Pargetting can be very bold in concept & execution, as seen in this example.

Pargetting is one of the less-common elements found in Tudor and Elizabethan buildings. Perhaps the inherent nature of exterior plasterwork and its comparative durability vs. brick, timber and stone makes this inevitable - but there are still existing examples to be found dating from the 16th and 17th centuries. New or old, it is always a delightful feature whenever it is found.

Any number of natural or stylized designs and motifs can be found in plaster.

The term Pargetting derives from the word 'parget', an old Middle English term that is probably derived from the ancient French 'pargeter' / 'parjeter', which means to to throw about, or 'porgeter'- to roughcast a wall. With the ‘wattle and daub’ method of construction (since pargetting is really best suitable for a lathed and timbered backing) the craft became an important and integral part of the building trade until bricks became more freely available. The term is more usually applied only to the decoration in relief of the plastering between the studwork on the outside of half-timber houses, or sometimes covering the whole wall.


In some cases, the pargetter would press the moulds of wet plaster (usually a mixture of slaked lime, sand, hair and the inevitable ‘secret ingredient’, known only to individual craftsmen) to the house exterior until it was fixed. In other examples, the ornate plasterwork is done in-situ totally freehand, in the still-wet lime render. In this case, the work is roughly outlined with a small trowel and then built up with the addition of hair in the lime plaster.

A particularly exuberant example of exterior pargetting.

The work is then brushed back into the wall to smooth it out and finally finished with a lime wash. Pargetting patterns came in a variety of forms including friezes (using ribbons of chevrons, scallops, fantails or dots); often there are overall frames enclosing motifs, geometrical or floral designs, and coats of arms. Occasionally devices were stamped on the wet plaster in varying degrees of relief, and work in the time of Elizabeth I of England will often represent figures, birds and foliage.

Today's craftsmen carry on an ages-old tradition. (Courtesy of The Pargetting Company)

Today, the Pargetter's art is kept alive by experienced craftsmen like Bill Sargent, based in Mid-Suffolk, who has been practicing pargetting and decorative plasterwork since the 1960's. Amongst the highest regarded pargetters in the country, Bill's work can be seen in Suffolk, Essex, Kent and Norfolk. He handles most all areas of Conservation Plasterwork and pargetting (also spelled pargeting) including conservation plastering for listed buildings, Lime washing, Lime plastering (mouldings etc.) Arches, Lime floors and Brick stone and slate work.

Note: This article was recently updated with new images, due to the fact that the original featured a gallery hosted on Jux.com, which was shut down a few years ago.

Let me first come clean and explain that I am not really a wine enthusiast. I do drink and enjoy it at times; usually at a meal, when paired with the right food. When my wife and I travelled to Napa a couple of years ago, I loved the wineries. I loved sampling the wines—especially when they served them with some really tasty chocolates.

Nevertheless, when it comes right down to it, I am a Beer Guy. Not the vapid swill that passed for beer during most of the last 50 years, but better quality craft beer and exports.

Finding this door for $50 was one of the best things about this project.

My wife likes wine, but generally she prefers very sweet wines—Muscato, Prosecco, ice wines or an occasional Reisling. For the most part, these are not the kind of wines that hang around very long—or that improve significantly with aging.

So, why a wine cellar, you may ask?

Well, for one thing, we have friends who like to drink wine, maybe before, during or after dinner. So it’s always a good idea to have some on hand.

In addition, I planned to store some craft beers in the cellar as well—in particular, those high-gravity stouts, porters, ales and barley wines that do age and mellow well.



I also wanted a place to store and display related items, like glassware, books on wine and beer, and related memorabilia, in addition to some of my home brewing equipment.

Last of all, I think the house deserved a wine cellar. And why not? I had a perfect space under the stairs, and I thought if done reasonable well, it would be a nice feature in terms of future resale. So there’s the logic.

THE PROCESS

First I had to enclose the area under the basement stairs with a stud wall, which was pretty straightforward. The main consideration here was the position of the doorway, ensuring plenty of full height opening clearance on the right side while leaving enough room to squeeze in some built-in bottle/book/glassware shelves on the left. Inside, on the right (underneath the descending stairway) I’d have room for an old wooden cabinet that fit nicely into the space, leaving some room for hidden storage behind. The whole space used for the wine cellar was about 3.5 ft deep and about 7.25 feet wide.

Clearly we require more wine. All good things in time.

The stud wall went up without too much trouble; the best thing I did here was finally invest in a nail gun, which made things so much faster and easier. I must admit my drywall skills leave something to be desired—the main problem being that I didn’t use enough mud at first, and then spread it out with a blade that was not really wide enough. This makes it necessary to go over the joints more than is necessary, and sand more than usual. I suppose the results show a little here and there. Next time, I resolve to get the proper tools and perhaps do a skim coat over the whole surface.

Once this part was complete, I set to do some carpentry. Most of the large 22oz beer bottles would store on wooden shelves I was building in—since beer is supposed to store vertically, unlike wine. For reasons I already mentioned, I didn’t require a lot of wine storage, but I did go the dramatic route and build a 6 foot tall vertical display that holds about 12 bottles horizontally against the wall—so you can see the labels. As a supplement to this, I have a small wine rack on top of the cabinet that holds an additional 3 or 4 bottles.

