin’s widow, did not like the house’s interior shadows, which made it difficult for her to see. D.R. Martin, Darwin’s son, tried to donate the house to the City of Buffalo and the State University of New York system for use as a library, but neither entity accepted the offer, and the house remained empty until 1946, when it was taken by the city due to back taxes. In 1951, the house was purchased by the Roman Catholic Diocese of Buffalo, which intended to convert the house into a summer retreat for priests, similar to the contemporaneous sale of Graycliff by the Martin family to the Piarists, a Catholic order. However, the property languished until 1955, when it was sold to architect Sebastian Tauriello, whom worked hard to save the architecturally significant and by-then endangered property, hoping the house would avoid the fate that had befallen the Larkin Administration Building five years prior. The house was subdivided into three apartments, with the carriage house, pergola, and conservatory demolished and the rear yard sold, and two uninspired apartment buildings with slapped-on Colonial Revival-style trim known as Jewett Gardens Apartments, were built to the rear of the house. In 1967, the University at Buffalo purchased the house, utilizing it as the university president’s residence, with the Barton House and Gardener’s Cottage being parceled off, both converted to function as independent single-family houses. The university attempted to repair the damage from years of neglect and did some work to keep the house functioning, modernizing portions of the interior and returning several pieces of original furniture to the house. The house would exist in this condition for the next half-century.
In 1975, the house was listed on the National Register of Historic Places, and in 1986, was listed as a National Historic Landmark. In 1992, the nonprofit Martin House Restoration Corporation was founded with the goal of eventually restoring the historically and architecturally significant complex, and opening it as a museum. In 1994, the organization purchased the Barton House, and had the Martin House donated by the University of Buffalo in 2002. The restoration of both houses began under the direction of Hamilton Houston Lownie Architects shortly thereafter, and the Jewett Gardens Apartments were demolished upon the acquisition of the site by the nonprofit around the turn of the millennium. In 2006, the Gardener’s cottage was purchased from private ownership, and work began to rebuild the lost Pergola, Conservatory, and Carriage House, which were completed in 2007. Additional work to restore the house continued over the next decade, restoring the various interior spaces, with extensive work being put in to restore the kitchen and bedrooms. Finally, in 2017, the last part of the house was restored, being the beautiful Wisteria Mosaic Fireplace between the dining room and foyer, which had been extensively altered. An addition to the grounds, located on the former rear yard of an adjacent house, is the contemporary, sleek glass and steel-clad Eleanor & Wilson Greatbatch Pavilion Visitor Center, designed by Toshiko Mori, with a cantilevered roof that appears to float and tapers to thin edges, with glass walls on three sides, which houses the visitor information desk, ticket sales, presentation space, a timeline of the Martin House’s history, and restrooms. The restoration of the house marks one of the first full reconstructions of a demolished Frank Lloyd Wright structure, and is one of several significant works by the architect in Buffalo, including three designs that were built posthumously in the early 21st Century - the Fontana Boat House in Front Park, the Tydol Filling Station at the Buffalo Transportation Pierce Arrow Museum, and the Blue Sky Mausoleum at Forest Lawn Cemetery, which was designed for the Martin family in 1928, but not built until 2004.
Today, the restored Darwin D. Martin House complex serves as a museum, allowing visitors to experience one of the largest Prairie-style complexes designed by Frank Lloyd Wright, faithfully restored to its circa 1907 appearance, giving visitors a sense of the genius and design philosophy of Wright.
Image by Ted Van Pelt
Built in the early 19th century Rakes Mill Pond was the brainchild of Jarman Rakes. Rakes Mill Pond is a dammed up pond and creates a swamp similar to what a beaver dam would do. The pond is located just past Mile Marker 163 going south on the Blue Ridge Parkway. You can pull out and park on site. Walk down to the dam and put your hand in the water. You will see a 15 foot water fall.