Posts Tagged ‘log home’
Repair Begins
No sooner had I dropped off Cyndie and Elysa at the airport yesterday, when I found myself sanding the siding boards on the shop/garage. Our treasured log professional, Matthew, showed up to unload his trailer of tools and his ladders, just as I was finishing my lunch. We kicked off the project of tending to our weathered wood with little in the way of fanfare.
Around the edges of the entryway roof over the shop door, the siding has failed to stand up to the abuse from constant snow and water contact. Matthew will be replacing boards where needed and working his chemical magic to fill voids and neutralize decaying logs where possible.
I put in time sanding spots where the previous coat of sealant had peeled up. Everything I can do to make Matthew’s job easier is money saved, and I do like to save money. Unfortunately, I also like to get the grass mowed, and I can’t do both. I won’t be able to give as much of my time to helping Matthew as I’d hoped.
Cyndie asked me to pay attention to her strawberry garden and try to pick berries before squirrels and birds get to them. She also wants me to watch the landscape pond and keep the filters clean. Which reminds me, I need to check the horse waterer for algae growth and regularly clean it while Cyndie is away.
Having Cyndie be away for so many days raises my awareness of how many things she normally takes care of this time of year. It gives me renewed appreciation for how much she accomplishes every day.
Ooh, I need to remember to water the house plants, too.
Only ten days to go until she returns… I hope I can keep everything alive, healthy, and running smoothly until then.
.
.
Busy, Happy
The first pass through the group stage for each team in the 2026 Men’s World Cup has been completed. Today begins the series of second matches for the groups. For the broadcasters and the fans, there is no rest. I don’t know how a person is supposed to watch each exciting moment and also continue to fulfill their daily responsibilities. Sacrifices need to be made.
I will miss seeing the first game today because I will be driving Cyndie and Elysa to the airport for their flight to Amsterdam, and ultimately, Norway. It’ll be Asher and me managing the ranch for the next 11 days.
We won’t be completely on our own, though. We’ll have the support of our property-guard-snakes keeping watch over the goings on around here.
The bigger of these two knows its way around the shop garage. I spotted it the other day, slithering on the top edge of a stack of cardboard leaning against one wall, about chest height.
That explains the discarded snake skins we frequently find in the vicinity. I sure hope they are controlling the rodent population in the building.
I started scrubbing the wood paneling of the shop/garage yesterday, but had to hold off on sanding it until the rain stops and the wood dries. We have retained the services of a log building expert to repair and reseal areas of both this building and the house, and I will be doing as much of the prep work as possible to reduce the cost of the project.
In addition to that work happening while Cyndie is away, we are expecting a visit from This Old Horse personnel with vaccines for the horses, a farrier appointment, a first-time house-cleaning appointment by a local start-up business out of Ellsworth, and I need to drive Asher to a grooming appointment in Baldwin.
Between all of that, I need to keep up with the usual mowing and, if possible, continue trimming back the vigorous growth encroaching on our grass trail around the north loop and all of the trails through the woods.
The fluttering leaves of the poplar trees down by the road were putting on a show in the breeze between rain showers when I rolled our trash and recycling bins down yesterday evening. There is a pretty healthy expansion of that grove, which we are very happy about.
As I reached the top of the first rise in our driveway and took in the view of the variety of lush trees beyond the barn and hay shed, I felt a deep appreciation for our little forest.
It is always such a striking difference from the months when all the branches are bare after the leaves drop off in the fall. When our trees look happy, it brings me great joy. Despite how muddy it has made the area just beyond the barn overhang, I am grateful that the rain over the last few days appears to be providing the trees with all the hydration they need at this time.
.
.
Showing Age
It feels like a Saturday morning around here, for no obvious reason, especially since weekend days are rarely different than the rest of the week for us now that we have no employment responsibilities. The weather, the horses, the music we put on during breakfast; they all influence in some way, but I suspect it is something deeper in my unconscious.
I composed an email yesterday to kick off planning for my high school class’s 50th reunion next year. Funny, how it triggers recollections and reminisces of people and places from so many decades ago, even as I carry on with my current routines, tending to our property and animals with hands that look like an old man’s.
My long-term effort to use the winter accumulation of manure in the paddocks to create a rise over a drain tile is coming along nicely.
The horses haven’t paid much attention to it lately. Some years, there has been a lot more evidence of them messing around along the edges of the pile. I look forward to them doing that to break up the dried manure that rolls to the bottom, to mix it into the existing, predominantly clay, soil.
We are in a bit of a dry spell that has finally put an end to standing water in the low spots of our trails through the woods. It has also dried up Paddock Lake.
The horses have been working on expanding the borders by their antics of stomping and kicking around to get back up after they lie down in it. Their interest in it seems to disappear as fast as the water does.
They reached a fresh level of shedding over the last couple of days. This morning, we watched Mia pushing her butt so hard against the almost completely dead willow tree that it looked like it was going to topple over. She succeeded in scraping out massive clumps of hair.
