Sometimes property owners need fresh eyes. Faced with the never-ending maintenance of a home or rental property, they lose sight of significance and destroy materials in exchange for the promise of reduced upkeep, operating costs, or property taxes.

Over the past year, I have toured five local historic houses, each complete with ells, barns, and in one case a three-story chicken house. All are imperiled. Three of the main houses, two ells, one barn, and the chicken house are threatened with demolition; the two other houses have seen protracted renovation.

The attachment of current owners to these properties varies widely in sometimes unpredictable ways. Often those owners with the longest history are most ready to call in the bulldozer, and they may be just as ready to call it off. You never know.

As I explore the structures, I learn about the owner’s time in that space and their plans for the future. It is a privilege. In return, I do not proselytize. By pointing out features along the way, even in mundane materials like timbers, granite, and fasteners, I just try to impart some new appreciation for overlooked objects. I share information gleaned from deeds, census forms, maps, and photographs. And when asked, I offer advice or followup research—while also trying to convey two tenets of preservation: retain historic materials and find reversible solutions.

This morning at the bank I ran into one owner. We had last talked on a foggy day in January down at the property. His latest tenants had just moved out, and demolition loomed. His greeted me with a challenge: “Tell me why I shouldn’t just tear this thing down.” That’s a quote.

Today he thanked me again for showing him a place he did not know existed—even after his three decades of ownership. Photographs from the 1890s, taken before some unfortunate alterations to the ell, showed an inviting, gabled farmhouse and relaxing porch on a shaded lot. Andrew Jackson Downing might have liked it. Rather than demolish this house, the owner grew more interested. It had possibilities. And despite his years and his tremors, he climbed an extension ladder and painted it this spring. Then he found new tenants.

Whether the other two threatened houses will meet with similar outcomes remains to be seen. I fear one will be lost to neglect, and I hope one will survive as the first and only brick house in town. In the preservation world, that would be a win.