As I turn off the main road, there is an immediate sense of stepping back in time; here, shade and quiet close me in with hardwood branches arching above the lane. At the far end, where the trees open up, bright sunlight mimics the end of a tunnel. Low brick walls boarding expansive lawns run parallel to the lane connecting walkways and driveways, where hedges and plantings partially hide historic homes on top of a ridgeline. Markers tell of a historical hard-fought battle between the Continental Army and British on this same ridge 239 years previous.

Turning onto a private drive running along an easement, I see tall Cedars marching up the hill on the right and cozy cottages nestled between private gardens on the left. As I approach the ridgeline, a familiar cupola appears on the horizon, and with glimpses of a green sea beyond, I am grateful to be home.

The paved road ends with the last cottage, and a gravel one with grass growing in its center continues down the hill’s backside. A wooden fence lined with hydrangea leads to an entry gate and going through the gravel drive forks to create a circle around an island of grass, Hollie bushes, and small trees providing some little privacy for the main house.

A delightful patch of shaded grass located on the uppermost part of the yard and enclosed by a line of hydrangea and pear trees hug the gravel lane. Between the foliage, I can see a white picket fence running from the guest cottage to the perimeter fence.

 Rounding the bend and heading toward the main house, the same style picket fence encloses the home’s courtyard. The picket’s connecting with an old brick wall that runs along the home’s back creates a shady pathway inviting a person to explore the rest of the property. A curved river rock pathway leads from the picket fence gate to a brightly painted red front door.

The gravel drive meeting the home’s wide carport that at one time would have accommodated carriages has two small crosshatch doors above, hinting at its original use as a hayloft. The carports exterior wall with two windows allows the end of day sunlight to flood across and warm its floors. The windows overlook a side yard with a cobblestone river bed flowing toward the Polo field and a bamboo forest beyond the property line.

As I enter through the carport door, the familiar red-brown bricks, worn smooth by 130 years of groomsmen, carriage wheels, and residents, greet me. There is a sense of permanence walking across them, and their imperfections are as welcoming as an old friend. The craftsmanship and attention to detail, sometimes equal to a properties’ principal residence, are often lavished on Carriage Houses of the past.

The main hallway today is awash in light from two large windows at either end. On sunny winter days, the sun’s rays heat the bricks and acting as a passive solar system; the bricks radiate their stored heat well into the evening.

At the end of the hallway, double doors lead into the main barn, where the old horse stable wall markings are evident on the floor. Two intricate brass half doors also span the double door opening and are used today to coral dogs. Here the ceilings are 12 feet in height. A single row of ten square windows abutted to each other run high near the top of the wall on either side of the room; the window frames long ago painted shut, have hinges that speak of a time before air conditioning. Inside the frames, the wavy glass tells their age, and looking through them renders trees and flowering plants like an impressionist painting by Monet. The room, voluminous, is somehow still cozy. The kitchen, which I suspect once operated as a tack room, now flows out onto a deck overlooking the midline of a historic Polo Field. The field being a low point is often shrouded in fog in the early morning, adding to the mystique of these lands’ history.

Welcome, Home.