Blogs are breeding like rabbits, or maybe like parthenogenetic insects — it doesn’t take two to make a blog if you know what I mean — so one can tend to get a little cynical at the news of yet another blog that must be looked into, checked out, or worse, actually read. (What’s with those blogs with paragraphs and paragraphs of unbroken text? Ahem.) Of course anyone can have a blog but not everyone should have a blog — or so the thinking goes, with such thoughts usually expressed by someone about five minutes after starting her own blog. But the converse is also true: while anyone can have a blog, sometimes the people who should have one don’t.
But I’ve been thinking, while a new blog — or several — is born every minute, it only makes sense. In this new era of Constant Information, those of us who follow the fortunes of others (and our own) have certain expectations about what constitutes reality. It’s like an updated version of the old tree-falling-in-the-forest conundrum. If something — anything — happens and news of it isn’t posted online (preferably streamed) then did it really happen? So when my friend Heather told me about her acquisition of an awe-inspiring 1911 home here in Rockport, one with an almost mythological pedigree, and that she planned to renovate this house without disturbing its spirit, I was skeptical. How would I know about this, how could I be sure any of this was actually taking place, occupying a space IRL as they say, if it wasn’t documented on her blog? But Heather’s blog (and column) are devoted to food — and are already crowded with descriptions of meals so robust and recipes so compelling that there is clearly little room at the table for posts about restoring plaster walls or furnishing a room with 28-foot ceilings. So: if a renovation takes place offline does it really happen?
Today my anxieties on both scores — proliferating blogs and a dearth of news from Heather — were put to rest, momentarily at least (luckily for you). I just discovered that one of those people, the ones who should be writing a blog, started one. And, even better, it’s all about the blogger’s second career in design and project management for various renovations, one of which happens to be Howlets — Heather’s 1911 house. Yes, her house has a name. No wonder she needs a project manager.
The blog is called The Landmark Files; just click over to read the first few posts, one of which gives you more information about Howlets, its past glory, present needs, and perfectly imperfect future.
I look forward to following along and reading The Landmark Files, because there’s always room at this table for one more.