Another Project

Pete, our next door neighbor at the camp, always has a project.  It’s good for him.  Everyone who lives in the woods should have a project.

The current one is his sun room.  He has planned it for many years, and now he is making it happen.  He works methodically, and usually without help.  Earlier this summer, his son PJ gave him a hand, and the rafters started going up.  I happened to be around at a point of readiness, so it was time to finish the rafters and get the sheathing on.

Rafters complete at this point.
A few are double for snow load.
It's good that PJ helped get this rolling.

The eaves hang far over where the slanted southward-facing windows will go.  I asked about the amount of sun entering the room (second-guessing is a good reason to work alone), and Pete assured me that though the August sun would be largely blocked, the low angle of the rays in December and January will penetrate far into the room.  I can buy that, but I still suggested a between-the-rafters long and skinny skylight to brighten the room.  I don’t think that is going to fly due to concerns about snow piling up.  

Long eaves carry the rain and snow away.

Pete is either levitating or standing on a wire milk crate.

All the plywood went up, with lots of grunting and groaning. Though I am eligible to collect Social Security, I got to be the young monkey, climbing up and down from atop the roof to the ground as the situation dictated.  It’s good to be young, and it was good that Pete had a young guy around, since I’m not sure his wife Mary would have been able to help bull the plywood sheets over the rafters and on up to their proper positions.  

A thing of beauty.
Don't try this unless you are a skilled professional.

She was certainly pleased that the job was not hers.  The hors d’oeuvres the first day and pizza with salad the second expressed her pleasure.  And the beer.  I think we did a pretty good job of removing all the Ommegang from the house, but I don’t think Pete had any problem with that.  I was glad to have helped out, regardless of reward.

Very tired from all the lifting and screwing the more-than-long-enough fasteners through the plywood and into the 2 by 8s, I joined my wife Mary (it’s so confusing) on our dock.  The wooden bench proved too hard, so I dragged the second of our plastic strap lounge chairs out alongside Mary’s.  The pine sap came off with a liberal dose of WD-40, and I assumed the proper position to read about the operation of the SU carburettors under the bonnet of my MG Midget.  Gotta figure out that choking problem.  More appropriately, Mary skimmed Adirondack Life.

Even though there was almost no wind, we were pleased to find that the flies had taken the afternoon off.  The sun played hide and seek behind the intermittent clouds.  Though it became almost uncomfortably hot in the full sun, the respite provided by the interceding clouds balanced the intensity with cool recovery periods.  Soon the printed matter fell away unread, and time slipped away.

Stewart's Landing Epic

Mary went off to do some shopping

While I prepared to go kayaking

And the sky above was absolutely blue

But our plans were changed abruptly

when a storm came in quite swiftly

soon after we had bid a fond adieu.

Her task was almost through

When the manager boo-hooed,

"Leave your carts, folks. 
We have been hit"

The man found it very frightening

to be the target of the lightning 

and he didn't want any further part of it.

Meanwhile, I heard the thunder rumble

saw the dark clouds in a jumble

and thought, 
“Maybe I should turn my boat around."

I paddled like the devil

atop the water level

and still dry, arrived upon the solid ground.

I sat on the porch of my chateau

enjoyed the crash and lightning show

and absolutely missed the urgent ringing phone

So Mary called the neighbors

and asked them for a favor

to make sure that I had made it safely home.

They arrived, knocked, and entered,

found no one and then departed

since I was soaping up, hidden in the shower.

Reporting back to Mary

they found it somewhat scary

that I might be a recent victim of wind power.

When I was fully dried

and the howling winds had died

And I was, post-shower, feeling really great

I’d heard the last of thunder

but I began to wonder

So I called to see why Mary was so late

Then I got the story

heard of lightning strikes and worry

And of kind concern for me, on this occasion,

So I called the folks next door

“Be very careful!” I implored,

“There have been nearby reports, of home invasion!"

Mist rising after the storm.