I met Robert on our first day of graduate school. We were both fueled from travel, the most tan and brawny we have been, Rob had recently returned from his work away in Kauai and myself from the archeological dig in Greece. Little did we know our nutrition and wallet would plummet in a matter of minutes. Deadlines kept us awake for consecutive days and our bank accounts drained on model materials. We were placed on a group fabrication project to suffer together in the first couple weeks. Our friendship was built on a certain kind of architectural perseverance; jig sawing curved lines into 3/4” birch plywood clamped to an outdoor park bench through the night. We would rub our tired eyes as the janitors arrived for their first shift at the break of dawn and students began to drift into campus for their early morning classes. Using power tools in the darkness certainly wasn’t the safest way to form a friendship but it did form a bond built on collaboration, determination and creative madness. Now, I thought there was something romantic about the sleep deprived laughter we shared and the sawdust filled stubble that formed on Robert's face. Dating someone in your cohort would be foolish especially when there were studies to focus on… we made it 7 months as friends before we said #&$* it! & the rest is history.

Narrowly surviving the trauma of our first year but young and in love, we packed our bags and headed to the Big Apple for the summer. Located in the Lower East Side of Manhattan, our first sublet was situated snugly on the corner of a bustling block, one story above a dangerously fragrant restaurant known as “The Spaghetti Incident”. The hours were long and the city summer was sweltering but the world was our oyster. The rooftop became our second home away from the heat while the nights were spent with friends exploring the city that never sleeps. Midway through the Summer we relocated to Brooklyn and found ourselves in a windowless railroad apartment bedroom. As the Summer drew to an end, our spirits remained high and ready for year two.

Back in Philadelphia, our studies consumed our time once again. Against the advice of others, we decided to be partners for our studio projects moving forward. We designed an orbital theater, a wooden park, and buildings buried within a rock quarry. Amongst the busy chaos of architecture school, covid put our in-person studies to a halt. The pandemic brought our relationship to a new level. The following months would show that we could keep ourselves entertained despite being unemployed and trapped in the house for months on end. Our roommates became family, and the endless days of homemade pasta and themed backyard parties warped our sense of time. Before we knew it we were in our cap and gown in our West Philly duplex popping champagne. Before embarking on our next journey to a new city, we needed to make up for all of the explorations we had lost in our pandemic bubble. We decided it would be a good idea to drive over 6,000 miles with no specific itinerary or booked hotels, just points on a map that we wanted to hit. Through the endless cornfields and deep canyons, sunrise geysers and beach sunsets, I learned there is no one I’d rather shiver on top of a mountain with in a wet sleeping bag. You know the love is real when you haven’t showered for days and the person you are sharing a broken tent with somehow still finds you attractive. I thought, I’ll serve PB&J’s from the passenger seat to this man forever.

We arrived in Boston with the grace and elegance befitting two young, newly mastered, professional architects. Bleary eyed and shaggy from our road trip, we stumbled into the entrance of the hotel where we had managed to acquire a last minute deal. Much to our dismay it was the Boston Park Plaza Hotel and we had entered into the middle of a wedding party. Even more to our dismay, in our travel haste we had jammed all of our belongings into a very large, frantically taped, cardboard box which I now carried in front of me like an overgrown heap of potatoes. Pardoning the mess, we politely maneuvered ourselves, and our package, around the glistening gowns and freshly pressed linens toward the front desk. Boston grew from a trip of excitement into a place of deep happiness that we loved to call home. The first two years were spent in an old brick and timber North End apartment, sandwiched steps away from the harbor and mouth watering Italian food on Hanover Street. We made lifelong friends and attempted (only partially successfully) to learn how to be adults. We were enchanted by Boston’s winding streets, cobblestoned sidewalks, and the mysteries hinted at around each corner. Through all of it we began planning our life together. As time moved, we longed for wider stretches of nature and itched to get away from our computer oriented desk jobs. In May of 2022 I planned a trip to the Berkshires. Re-enacting the first date we went on, I arranged a picnic and proposed on the lawn at Tanglewood. The weekend passed like a summer dream visiting flower festivals, museums, and restaurants while the nights were spent tucked into a cottage in the hills. Inspired and excited for the next chapter ahead, we knew it was time for a change. Eager to get our hands dirty, we began looking for a renovation in the Hudson Valley. As the months dragged on our hopes began dwindling, until late one night we received an unlikely listing for the old Hope Farm Bookshop.

Our decision to leave the city behind to renovate a crumbling bookshop in the Catskills has felt a bit like stepping back in time, with buckets catching snowmelt through the floorboards and heating our home with the wood stove. I would have thought the day we woke up to find a sinkhole in our yard with a collapsed septic tank at the center would be the moment that we would both lose it. Through these 'Dark Ages', as we’ve coined this era in our lives, together we have somehow remained calm. The determination for the home brings me back to our very first project together - a love that seeks learning, a love that taps into our imagination, and a love that is unwavering in difficult times. Now that brings us to the present, wouldn’t it be fun to plan a wedding at our home which we are also renovating? Bring on the challenge! From the wise words of Natasha Bedingfield, the rest is still unwritten.