Charles is exactly the type of sort you’d think of when someone asks you to describe a man named Charles. Well groomed. Well mannered. Well heeled.

Charles loves good things and values quality.

He and his wife were at that stage in life when it’s time for larger quarters. They have two young daughters and one more on the way. He is hoping for a son.

Charles decided he would have a house built for his growing family. He didn’t want just any old house, and he didn’t want a new one either. He wanted a home that would have bits of the past mingling among fragments of the present. Charles is a romantic.

One day he had an idea. It came to him on the morning of the eve of the new year, as he was barreling westward on Interstate 90.

Where Charles comes from, I90 is a highway that starts in the center of the city and stretches out past massive office buildings, and Medieval Times, a destination spot where you watch jousting warriors on horseback while you’re eating a turkey leg, without utensils. But that wasn’t where Charles had his moment of inspiration.

It was after the city. After the office buildings. After Medieval Times.

Charles drove through a rural patch of his home state where cows still grazed, farmers still farmed, and faded wood barns still stood – next to color clad aluminum ones.

“That’s it!” He thought, “I can build my house with barn wood.”

​​​​​​​So he took the first exit. Circled back. And drove...READ MORE