Knowing my penchant for summer sabbaticals, my editor suggested that for this issue I write a “travel column.” What, after all, is architecture without travel? Buildings don’t travel to you, you have to go to them. And yet, a grand tour of iconic edifices was not really part of my itinerary. I was in search not of momentous monuments but monumental moments to structure my sightseeing story.
My journey starts in Maine. After a long drive, I power down my Prius at the edge of a pond in sprawling Baxter State Park. My friend Lucy, whose family owns the small island out ahead (the holding predates the creation of the park), is waiting in an aluminum dinghy. She dutifully ferries me to one of the rustic cabins built by her forebears. There is no plumbing and no Wi-Fi, just shelves and shelves of dusty books.
Discussing local points of interest, Lucy tells me about a beaver dam at one end of the pond. “You know, beavers are my favorite animal,” I say. At home on land and in the water, these diligent rodents build large and intricate contemporary compounds that would merit …