A wild turkey gobbled in the distance, and the sun popped out for a few seconds between a sky full of thick clouds. The day seems like a Saturday with a mostly open agenda. A guy could go for a bike ride if he didn’t have a log home guy stopping by at some undetermined time to quote a wood maintenance project. Both the logs of the house and the log-looking siding on the shop garage are showing their age.
I can totally relate.
.
.
Try Listening
One of the clearest ways for me to recognize being awake at night is when I start hearing sounds. Usually, it’s the change from not hearing anything that I find noteworthy. Think about it. When I suddenly notice a sound, it reveals that I wasn’t hearing anything before that.
There is a different version of not hearing sounds, too. When they are too familiar to us, sounds begin to be filtered out. But that is not the same as hearing nothing at all.
Have you ever noticed how frequently TV and filmmakers include sounds of distant dog barking in their soundtracks? What that’s done for me is to cause me to notice when I hear that same distant bark in the real world. I’ve decided it’s as common as those filmmakers make it seem.
The other day, a large flock of migrating birds showed up in one of our trees for a short pause in their journey, making a fantastic racket. Suddenly, for no reason we could detect, they fell silent in an instant. That was something to hear.
I wish I knew who among the thousands of birds in that tree triggered the stoppage and how they all picked up on it and shut up as quickly as they did. Seconds later, they all started chattering again.
There is something that nobody should be listening to this time of year. Well, any time of year, really. Ridiculous lies of desperate people. Whether it seems too good to be true or irritates deeply, don’t give what is said any credence until it can be proven it didn’t come from foreign interests with skills in AI audio or video manipulation.
Assume it is malicious first, and then allow the truth to be revealed in due time.
With Halloween approaching fast, ghoulish drama is all the rage. All those sounds in the dark of night suddenly seem spookier than usual. I’m not one who fears mean ghosts are lurking in my house and making mysterious clicking, creaking, and sighing noises. We live in a log house. As the air gets dry and temperatures drop, the structure makes sounds like it must be coming apart at the seams.
Moving my body across the floor of the bedroom and down the hall to the bathroom at 2 a.m. sets off so much structural groaning, clicking, and popping that I feel like I must weigh three times more than I do. I’m always surprised the sounds don’t wake Cyndie or Asher.
Back to what I hear when falling asleep, I can tell when slumber is imminent when I notice the only thing I’m hearing is my own blood flow moving with each heartbeat.
When you reach that point, it’s handy if your hearing automatically filters out any sounds of barking in the distance.
.
.
Cutting Away
There’s no turning back now. The guys started cutting away the rotting logs of the truss yesterday under the hot rays of mid-sixty-degree sunshine up in the Hayward area.
The view of this cross-section shows the degree to which the log was disintegrating. They also uncovered the bees’ nest I knew was there. Good thing there were no bees present at this time of year.
We won’t be around to see them install the replacement truss components because we need to head home this morning. Alas, that gives us an excuse to return as soon as we can arrange additional coverage for the horses.
We have a new project to undertake because they also cut off the bottom of rotting logs on the front of “cabin 3,” located just behind and to the side of the main house. It was decided the best finish there would be to fill the voids with faux river rock, which is something they don’t do.
DIY much? It just so happens that Cyndie and I have an excess of faux river rock stored in the hay shed at home. As a matter of fact, some of the plastered facades of our home have fallen off and need to be re-cemented. That’s a project we have been ignoring for lack of experience.
Now we have double the reason to learn how to do this repair ourselves. The next time we come up here, I guess we will be hauling a load of one-sided manufactured stones and bags of mortar mix. In the meantime, we better study up on proper materials, tools, and techniques.
It will be tough to decide whether we should practice on our own house in order to do a better job up here, or the other way around. I could see it going either way.
My choice will lean heavily toward which option appears to be the easiest of the two. I’m hoping that answer will be revealed after we discover all the factors involved in the process.
In reality, cutting away the rotting pieces was the easiest part of this whole project.
.
.
Icy Adventures
We don’t usually spend much time up at the lake when the ice is about to vanish from the water’s surface. I find it very entertaining. Temperatures dropped far enough below freezing Sunday night that water to the shore, which was liquid when we arrived, had refrozen solid by yesterday morning.
As the sun climbed to a mid-morning angle, the lake began making a percussive symphony of booming and cracking sounds in response.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
There is an almost mystical energy unleashed by the intensity of natural forces pressing in multiple directions as the frozen surface reacts to wind, sun, gravity, the mixing of heat and cold, and the resistance of rocks and sand on the shore. When a fracture reverberates throughout the expanse of acres of ice, rumbling and echoing for almost a minute afterward, it can be felt in your physical core.
I notice my pulse speed up when it happens, and hear myself making sounds of appreciation that don’t actually form words.
The guys –brothers, Jedediah and Caleb– showed up to work on the rotting truss and were quickly introduced to Asher and some of Cyndie’s fresh-baked scones.
They installed extra (temporary) support to the deck and the bottom chord of the truss itself in preparation for assembling scaffolding for the job. After further analysis and some outside consultation, the decision was made to change to a “hammer truss” design for the replacement.
I’m looking forward to what they come up with. It should be easier to build and will eliminate at least one of the key points that was trapping water and triggering the rot. It will change the appearance of the front of the house and may take a little getting used to at first, but I am open to the possibility it may end up being more appealing in the end.