The surfaces of the tiny room feature various materials which all seem to go together. The wood shelves and trim inside are mostly mahogany-stained pine. There is some cork on the back wall between the upper and lower shelves on the left, and about 18” of the back wall (originally sheathed with paneling) is now covered in some 30-year-old wallpaper that I saved from the time I worked at Wallpapers-to-Go. It was a heavy, saddle brown paper with nice images of vintage French wine labels; I knew I’d eventually find a spot for it…and I did.

Most of the remaining back wall is solid concrete in a rough molded brick pattern; this was painted a dark tan. One advantage this offers is that the concrete remains cool at all times, and with the wine being stored on this wall, it remains at a fairly even temperature. I also used a bit of the wine wallpaper underneath the stairs on the right, trimmed out in some mahogany-stained pine. At about the 5.5-foot level, I hung a roll-up blind down from the bottom of a riser, so it extends to the floor. This serves as somewhat of a “false wall” behind my storage cabinet, which is about 30’ high, and I use the 2’ of useable space behind the blind to store (and hide) large seasonal items, like a couple of  Christmas tree boxes.

The shelves provide lots of room for wine & beer books, and bottled beer storage.

I managed to get a open box of premium vinyl wood planks at the Habitat store for about $10—just enough to cover the 18 square feet or so I needed in a nice dark brown. I haven’t decided what to do for the ceiling yet, but I’m thinking some wood, maybe pallet boards.

Of course, all this effort goes for naught if it’s hidden behind a door, and I hit the jackpot at the Habitat store once again, nabbing a beautiful wooden 30" French door for just $50. It was already painted white (and really didn’t need re-painting) and best of all, it even had beveled panes of glass!

I have tested some temporary lighting, and it’s clear that some nice wall spots inside the little room would make for a very dramatic look, so I’m thinking a couple of small units on the ceiling.

We completed the look with a couple of framed prints I made—they are some of the places we really enjoyed during our visit to the Napa Valley. I’ve added a couple of other chotchkes, like an ancient beer bottle capper, but am still looking for just the right thermometer to hang in here somewhere…

When I first created this website, I wanted to have someplace where I could talk about the kinds of houses and buildings I loved, remember the people who designed and built them, recognize people who maintain, live in and restore them, and survey related topics in design, the arts, lifestyle and popular culture—including books.

Having utilized much of this accumulated information in the design of my own home—I have chosen from time to time to write about some of the projects I’ve worked on since building our house almost 25 years ago.  Some of the posts have involved thoughts on decoration, some are how-to’s (or maybe how-I’s) - that discuss things I’ve had to fix; other posts have simply touched on my own thoughts about building and design.

This is a bar-height island I am building in the basement using 2" x 4" framing and some used bi-fold doors. More on this project later...

As I’ve mentioned before, while I had very specific ideas about the design of my own house, budgetary issues (I was 34 when we built, and modestly employed) forced a number of compromises, some of which I have been able to remedy over the years. Many still remain, and I will increasingly use the website to discuss how they are being addressed, for after all—when is a house ever truly finished? When we built, I knew I would have to plan for the long term, assuming that some materials, designs and finishes would make an appearance at a later date. Sometimes much later, as it turns out.

I am a notorious procrastinator, so the fault is mostly mine. After some deliberation, I find myself in a good position now to make it down the home stretch and finally get things as I originally envisioned them years ago, when I set plans to sheets of vellum (yes, no 3D renders for me) and started searching for a general contractor.

So, interspersed among the posts on historical houses, old architecture books, preservation/heritage issues and related commentary—you can expect to see more “hands-on” bits and pieces about things I am doing inside the house.

I’d be remiss if I didn’t admit that I have clearly noticed the popularity of so many design and “how-to” blogs; so I feel it is a natural course to develop this approach as I go along. It’s a chance to further explain—in practical terms—how I try to integrate whatever knowledge I have accumulated and my own design sensibilities into the projects I take on inside these four walls.

If, Dear Reader, you care to comment, share your thoughts or experiences, or ask questions, I will sincerely appreciate it, and would love to hear from you.

When talking or writing about Tudor Revival homes here in The States, it’s clear that in terms of quality, they clearly run the gamut—from beautiful and authentic-looking examples like Akron’s Stan Hywet Hall, to decent-looking suburban homes, to less-convincing modern interpretations—and then to what can only be considered abominations, like a Tudor ranch or split-level. Whatever type you might happen to encounter, it’s best to always be ready for a surprise.

Sometimes it's all in the details...

So it was on a recent winter Sunday. There being no football (it was the week before the Super Bowl) the wife asked if I would go with her to look at some very large “open houses” for sale on the other side of town. Once in a great while, we do this for pure entertainment—or what I like to call “shits & giggles”—to see what is out there on the market and perhaps collect ideas for our own home.

All of the homes we visited were significantly larger than our present home, and about three times as costly. None were really practical for us, since investing in a far larger house at a time when most couples are getting ready to downsize for retirement doesn’t make sense. Nevertheless, we got in the car and headed out.

Only two of the homes we visited were really worthy of note; both were Tudor Revivals, and both had both good and not-so-good elements that caught my eye. They were built almost 20 years apart (1971 and 1988) and both had some interesting stories to tell.

