understanding patterns; connecting dots

This post is part of a series where I'm recording the appreciative thoughts and emotions associated with various spaces in our house. For context, read my post  Thinking about houses . In 2009, one of the first events held at donkey wheel house was an unconference called Trampoline  organised and hosted by my mates Pat Allan , Melina Chan and Steve Hopkins . I attended a session by Dan Donahoo  with whom I would also become friends. Dan's session was on the curious idea of 'edge theory'. In psychology, edge theory is about anxiety inducing situations, but at Trampoline, Dan talked about transitions. I started to see 'edges' as points of transition. Where the sea meets the sand on a beach, a transition from one environment to a completely different one. The edge of a cliff, a transition from safety and stability to one of free-fall and either danger or adventure depending on your intentions. And it opened my eyes to the way architects design transi

This post is part of a series where I'm recording the appreciative thoughts and emotions associated with various spaces in our house. For context, read my post  Thinking about houses . I'm writing this on a beautifully wild autumn day. successive cold fronts batter the weather boards with rain and wind. But only last weekend we felt like we were in an endless summer. When you live in this part of the world, the seasons are overwhelmingly formative in our lifestyles. And for those of us lucky enough to have some outdoors around our homes, our little plots of ground provide a meaningful connection with the changing environment.  Our little yard is fabulously regenerative.  The north facing deck invites the sun for most of the day. Afternoon snoozes in the hammock are almost ritual. We bought the hammock from a camping store in Mount Beauty a long time before we moved in. The hammock in the backyard in Brunswick had been an iconic feature for our family and we knew

This post is part of a series where I'm recording the appreciative thoughts and emotions associated with various spaces in our house. For context, read my post  Thinking about houses . It might sound obvious, but sleep experts say that a bedroom should be set up exclusively for sleeping. The simplicity of a room that has a bed and a small amount of convenient storage space is very appealing. In Pattern Language , Christopher Alexander and his colleagues suggest that, unlike what the most common house designs offer, dressing is an entirely different activity than sleeping and is best accommodated in its own space. The old dressing screens or walk in wardrobes with sufficient space for mirrors etc would be ideal. Alas, we don't have that amount of space in our little town house, but this room is wonderful anyway.  In the winter months when it is dark in the evenings, the light on the dressing table provides a soft welcome into the room. Immediately ins

This post is part of a series where I'm recording the appreciative thoughts and emotions associated with various spaces in our house. For context, read my post  Thinking about houses . The first dining table we bought was a round one. It had four rickety chairs and was bright glossy red. I found it in the trading post and drove to Bachhus March to pick it up in my chocolate brown HK station wagon. It cost us $25. We were so pleased to have it and after a couple of coats of white paint it even looked the part. Over the next 30 years, there were six more dining tables, chosen to suit the stage of life and style of home, including a white glass one in the apartment we rented on the Sunshine Coast. Few items of furniture are as formative as a dining table, so we took our search for the one that would occupy this dining nook pretty seriously. The chestnut wood is polished smooth on the top, but the edges retain a rough and uneven finish - a nice bit of rustic luxury desig