Our short little house (with but 4 courses of logs up) slumbered all through the winter of 2007-8 under its temporary roof. But, Spring must come, even to the North Country. By June the snow was melted and work resumed on the house. (Just in time for black fly season!)
June 21, 2008 Our front door!
All summer, the Husband worked full days on The Lake and then put in several hours on the house measuring, cutting, milling, routing, joining, lifting, fitting. His father and partner has been so very understanding through this journey into log insanity. He allows Bob wide lattitute to work on the house instead of at clients' camps some days, directs the work crew to help on other days, and spends day after day working on our house himself. Without his father's help and support, we'd be sunk. During the summer of 2008, Paul, a family friend, decided that retirement was for slackers, apparently and worked close to 40 hrs each week to build our house. OUR house. Gratis. Now that's a good friend.
Progress seemed slow as the summer raced along. It didn't help that it was a particularly rainy summer, which is great for the grass and crap for the house builders. I say *seemed* slow, because in reality, the house rose course by course as Bob and his merry band of men (a small band; a duet really) toiled away. Each log had to be selected from the pile, milled onsite to give it two flat sides, measured and then cut to size according to where on the wall it was destined, routed, foam stuffed into the channel, notched with a tongue and/or groove, and lifted into place. Laborious, indeed.All summer, the Husband worked full days on The Lake and then put in several hours on the house measuring, cutting, milling, routing, joining, lifting, fitting. His father and partner has been so very understanding through this journey into log insanity. He allows Bob wide lattitute to work on the house instead of at clients' camps some days, directs the work crew to help on other days, and spends day after day working on our house himself. Without his father's help and support, we'd be sunk. During the summer of 2008, Paul, a family friend, decided that retirement was for slackers, apparently and worked close to 40 hrs each week to build our house. OUR house. Gratis. Now that's a good friend.
August 9, 2008
September 27, 2008
As Bob raced against winter to get the roof on, I had the rare privilege to help him prepare logs for several days in 35-40 degree weather. Yes, he was scraping the bottom of the barrel when he requested my help; thanks for mentioning it. I discovered that I HATE manual labor. HATE IT. Not just is my flabby self out of my element, but I could see the joy the Husband gets from building with his hands contrasted starkly with my misery. I like the outdoors. I like logs. I am reasonably competent when properly instructed. But noooo siree bob. Not for me. Which, of course, makes me even more grateful for a husband who glories in building our family a log home from scratch.
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Tune in next time for a photo essay on preparing a log to be part of a happy, happy home.
3 comments:
You are at least two up on me. I don't like the outdoors. I don't like logs. I hate manual labor. But then... you already knew all of that, didn't you? I whined about it enough.
I'm with you - I hate manual labor! And I hate "lifting" things.
Hey Anne!
I was recently listening to a group called Nightingale that I contra dance to on occasion. One of their CDs has a black fly song that you'd 'appreciate'/or commiserate with. :)
Sage
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