Not a bad looking house at all - considering it's a relatively recent effort. Almost there.

The first of these houses I remembered quite well, having seen it well before I built my own house in 1992. The exterior is in excellent shape after almost 30 years, and I must say that in terms of overall design and massing, it is one of the better Tudor Revival-style homes I have seen built in recent times. The roof pitches are fine, the half-timbering work is reasonably robust—not thin and chintzy like so many other recent examples—the plan is angled and irregular, and the stone and brickwork is competently done. Parts of the second floor are even jettied-out over the ground floor, which is also nice to see.

It is not perfect. The house could stand some more detail in the timberwork. The windows are a little too tall, and feature a combination of both square and the cliché diamond-pattern grilles that are always too large and out of scale. Worst of all, they are all white, when they should be the same dark brown as the timber. The overhanging jetties also lack any corbels at the ends or other supporting structure, which gives them a stark and unfinished character.

Overall, the exterior provides an example of a fine, custom-built house (I would assume the work of an architect) that could have greatly benefitted from a little more care and research. I think a lot of American designers use houses built in the 1920’s and 30’s as traditional design guides, instead of resourcing original English examples or even old pattern and style books, like Garner & Stratton’s Domestic Architecture of England during the Tudor Period. The result is often a loss of detail and in less adept hands, some clumsy or incomplete results. The good thing about the exterior of this home is that it could be easily remedied with a few additional elements.

The door is nice. Not a fan of the parquet. The stair rail belongs in a colonial house.

As solid as the exterior was, the interior featured little if any historic detail. There was plenty of brown oak, yes, and a nice arched front door—but inside I found the traditional-style woodwork you’d see in any nice home; a spindly staircase with thin balusters and a curled volute newel detail at the bottom and the ubiquitous six-panel colonial doors. Where one might have employed a Tudor arch, or even a curved arch over a wide doorway, the builder had substituted rather crude-looking openings with the upper corners cut and cased at a 45-degree angle. The home’s fireplaces were either stone or brick, but were utterly plain and ordinary, and could have been found in almost any home. There were some nice built-ins and storage, but nothing extraordinary, though the master bath did have some very fine English-style cabinetry. One interesting feature was the slim doorway/balcony in the master bedroom that overlooked the two-story great room—a historical nod to the “squint” or “chaperone” window found in many ancient Tudor homes.

The way the cased opening here is handled leaves a lot to be desired.

All in all, for about $650k it was still a very nice house on a large and attractive treed lot, but one that deserved a little more attention in terms of detail. I was thinking another $50k of proper detailing and upgrades could bring it into line.

I found the other Tudor Revival home on our tour to be a great curiosity. My first impression was that someone had taken a rather straightforward two-story colonial home and tacked a brick Tudor-style entry porch onto the façade. I see this feature on a fair amount of Tudor Revival houses, both new and old—when the entry roof pitch is too steep, it borders on the cartoonish. This one was a pretty close call. The front was extended a little to the right, ending in a long side-entry garage featuring a second story with shed dormers. The windows were too large for the style. From the street, it did not appear to be such a happy composition.

One of the only houses I've seen that looks better up close than at a distance.

Going up the driveway and standing up close, however, I found the overall effect to be far more pleasing. Closer inspection revealed that the ground floor was clad in fine, old-style brick all around—the same as on the high-peaked entry front. The upper story was covered in rough clapboards, but the edges were cut in a wavy, irregular style and finished in a very dark, almost black stain. The stonework around the entrance was very fine as well, and the doorway was flanked by some very large, black iron torchieres that looked like they were a hundred years old. Clearly, whoever selected the materials knew what they were doing, because the resulting combination of colors and textures felt very natural and appropriate.

Remember, this was a 1970’s house. I didn’t expect much from the interior other than harvest gold Formica and tired, avocado carpet. I was right on that count, and the furniture still in the house was from the same era. It was almost like a time machine.



The plaster fireplace surround and crown molding was superb - and terrifically Tudor!

But here again, there were many surprises. There were beautiful, authentic plaster details found throughout the house, and best of all, they were actual Tudor designs, including a splendid mantel, excellent cornice and crown moldings, ceiling medallions—each one looked like it had been picked out of a 1920’s catalogue. The doors were solid wood, and were of the appropriate 8-panel Tudor-style. Some of the rooms featured coffered ceilings or peaked ceilings with beams, and a couple of the bedrooms combined that with walls paneled in wide, hardwood boards. I had mixed feelings about the foyer stairway, it was broad and curving—and open to the basement level as well as above. Rather than wood, the stair had a curved iron railing, which would probably look much better if refinished in black rather than its current funky 70’s gold. Removing the carpet on the stairs would help too, I am sure. Then again—there was carpet just about everywhere; being a 70’s house, I wondered if there was hardwood underneath any of it.

Peaked ceiling...and paneled with real hardwood boards...not the cheap stuff you'd expect.

The kitchen and bathrooms all needed to be re-done. The fixtures and cabinetry, while clean and in very good shape, were old and outdated. The house even had an elevator, and the Realtor whispered to us that there was a secret staircase that went from the owner’s suit up to the attic and down to the basement. A secret staircase! How Totally Tudor of them.

