When the Pit Won't Separate from the Peach
July 8, 2013
[caption id="attachment_2178" align="alignleft" width="300"]
Erik Jacobs for The New York Times[/caption]
Erik Jacobs for The New York Times
"NO ENTRY AFTER THREE DRINKS OR 86 YEARS OF AGE."[/caption] The bartering and networking that Wood did for supplies, resources, caretakers, and even access to the house required great effort and people skills. Friends and family still annually gather by the droves for a long weekend of serious maintenance work and partying. From what I’ve read, they celebrate as hard as they work. The more I learn about Clingstone, the more fascinated I become with the place. Although the original owner was rebelliously trying to seclude himself, the new owner relies on the love and help of others to keep its beauty going. In a mystical way, Clingstone seems to be even bigger than the ingenuity and hard work of everyone involved. It has really become an island of its own. Anita Rafael writes for the Newport Harbor Guide that every faucet, fixture, light bulb and appliance at Clingstone runs entirely off the grid. The power supply is from an enormous battery bank, charged by the solar panels and the wind turbine you see on the roof. The water supply is rainwater, and 3,000 gallons of fresh water are stored in an attic cistern. The toilets are selfcomposting, so no waste goes into the sea. The old johns are outside now and used as planters. You have to laugh. …Laugh and wonder in awe at this community of people beautifying the house on a rock. A house on a rock! Clingstone got it’s name from the original owner’s comment that it was “a peach of a house.” Coincidentally, my father-in-law was just talking about clingstone fruit as my son was eating a peach the other day. The flesh of clingstone fruit, unlike freestone, is so attached to the stone (pit) that you cannot separate it. The name of this house makes me think of the church that is built on the Rock, Jesus Christ. What a picture of complete unity. None of the neighbors believed that Clingstone would survive one season, but it has made it through many bad storms and hurricanes. Clingstone has been through much persecution, but that only seems to bring in more people to be its arms and legs. I guess Clingstone is a good picture of heaven after all.
Erik Jacobs for The New York Times[/caption]
After our second 4th of July party this week, Matt and I needed a little veg out time once we finally got all the kids to bed. So we cuddled on our big, round chair (aka the hot tub chair) and watched some HGTV. We caught the end of an “Amazing Water Homes” episode about a house that was built on a rock in the middle of Rhode Island’s Narragansett Bay. It was gorgeous.
In 1961, Henry Wood bought this now 108-year-old mansion for $3,600. It had been abandoned after its original owners died two decades before. All 65 windows were broken and the roof was shot. There was no electricity or plumbing. Henry had his work cut out for him. I began to imagine myself in this beautiful home with its bohemian feel, reading by one of the amazing picture windows while watching the boats pass by. For a house with no yard, it had an impressive amount of outdoor space. I dreamt of sunbathing on the roof deck. Then I felt a twinge of guilt because part of the appeal of this home is the fact that it is surrounded by water. There are no neighbors. You can completely escape from the world. I thought about heaven, because usually when I long to see a beautiful place that isn’t likely to happen in my lifetime, I make myself feel better by imagining the beauty of the new heaven and the new earth. But this get-away seemed to go against what heaven is about. Isolating myself from the covenantal body just didn’t seem to jive with the outgoing relationship of the Trinity. Nonetheless, I couldn’t forget about this house. I had to do some more investigating. It turns out that the original owner built this haven, affectionately known as Clingstone, on a rock to spite the government after they seized his land. He was determined to have a home where nobody could bother him, and he had the money to do it. But its new owner, Henry Wood did not have the resources himself to refurbish and maintain this gem. He would have to depend on the volunteer work of many others that wanted to share in the house’s beauty. Penelope Green wrote about this challenge in her NY Times article: Every spring for a decade or so after the sale, Mr. Wood said, he cursed “this albatross,” his roofless, windowless, floorless, powerless, waterless house. Wrangling what had been a rich man’s plaything, attended by servants and even its own shipyard, into a working couple’s weekend getaway turned out to be much more than a working couple could handle. Eventually, though, as the Woods mustered the talents of their friends, Clingstone and its maintenance evolved into a communal lifestyle, and ultimately a kind of religion. [caption id="attachment_2176" align="alignright" width="200"]
Erik Jacobs for The New York Times"NO ENTRY AFTER THREE DRINKS OR 86 YEARS OF AGE."[/caption] The bartering and networking that Wood did for supplies, resources, caretakers, and even access to the house required great effort and people skills. Friends and family still annually gather by the droves for a long weekend of serious maintenance work and partying. From what I’ve read, they celebrate as hard as they work. The more I learn about Clingstone, the more fascinated I become with the place. Although the original owner was rebelliously trying to seclude himself, the new owner relies on the love and help of others to keep its beauty going. In a mystical way, Clingstone seems to be even bigger than the ingenuity and hard work of everyone involved. It has really become an island of its own. Anita Rafael writes for the Newport Harbor Guide that every faucet, fixture, light bulb and appliance at Clingstone runs entirely off the grid. The power supply is from an enormous battery bank, charged by the solar panels and the wind turbine you see on the roof. The water supply is rainwater, and 3,000 gallons of fresh water are stored in an attic cistern. The toilets are selfcomposting, so no waste goes into the sea. The old johns are outside now and used as planters. You have to laugh. …Laugh and wonder in awe at this community of people beautifying the house on a rock. A house on a rock! Clingstone got it’s name from the original owner’s comment that it was “a peach of a house.” Coincidentally, my father-in-law was just talking about clingstone fruit as my son was eating a peach the other day. The flesh of clingstone fruit, unlike freestone, is so attached to the stone (pit) that you cannot separate it. The name of this house makes me think of the church that is built on the Rock, Jesus Christ. What a picture of complete unity. None of the neighbors believed that Clingstone would survive one season, but it has made it through many bad storms and hurricanes. Clingstone has been through much persecution, but that only seems to bring in more people to be its arms and legs. I guess Clingstone is a good picture of heaven after all.
