look ma, no scaffold

The ashiba scaffolding is gone--at least most of it. There's still a corner left, which they'll use to put in the chimney for the wood stove. But other than that, the exterior is at the mercy of the public view, and--just as we suspected--it's a bit of a schizophrenic exhibition. On the mountain side we have what I think of as much of the goodness of Japanese architecture: sloping gentle roofs, large eaves supported by posts and beams, an entrance way that is welcoming without being pretentious.
On the sea side is what I consider to be the less appealing side of modern Japanese architecture: a slab of wall with little to distinguish it, and I have no one to blame but me. But I beg any passersby on the beach to be forgiving. This was done with very little thought of its appearance from outside, despite the fact that more people will stare up at us from the sea side than from the road. As opposed to the other side of the house, almost all of the aethetic selections were made purely through the effect they would have on those in the house's interior.
And judging from our first house guest (and I'm not including former inhabitants such as the ubiquitous spiders and wasps), the view from the inside--think wall over the atrium--was of great value. Despite the open windows and my urging, he was the first of what we hope to be not too many guests who refuse to leave.