Exterior aside, I left that house being quite impressed by the attention to detail and high standards of the original builder and owner. Though the exterior elevation left something to be desired, some of the interior details were totally unexpected. I can’t imagine many of the architectural products were commonly available when the house was built—as Tudor homes were seriously out of style in 1970. They must not have been that easy to source. Even today, with the help of the internet and its worldwide reach, it’s not always so easy, as I have noted previously.

Now if you combined the exterior design of the first house with the attention to detail of the second house, you'd really have something.

As I said, always prepare to be surprised.

The following story is somewhat of a “catch up”—since the process of improving and finishing our basement has involved years of procrastination, interspersed with periods of creativity, hard work, rudimentary planning, adaptive reuse and carpentry. Here goes…

I suppose I am not alone in saying that the state of our basement (or cellar, if you prefer) has always been a sore spot in our household. It seems this is the case for many homeowners.

When we built the house almost 25 years ago, the basement served only as storage for a growing accumulation of little-used “stuff” and a place to do laundry. The best thing about it was that due to the poured concrete walls and our well-drained lot, it was always dry as a bone.

About 15 years ago, I embarked on a project that divided the open space into a couple of workable areas devoted to specific tasks. First of these was a workshop for myself, which included the mechanical systems like the furnace and water heater, followed by another area that was used for storage and laundry. The storage and laundry areas were enclosed by simple stud-framed walls. The workshop was a slightly different matter—the “wall” separating it from the rest of the basement was simply formed from 3 large matching bookcases and a desk/bookcase unit, all connected together, then with the 2-foot gap between the top of the cases and the floor joists above filled in with 2’’ x 4’’ framing. A 32” gap between the bookcases became a convenient doorway, and the upper stud-framed portions sections above the bookcases were covered in paneling. The result looks like a wall of built-in units, which they truly are—and since they are not load bearing, they fit their purpose just fine.

The storage room I had created included a half-dozen large steel shelving units, which were filled rather quickly. After a few years, it became clear that more storage was needed for the overflow, so I built in some closets toward the front of the house, near the foot of the stairs. This area was relatively convenient to the kitchen, and would offer a fine place for my wife to store some of her larger serving items like large chafing dishes and pans, food warmers and seasonal serving and entertaining accessories that she uses just a few times a year.

Originally, I had intended this closet wall—which was about 10’ across—to include a central 4’ wide, 2’ deep inset where I had planned to place yet another one of my many bookshelves. This would have been flanked by a storage closet on each side. Unfortunately, once I had already framed the wall for this, The Boss said she preferred a whole wall of closet storage, and the inset was walled across and another door added. The end result looks fine but the change in plans on-the-fly resulted in a wall of three 24” bi-fold doors where two 36” bi-fold doors would have saved installation time and been slightly more practical. Henceforth, I resolved to consult The Boss prior to framing.

That covers most of the preliminaries up to the present time, with the exception of the wine cellar built under the stairs. That feature deserves a post of its own, and that’s where we will continue this saga…

Decorative plaque - provided by TudorArtisans.com - USA

If you are interested in architectural and interior design of the Tudor and Elizabethan periods, or you’re looking to restore a home built in a revival of these styles, one of the primary challenges is to find appropriate materials here in the States. Eighty years ago, it was easy to source such items as plaster cornice and mouldings, fireplaces, brackets, corbels, light fixtures, hardware and furniture that would look right in a Tudor-revival home. Today, there is little available. Other than the handful of legacy remnants available from old line US suppliers like Decorators Supply or Fischer & Jirousch, almost no one makes them anymore, aside from high end custom crafters and cabinetmakers.

Today, most suppliers offer a range of classically-inspired products that would fit well into a colonial or Georgian home, but provide almost nothing that is suitable to an earlier time period. Whether it’s a chair rail moulding, a wooden mantel, or even a wooden interior door—the choices are generally limited to very common traditional designs. Think of egg-and-dart, dentil mouldings, colonial casings or the ubiquitous colonial six-panel door and you know what I mean.

Even in my own house, built in 1992, I was limited to these sort of items in terms of availability and budget. I did demand a rather chunky staircase balustrade and had a very large, custom newel post built—I also had a custom mantelpiece made for the family room that was essentially Arts & Crafts in design. Any other resulting detail items I could manage were best described as Victorian (small carved wooden brackets in the dining/living room openings, and faux-plaster ceiling medallions over the kitchen and dining room lights. My doors were six-panel colonial, since the only other affordable and easily-obtainable alternative was a plain surface hollow-core slab door.



Staircase - courtesy Distinctive Country Furniture LTD - UK

As it turned out, the result was ok; many of these items might have been found in similar combination in an “Old English” house of an earlier time—particularly here in America, where styles were often blended together. As time goes on and I embark on future projects, I may remedy this situation to some extent, as far as time and budget allow.

If one has the means to import items from the UK, the issue is not quite as severe. A better selection is available, not to mention salvage items available from both online and brick-and-mortar vendors. In addition, my Twitter feed is full of highly skilled craftsmen who work in stone, plaster, glass, iron and wood, and almost any of them can create something both appropriate and beautiful—for a commensurate price. Sadly, the exchange rate and shipping across the Atlantic remain serious considerations, but for many, this remains a worthy option.

