Saturday, January 24, 2009

God said no

I came home this Saturday morning with a load of 2x4s and a couple of sheets of plywood: oh boy, hen house construction can finally begin.

I've been mulling over the design and daydreaming about construction issues for months and weeks. The girls and I tore down their old playhouse several weeks ago. We salvaged what we could and found the 8x8 floor was in great shape under the sodden plywood floor.

Now, I could to finally take hammer into hand. Nail down that plywood. Frame up some walls. I even had a used prehung door I bought at Habitat for Humanity's Restore.

I do OK with a hammer, a drill or a circular saw but I've never tackled a construction project this ambitious and Saturday was the day.


God had other ideas. Like rain and a cold front. For you Northerners, that meant the temp plummeted from the upper 60s to the lower 60s.

It wasn't much of a front. And, as Dr. Spouse said, "I am glad for the rain." It WAS a good rain. Small drops falling easy. Just right to wet the soil without washing anything away.

She helped me appreciate the rain. I just could have appreciated it even more on a weekday.

Since I couldn't nail, I sorted nails. And hammers and screws and rattail files and a variety of other stuff. Last weekend, Dr. Spouse and I started cleaning out our shed.

It's big for a shed -- 20 feet by 16 -- but it had become such a jumble that we only used the 20 square feet just inside the door. Venturing beyond could be dangerous.

We ripped out rotted paneling and matted insulation. We tossed old hoses and busted yard gear. We swept out old hay and piles of rat leavings. (I briefly wondered about composting ...)

In short, we resurrected the space. We now have room to hang flourescent lights for a seed-starting operation. We found tools we hadn't seen in years.

When the rain chased me inside, I spent a few hours sorting through boxes of tools, fasteners and junk from my late father-in-law. They'd been in the leaky shed for eight years.

Vintage power tools but most don't work. Hand-crank drills. Tee-ninecy screw drivers. Small handsaws of several flavors. And, a couple of dozen coffee cans full of nails, finishing nails, common nails, masonry nails, deck screws, metal screws, lag screws, carriage bolts, eye bolts and even a few regular bolts.

A few hours sorting left me with a cabinet full of jars and cans holding enough nails and screws to build a hen house.

Now, Lord let it be in your plan for some dry weather. I hope to don't mind if I try and get in some hammering on the Sabbath.


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