Friday, February 25, 2011
loaded down
If you’re going to do farmhouse restoration, expect to do a lot of lifting and carrying. Heavy things. Boulders in basements, beams, old tubs come down, pails of dirt go out. Bricks. Lots of old chipped bricks. Floor boards, cement bags.
Ed’s done the bulk of it. At sixty, he can still lift things that three of me could not lift.
It’s hard work. Soon to be replaced with dull work as we take on the electrical switches. But, it’s good to see the house propped up and nailed back together. And we have a good team with a hefty amount of experience. Andy and his grandson have done construction work all their adult lives. They know their nails.
(How is it that Ed’s the worst dressed of the lot? He tells me that the jeans are only now coming into their own.)
And speaking of nails, I admired a set. In rows. For a nail gun I’m told. Here, next to the bronze statue.
Ed’s mother was an artist and her art – paintings and sculptures – at the moment is propped up in various rooms of the farmhouse. Bare rooms, unfinished rooms. Now with construction tools and figures made of bronze.
Having never gutted a building this old (okay, having never gutted any building), I didn’t realize that it is much like going for your medical checkup when you haven’t seen a doctor for decades. One thing leads to another and before you know it, you need tests, surgery and two limbs removed, or at least replaced in parts. At the farmhouse, the chimney’s out. This reveals the inadequate support that has always characterized the building. As walls come down and warped door frames are removed, a rotting floorboard comes out of hiding. And so on.
You cannot be in a hurry. The house wont let you rush through the job.
But, the day is delightfully buoyant. That late February light is playing across the fields and you can’t help but be thrilled at the sight of this older farmstead, there, in the grove of fruit trees and weeping willows, with a tall silo, plainly visible through the bare branches.
They say the sap will start running in about two weeks. And soon after, surely a few crocuses will sprout. Thrilling thoughts. Energizing. For all those hauls with heavy loads.
Ed’s done the bulk of it. At sixty, he can still lift things that three of me could not lift.
It’s hard work. Soon to be replaced with dull work as we take on the electrical switches. But, it’s good to see the house propped up and nailed back together. And we have a good team with a hefty amount of experience. Andy and his grandson have done construction work all their adult lives. They know their nails.
(How is it that Ed’s the worst dressed of the lot? He tells me that the jeans are only now coming into their own.)
And speaking of nails, I admired a set. In rows. For a nail gun I’m told. Here, next to the bronze statue.
Ed’s mother was an artist and her art – paintings and sculptures – at the moment is propped up in various rooms of the farmhouse. Bare rooms, unfinished rooms. Now with construction tools and figures made of bronze.
Having never gutted a building this old (okay, having never gutted any building), I didn’t realize that it is much like going for your medical checkup when you haven’t seen a doctor for decades. One thing leads to another and before you know it, you need tests, surgery and two limbs removed, or at least replaced in parts. At the farmhouse, the chimney’s out. This reveals the inadequate support that has always characterized the building. As walls come down and warped door frames are removed, a rotting floorboard comes out of hiding. And so on.
You cannot be in a hurry. The house wont let you rush through the job.
But, the day is delightfully buoyant. That late February light is playing across the fields and you can’t help but be thrilled at the sight of this older farmstead, there, in the grove of fruit trees and weeping willows, with a tall silo, plainly visible through the bare branches.
They say the sap will start running in about two weeks. And soon after, surely a few crocuses will sprout. Thrilling thoughts. Energizing. For all those hauls with heavy loads.
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loving the progress - tell Ed he's a amazing - old jeans and all!
ReplyDeleteThis is beginning to remind me of the Ship of Theseus. Will it be the same farmhouse when you are finished?
ReplyDeleteDiane: can I tell him he's amazing and not say anything positive about the jeans?
ReplyDeleteElliott: If a doc replaces your knee, you're still you, aren't you? I should clarify that we are not knocking walls down except where they are crumbling. The integrity is preserved. Unfortunately. The place is and will remain a mishmash of unnecessary spaces. But at least they will be solid unnecessary spaces!
From the glimpses of partially completed rooms, it looks like the farmhouse is light, bright, cheerful and quite charming -- even if the spaces are unique. I have never renovated anything so it is great fun to see your progress.
ReplyDeleteI was going to suggest that Ed's jeans are ready to make some big money in a boutique shop. I guess the cold doesn't bother him.
ReplyDeleteBarbara: In some spaces it is very bright but in the two most important ones -- the kitchen and living room, the lighting is mixed. Because of the addition of unnecessary spaces that block direct light. You know, for a long time we were hoping that a good wind would come and knock the thing down and so that we could start all over. But, after five years of waiting,we decided that the old girl is too sturdy on her feet to crumble. So, onwards and upwards.
ReplyDeleteBut you are correct -- some of the rooms are positively flooded with light. And there are spots where you can stand and look outside to the north, to the west, to the south and to the east. Fantastic, after living in a condo where you could only see to the south.
Lee: the man is never cold, except when he is asleep. And yes, when I comment on the jeans he tells me that they look exactly the same as the ones my older daughter wears. Except hers are not from Farm & Fleet and cost -- well, let's not even go there!
Hi Nina. Just catching up and noted your lack of light problem. I have friends and neighbors who have solved this by installing tube windows, that end in a little glass mushroom on your roof. Just a thought in passing through.
ReplyDeleteG.
George H.: It's the central room, the living room on the ground floor that for the most part has to make do with borrowed light from other rooms. It's not dark, but I would have liked a million rays of sunshine streaming in on a winter day. And the kitchen, too, has a large unfinished porch before it. A shame. But, there are other spaces. Imagination and innovative rearrangement of spaces help.
ReplyDelete