For those who are fearless, and who possess some level of skill and imagination, the remaining alternative is to make these items yourself. If one is able to obtain at least one appropriate decorative item, it is not so hard to make a mold and cast (in plaster or resin) the additional number required. Originals can be shaped in clay, or carved from wood, if one has the patience and requisite skill. Even if one lacks the ability to do hand-work, modern technology makes it possible to model a decorative piece using 3-dimensional software and send a file to a woodshop with a CNC router that can carve the item from a block of wood in a matter of minutes. Not inexpensive, but often less costly than paying a craftsman to make it by hand.

Lovely medieval floor chest - courtesy Early Oak Reproductions - UK

Perhaps the best solution is to use a combination of all these methods when it comes to sourcing decorative items for your period home. Where common or traditional materials can be made to “fit the bill”—feel free to use them and flip the resulting savings into cash that can be used to purchase those few specialty “feature” items that will set your project apart.

Likewise, do not be afraid to try your hand at creating a decorative detail yourself. If it doesn’t turn out quite as perfect as you would have liked, you don’t have to use it in your entrance foyer; integrate it into a bedroom, a back hall, or even a basement rec room—places where any shortcomings will be slightly less visible.

Stone carved head - courtesy Nick Roberson - UK

I would also suggest that at some point you spend the money and have a craftsman build or create some feature item that you can integrate into your interior or exterior design. It may only be a single door, a carving for a fireplace, a plaster panel or a bit of iron hardware, but it will add both value and pride to your finished project. In this age of technology, traditional crafts cannot be allowed to disappear, and it is important that we support them so they will be available to future generations. Today’s best craftsmen work hard to learn their trade and spend many hours researching proper design and technique—whether it involves carving stone, building furniture or modelling in plaster. The results of this speak for themselves. Make use of them if you can.

I have long been fascinated by old building technologies; in particular, some of the materials and designed that were developed during the early 20th century. A few months ago, I discussed magnesite stucco, and this time we’ll take a look at a synthetic stand-in for traditional carved woodwork known as Duretta.

Aside from design, one of the foremost properties considered by architects and builders was the ability to be fireproof. This is precisely why stucco, concrete and brick were so popular, and why asbestos was so common in stucco mix, shingles, siding, flooring and other items used in construction.


Finishes for Duretta varied; most items were finished to look like wood, and the company claimed that when so finished, it was practically indistinguishable from the real think. Other pieces were finished to look like hammered metal, and still others were provided a special, more durable finish for exterior work.


G.E. Walter was not the only manufacturer to follow this route – other companies like Cleveland’s Fischer & Jirousch (still in business) also developed similar products, like O’Kast (“oak cast”) which also mimicked the look of carved wood. Some of these old wood panel designs are still available, though I do not believe the O’Kast material is still being used in production.

It is amazing to think that there were once a large number of firms designing and producing cast interior and exterior ornament for buildings in the United States. Today there are only a handful, and most of the currently-available designs are based on classical themes rather than the medieval and tudor styles that were so popular during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. One wonders what happened to some of the old proprietary formulas used for these products, as well as the fate of the molds that were used in their manufacture.

I have long been fascinated by old building technologies; in particular, some of the materials and designed that were developed during the early 20th century. A few months ago, I discussed magnesite stucco, and this time we’ll take a look at a synthetic stand-in for traditional carved woodwork known as Duretta.

Aside from design, one of the foremost properties considered by architects and builders was the ability to be fireproof. This is precisely why stucco, concrete and brick were so popular, and why asbestos was so common in stucco mix, shingles, siding, flooring and other items used in construction.


Finishes for Duretta varied; most items were finished to look like wood, and the company claimed that when so finished, it was practically indistinguishable from the real think. Other pieces were finished to look like hammered metal, and still others were provided a special, more durable finish for exterior work.

G.E. Walter was not the only manufacturer to follow this route – other companies like Cleveland’s Fischer & Jirousch (still in business) also developed similar products, like O’Kast (“oak cast”) which also mimicked the look of carved wood. Some of these old wood panel designs are still available, though I do not believe the O’Kast material is still being used in production.

It is amazing to think that there were once a large number of firms designing and producing cast interior and exterior ornament for buildings in the United States. Today there are only a handful, and most of the currently-available designs are based on classical themes rather than the medieval and tudor styles that were so popular during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. One wonders what happened to some of the old proprietary formulas used for these products, as well as the fate of the molds that were used in their manufacture.

Sometimes a fence is more than just a fence. When I built our house back in 1992, I needed something to help “enclose” the small space created when I pushed the garage back about 15 feet from the front of the house. With an entry to the kitchen placed in-between and room for a small patio on either side of the driveway, the result was a modest “courtyard” that begged to be enclosed by a fence of some sort.

I eventually settled on a white picket fence, which runs only about 8 feet on either side of the driveway, connecting to the house at one side and ending at the property line on the other, then turning back along the boundary there for about 15 feet before ending even-up with the front of the garage. The result was a nice, semi enclosed space, where I could keep a table and chairs on one side and storage/waste bins on the other, all hidden behind a 3 foot fence.

To frame it all off properly, I asked the fence contractor to include some large gate posts on either side of the driveway; something about five feet high and reasonably substantial—about 8” to 12” square. I may have given him a rough sketch, but the design he came up with was almost exactly what I was looking for.

