Early this morning, I nudge Ed to get going. No time to waste. I want to go out to the farmhouse before my morning class. I want to take one last look before the official reinvention of the interior begins.
And it is a reinvention. Not entirely a complete rebuilding – the price for that would have been too high, but a reinvention and completion of the spaces we’re stuck with.
I admire now Ed’s work on the chimney removal – from the roof, all the way down to the basement (so many chipped bricks tossed out the window for now! What do you do with charred and chipped bricks?) and I see now what he meant when he said that at this moment, the floors are being supported by two clumsily placed wooden poles. Dismantling the chimney revealed what he had long suspected -- there's not much there to brace the floors above.
And so the very first task for the construction team (Andy and his grandson, with an occasional assist from Ed) will be to support the floors. Right now you could say that they sort of undulate. More like an ocean on a breezy day than a floor in a solid farmhouse.
Andy comes and I listen to them talk about this point load and that microlam. Reassuring builders’ talk. Like we all have a game plan going.
Me, I’ve been the one that has taken on the job of reinventing a livable space (with an occasional assist from Ed). I made the call on what we can live with and what has to be scrapped or resurfaced.
In the meantime, the bugs, especially the box elder beetles keep popping up from from the cracks in the walls and ceilings – a whole new batch waking up to the almost spring air. I haven’t time to vacuum them up today. I cast one quick hungry look at the spring-like landscape – those are berry canes to the left, and fruit trees, and there is a patch intended for mushrooms underneath.
I hurry off to teach.