It will certainly open up overhead space on the deck and produce a more spacious feeling.
As the warm afternoon eliminated most of the new ice that had formed the night before, Cyndie and I let Asher have some fun along the shoreline.
He had a blast breaking ice and chewing some of the chunks. Falling into the water as sections of ice gave out beneath his weight didn’t seem to bother him one bit.
Icy cold doesn’t seem to startle him either.
It looked like so much fun, I needed to keep reminding myself I couldn’t step out to join him in the shoes I was wearing. That, and the fact that icy cold would absolutely make an impression on my feet.
.
.
Feeling It
It’s been over two years since I retired from commuting to a day-job and yesterday was one of the few days in that span of time when I fully felt the liberation of not being tied to a work schedule. Sure, I’ve thrilled repeatedly over no longer feeling dread on Sunday nights, but those have seemed like small victories.
Yesterday morning, I didn’t change my routine with the shift of clocks to Daylight Saving Time. It felt liberating. Around lunchtime, Cyndie, Asher, and I hopped in the car to head for the lake place. Leaving on a Sunday night to go up north felt rather decadent.
We can go to the lake any day we’d like. We are retired. And I am feeling it.
With only ourselves to accommodate, I enjoyed the luxury of ordering a cheeseburger and fries “to-go” from a nice lakeside diner along the route to fulfill a craving that usually goes unmet. It’s often not the right time when we pass by or there are time constraints, or some other random obstruction that prevents stopping there. Finally getting what I always think about when we pass that restaurant made it taste even better.
There was no traffic heading our direction, though we passed a fair number of cars returning to the Cities. Many of them were carrying muddy fat-tired bikes after a weekend of riding CAMBA trails.
There does happen to be a method to our madness for being here on a Monday. Some work on the house is scheduled to start this morning by a contractor that Cyndie arranged over the phone. This will be a chance to meet him in person and be on hand in case any issues arise in the replacement of a bottom chord truss under the eave on the lakeside of the log home.
Being the only ones up during the week this time of year feels a little disorienting. We can make a mess of the house and not be in anyone’s way.
Actually, the place looks a little like the empty mansions in the movies with covers over the furniture. Cyndie didn’t want Asher to shed on the couches.
There aren’t enough people around to occupy the furniture so he thinks it becomes his responsibility.
I doubt he’ll have any time to rest with strangers working just outside the windows all day long. I expect they will need to be barked at with gusto.
It’s either them or the squirrels.
I think maybe Asher is feeling the same as us. Seems to me this feels a lot like being retired.
.
.
Morning Sunlight
This morning when we emerged from the woods on our walk toward the barn to feed the horses, the rays of the emerging sunlight were blurred by a hazy fogginess. Back in the house, while we were enjoying toasted slices of fresh bakery bread topped with homemade blackcap jam, the angle of the bright sunlight was getting high enough to shine through the windows on our roof.
From up in our loft, I noticed how the light was washing over the spotlights above the fireplace, creating an interesting reversal of purpose. The spotlights were in the spotlight.
It caused me to turn around to see what was happening with the other skylight.
The shape of the window was pretty well defined.
Seeing that sunlight serves to beckon my presence outdoors posthaste. I will not ignore the invitation.
.
.
Appropriately Festive
There was a lot of nesting going on in the days prior to Cyndie’s knee surgery, much of it cleaning nooks and crannies that haven’t received a similar level of intense attention since the days we first moved in. She wore a headlamp to better see the dust clinging to the seams of our tongue-in-groove paneling.
If she would be stuck convalescing in bed, it sure as heck wasn’t going to involve looking up to see the horror direct sunlight reveals this time of year. The low angle of the sun has a unique way of exposing gaps in hospital-level cleanliness.
At least the surroundings are currently as germ-free as the best of recovery rooms in your average hospital. Well, they were for a day, anyway, before a certain dog and cat made their way back in to scatter their hair and dander every which way.
After all the cleaning was done, Cyndie moved on to the Christmas decorations. As the days counted down to the appointed surgery, she accomplished the greatest of feats in making it look as festive as ever around here.
I even found boughs strung with lights staged by the barn!
There may be a pandemic out there squashing the best of our holiday gathering traditions this year, but you’d hardly notice from inside our home.
Merry Christmas Everyone!
.
.
.
Freshly Sealed
At long last, the logs of our home have a fresh seal from the elements. Last year there were two primary maintenance projects that were both reaching burdensome levels of urgency against the elements: our deck and the walls of the house. We ended up doing the deck ourselves and hiring out the sealing of our logs.
The contract was accepted last year, but they weren’t able to get to us before winter arrived and so the work was rescheduled to first thing after the weather warmed this spring. That didn’t play out as we expected. It took until mid-July, but now the job is finally done.
Over the weekend, we got the resealed wagon wheels remounted on the front steps to cap off the completion of the weatherization of the house.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
.
The house looks good as new.
I’m very pleased over the professional opinion of the contractor who told us that our deck project looked well done and didn’t warrant any additional seal coat of its own.
That suits me just fine.
.
.
Relative Something 