Here you can see the way the fence was designed to wrap around the house and tie it into the landscape.

Before he had started on the project, I had looked at the plans and decided that all of this going on at one side of the house needed to be balanced by something on the other side. As a result, I added an 8 foot length of fence (and a gate post that matched those on the other side) on the opposite side of the house; this also turned at the property line and went back about 24 feet along the boundary, enclosing a small part of the yard surrounding our enclosed porch/garden room. Eventually, this area hidden behind the fence would become known to our children as The Secret Garden.

I was rather happy with the finished result—the fence really served to “anchor” the house and integrate it into the landscape. It also made it appear larger, since it visually stretched the house and the attached fence all the way across the 90 foot lot.

Maintenance & Durability
While the pickets were of cedar and the rest of the fence framing were of pressure-treated lumber, I was concerned that the three large gateposts might be a long term problem due to the fact that their upper portions were not constructed from treated lumber, but shop built off site from standard 2” thick framing pine. They were well-built, with mitered corners, neat moldings and tight joints, but I knew eventually that the weather (and the carpenter ants) might take their toll.

You can see how the upper portion has taken a real beating.

With plenty of paint and stain, the large wooden columns held up pretty well for the first dozen years or so; eventually, however, the top sections and surrounding trim began to rot. Wood filler, calk, and additional paint helped me get through another few years, and the last season or so I even resorted to applying duct tape and a thick coating of FlexSeal ™ sprayed over the worst parts.

This wasn’t the only issue. Many of the nails used to construct these columns were rusting away, with the result that the lower portions—which were built from 1” thick pressure treated lumber—were coming loose from the bottom of the posts, too. As for the balance of the fence, it was still in good shape; the cedar posts would just need a light sanding and maybe a few nails here and there, and the other standard 4x4 posts were solid as a rock. Nevertheless, as I looked at the fence this spring, I knew that it was time for a major restoration.

Planning & Materials
The ground post anchors that the large columns were built upon were still sound; the fluted sides of the columns were cedar, and in very good shape, as was the edge molding at the corners, which only needed a few new nails. Even the horizontal tops of the posts and the finials were not rotted—some straightening, a screw here and there, and some sanding and re-sealing with silicone caulk would bring them up to snuff.

The upper column panels and the molded trim were another story. They had to go, and not wanting to do this job again, I purchased some Azek PVC trim to do the repair work.

The material is not cheap, but it is a dream to work with—it saws better than wood and takes screws better than wood, too. I wouldn’t use it in every application, but here, where it is painted white anyway and is so exposed to the elements, I have no reservations.

Rebuilt, Re-fastened, caulked and new paint.

I eschewed the mitered corners on that large upper column panels and used butt joints this time around. Again, being painted, I think the result looks just fine. I did miter the upper trim corners carefully, and they look better than the original.

As for the bottom of the posts, the mitered 1” thick panels were re-attached with some new screws and also some stainless L-brackets screwed in at each corner. Not quite as neat as the original, but very secure and will end up being hidden by paint and the flowers which grow in front of the fence.

Hopefully the result--with regular maintenance--should hold up for a good while longer. We can only hope; the core materials still seem pretty sound, and the post remain well-anchored.

That’s Part One of our fence project. Part two will involve some spade work, as we revitalize the plantings in front of and behind the fence.

Sometimes a fence is more than just a fence. When I built our house back in 1992, I needed something to help “enclose” the small space created when I pushed the garage back about 15 feet from the front of the house. With an entry to the kitchen placed in-between and room for a small patio on either side of the driveway, the result was a modest “courtyard” that begged to be enclosed by a fence of some sort.

I eventually settled on a white picket fence, which runs only about 8 feet on either side of the driveway, connecting to the house at one side and ending at the property line on the other, then turning back along the boundary there for about 15 feet before ending even-up with the front of the garage. The result was a nice, semi enclosed space, where I could keep a table and chairs on one side and storage/waste bins on the other, all hidden behind a 3 foot fence.

To frame it all off properly, I asked the fence contractor to include some large gate posts on either side of the driveway; something about five feet high and reasonably substantial—about 8” to 12” square. I may have given him a rough sketch, but the design he came up with was almost exactly what I was looking for.

Here you can see the way the fence was designed to wrap around the house and tie it into the landscape.

Before he had started on the project, I had looked at the plans and decided that all of this going on at one side of the house needed to be balanced by something on the other side. As a result, I added an 8 foot length of fence (and a gate post that matched those on the other side) on the opposite side of the house; this also turned at the property line and went back about 24 feet along the boundary, enclosing a small part of the yard surrounding our enclosed porch/garden room. Eventually, this area hidden behind the fence would become known to our children as The Secret Garden.

I was rather happy with the finished result—the fence really served to “anchor” the house and integrate it into the landscape. It also made it appear larger, since it visually stretched the house and the attached fence all the way across the 90 foot lot.

Maintenance & Durability
While the pickets were of cedar and the rest of the fence framing were of pressure-treated lumber, I was concerned that the three large gateposts might be a long term problem due to the fact that their upper portions were not constructed from treated lumber, but shop built off site from standard 2” thick framing pine. They were well-built, with mitered corners, neat moldings and tight joints, but I knew eventually that the weather (and the carpenter ants) might take their toll.

