Weatherboard as a sign of care and attention

I have an obsession with weatherboard buildings. There. I've said it. I don't know where it comes from really, perhaps it's from holidays by the sea in Cornwall, perhaps it's from Oast houses and barns in Kent. Perhaps it's even written within my epigenetics from ancestors who also loved wooden buildings. However it has come about, the obsession is real, and the need to paint them seems to stem from the calming, friendly feeling they produce within me.

I'll even extend this passion to tongue and groove panelling (or vj walls here in Australia). Once again is this from cute cottages? Or Victorian buildings of my childhood? Perhaps it is the mark of buildings that have been crafted, with atmosphere and homeliness in mind, rather than cookie cutter, rack and stack boxes, bowing under the weight of financial constraints and mass-market averageness.

Weatherboard makes me think of homemade cakes, grandparents and floral gardens. Perhaps the nature of painted wood needing so much maintenance suggests there would be someone there to tend to it.

Granted, flaking paint and rotting wood are not part of my romantic dreams of weatherboard. And so perhaps too, there is the understanding that a well-maintained weatherboard building signifies care and attention, and a way to keep the relentless entropy of life at bay.