You can see how the upper portion has taken a real beating.

With plenty of paint and stain, the large wooden columns held up pretty well for the first dozen years or so; eventually, however, the top sections and surrounding trim began to rot. Wood filler, calk, and additional paint helped me get through another few years, and the last season or so I even resorted to applying duct tape and a thick coating of FlexSeal ™ sprayed over the worst parts.

This wasn’t the only issue. Many of the nails used to construct these columns were rusting away, with the result that the lower portions—which were built from 1” thick pressure treated lumber—were coming loose from the bottom of the posts, too. As for the balance of the fence, it was still in good shape; the cedar posts would just need a light sanding and maybe a few nails here and there, and the other standard 4x4 posts were solid as a rock. Nevertheless, as I looked at the fence this spring, I knew that it was time for a major restoration.

Planning & Materials
The ground post anchors that the large columns were built upon were still sound; the fluted sides of the columns were cedar, and in very good shape, as was the edge molding at the corners, which only needed a few new nails. Even the horizontal tops of the posts and the finials were not rotted—some straightening, a screw here and there, and some sanding and re-sealing with silicone caulk would bring them up to snuff.

The upper column panels and the molded trim were another story. They had to go, and not wanting to do this job again, I purchased some Azek PVC trim to do the repair work.

The material is not cheap, but it is a dream to work with—it saws better than wood and takes screws better than wood, too. I wouldn’t use it in every application, but here, where it is painted white anyway and is so exposed to the elements, I have no reservations.

Rebuilt, Re-fastened, caulked and new paint.

I eschewed the mitered corners on that large upper column panels and used butt joints this time around. Again, being painted, I think the result looks just fine. I did miter the upper trim corners carefully, and they look better than the original.

As for the bottom of the posts, the mitered 1” thick panels were re-attached with some new screws and also some stainless L-brackets screwed in at each corner. Not quite as neat as the original, but very secure and will end up being hidden by paint and the flowers which grow in front of the fence.

Hopefully the result--with regular maintenance--should hold up for a good while longer. We can only hope; the core materials still seem pretty sound, and the post remain well-anchored.

That’s Part One of our fence project. Part two will involve some spade work, as we revitalize the plantings in front of and behind the fence.

If you love traditional Old English homes, there can be no doubt you will run into some type of stucco or exterior plaster at one time or another. It may be on the exterior of an ancient cob house, the roughcast finish on a Voysey house, the fancy plaster pargetting of an Elizabethan townhouse or even some exterior panels on a “stockbroker Tudor”.

Built in 1914, the traditional-styled English Cottage I lived in for 8 years in Akron’s Goodyear Heights had asbestos stucco covering its first (ground) floor and foundation, with cedar shingles on the upper floor. (I’ve always thought wall shingles were a poor-man’s substitute for the clay tiling used on many English vernacular houses.) The stucco on that house had been painted over, and due to some neglected maintenance, had begun to crack in several places.

On the driveway side of the house, the stucco and its expanded wire lath were both coming loose from the exterior sheathing, to the extent that I could easily insert my hand fully into the gap for almost a foot, which was right next to our dining room window. This could have been the result of some foundation settling and some moisture penetration, but it eventually resulted in the decision to remove a 6’ x 4’ section of the stucco and make a major repair.

Of course, I did not know this was asbestos stucco at the time—but it came off in large pieces, and not being too concerned with short term exposure outdoors—I have no regrets or adverse effects some 25 years later. There was horse-hair in that stucco, too!

What I did know is that I could not just go out and buy modern stucco mix and plop it onto the wall. I first reattached the wire lath, which was actually still in pretty decent shape, and added some securely stapled chicken wire here and there, just for good measure. I then referenced an old-fashioned stucco recipe which I probably sourced from The Old House Journal—remember, this was pre-Internet. That meant plenty of lime and not just Portland cement.

Having a substantial section of the house exposed while repairs are being made can be discomforting, but thankfully I was blessed for an extended dry period. A thick base coat, covered with a second, thinner brown coat, brought the surface to the proper level. This was followed by a finish coat—with some small pebbles added—to try and match the rest of the exterior wall surface as best as I could. I wasn’t too happy with the match until I got the hose and sprayed the surface ever-so-lightly with some water from our hose, which smoothed it to the extent that it finally matched the old stucco perfectly. Once this section of the house was coated with paint to match the rest, you could not tell the repair from the original work.

The house needed more repairs higher up on the facade, which had more cracks but was not failing to the extent that it was on the one side, probably due to the fact that it was sheltered from the prevailing winds, rain and direct sunlight. Sadly, I never got around to doing more repairs before we began the process of designing and building our new house in 1992. Nevertheless, I was proud to note during a recent neighborhood visit that the house still retains its original exterior materials and my repair looks just as solid as it did 25 years ago. Even the front of the house has held up to some extent, though it does look worse for the wear.

When we built our new(er) house, I considered using some synthetic stucco for the exterior, but decided against it for cost reasons. Over the years, some of these newer, lighter synthetic blends, installed over various types of insulating foam, have come under fire, having failed due to poor installation techniques or unsuitability for a particular climate. If I was to utilize stucco today, I would probably go with a more traditional type.

Which brings me to the discovery of a third type of stucco, with which I was totally unfamiliar—and that is magnesite stucco.

Some of the more popular brands were Kragstone,  Kellastone and Rocbond, proprietary blends of magnesium carbonate powder, asbestos and sand, which was mixed with an oily, magnesium chloride solution. It was not a cement-like product at all, and contained no lime, gypsum, or water. The result was a more plastic-like, all-mineral stucco product that was highly resistant to cracking and dried rock-hard when applied at least a half-inch thick.

Magnesite stucco was applied in two coats, and its unique properties allowed it to be applied even during freezing weather. Apparently it was introduced some time before WWI, and became quite popular before fading into obscurity a few decades later. In a few places, like California, there are some stucco specialists who can still repair and apply it, as it was often used for flooring surfaces, interior and exterior steps, and even countertops, sinks and bathtubs!

Here in Ohio, I know magnesite stucco was used in a number of locations many years ago, though I have not personally come across it myself. It seems obvious that repairs would represent quite a challenge, and I can’t see the use of more traditional types of stucco for repair being compatible. If you have any experience with this unique type of stucco, I’d like to hear about it.

If you love traditional Old English homes, there can be no doubt you will run into some type of stucco or exterior plaster at one time or another. It may be on the exterior of an ancient cob house, the roughcast finish on a Voysey house, the fancy plaster pargetting of an Elizabethan townhouse or even some exterior panels on a “stockbroker Tudor”.

Built in 1914, the traditional-styled English Cottage I lived in for 8 years in Akron’s Goodyear Heights had asbestos stucco covering its first (ground) floor and foundation, with cedar shingles on the upper floor. (I’ve always thought wall shingles were a poor-man’s substitute for the clay tiling used on many English vernacular houses.) The stucco on that house had been painted over, and due to some neglected maintenance, had begun to crack in several places.

On the driveway side of the house, the stucco and its expanded wire lath were both coming loose from the exterior sheathing, to the extent that I could easily insert my hand fully into the gap for almost a foot, which was right next to our dining room window. This could have been the result of some foundation settling and some moisture penetration, but it eventually resulted in the decision to remove a 6’ x 4’ section of the stucco and make a major repair.

Of course, I did not know this was asbestos stucco at the time—but it came off in large pieces, and not being too concerned with short term exposure outdoors—I have no regrets or adverse effects some 25 years later. There was horse-hair in that stucco, too!

What I did know is that I could not just go out and buy modern stucco mix and plop it onto the wall. I first reattached the wire lath, which was actually still in pretty decent shape, and added some securely stapled chicken wire here and there, just for good measure. I then referenced an old-fashioned stucco recipe which I probably sourced from The Old House Journal—remember, this was pre-Internet. That meant plenty of lime and not just Portland cement.

Having a substantial section of the house exposed while repairs are being made can be discomforting, but thankfully I was blessed for an extended dry period. A thick base coat, covered with a second, thinner brown coat, brought the surface to the proper level. This was followed by a finish coat—with some small pebbles added—to try and match the rest of the exterior wall surface as best as I could. I wasn’t too happy with the match until I got the hose and sprayed the surface ever-so-lightly with some water from our hose, which smoothed it to the extent that it finally matched the old stucco perfectly. Once this section of the house was coated with paint to match the rest, you could not tell the repair from the original work.

The house needed more repairs higher up on the facade, which had more cracks but was not failing to the extent that it was on the one side, probably due to the fact that it was sheltered from the prevailing winds, rain and direct sunlight. Sadly, I never got around to doing more repairs before we began the process of designing and building our new house in 1992. Nevertheless, I was proud to note during a recent neighborhood visit that the house still retains its original exterior materials and my repair looks just as solid as it did 25 years ago. Even the front of the house has held up to some extent, though it does look worse for the wear.

When we built our new(er) house, I considered using some synthetic stucco for the exterior, but decided against it for cost reasons. Over the years, some of these newer, lighter synthetic blends, installed over various types of insulating foam, have come under fire, having failed due to poor installation techniques or unsuitability for a particular climate. If I was to utilize stucco today, I would probably go with a more traditional type.

Which brings me to the discovery of a third type of stucco, with which I was totally unfamiliar—and that is magnesite stucco.

Some of the more popular brands were Kragstone,  Kellastone and Rocbond, proprietary blends of magnesium carbonate powder, asbestos and sand, which was mixed with an oily, magnesium chloride solution. It was not a cement-like product at all, and contained no lime, gypsum, or water. The result was a more plastic-like, all-mineral stucco product that was highly resistant to cracking and dried rock-hard when applied at least a half-inch thick.

Magnesite stucco was applied in two coats, and its unique properties allowed it to be applied even during freezing weather. Apparently it was introduced some time before WWI, and became quite popular before fading into obscurity a few decades later. In a few places, like California, there are some stucco specialists who can still repair and apply it, as it was often used for flooring surfaces, interior and exterior steps, and even countertops, sinks and bathtubs!

Here in Ohio, I know magnesite stucco was used in a number of locations many years ago, though I have not personally come across it myself. It seems obvious that repairs would represent quite a challenge, and I can’t see the use of more traditional types of stucco for repair being compatible. If you have any experience with this unique type of stucco, I’d like to hear about it.