We're under construction. Still. So what's new? There's still a tablesaw on the front verandah:
In what will be the living room, we still walk around lumber, sharp and dangerous things. My study's a shell of a room filled with sawdust and pink insulation. Unfinished we are. But...here we are.
Gilles, the deeply dimpled Frenchman designed the house around an existing cabin (one room plus loft.) He's been building ( every nook and cranny ) ever since. Without a blueprint. With the exception of five weeks when the frame went up, it's been a one man operation. Yep. He's my hero. Mostly I don't complain. He wears a toolbelt. This still makes me drool. Lately people have been asking how it's going or saying encouraging things like "well the house must be done by now, eh?" Well.. no. We wouldn't have this house if not for the carpenter. The labour is free. Materials are not. And he's building, yes, but he's also creating.
It will be a work in progress for as long as we are here and able. Incidentally, he's much further along with the house than I am with THE NOVEL. I'd rather be painting chairs.
Chairs: 7.50 each, material 20 bucks. Painted while listening to CBC Radio 2 In Concert. A perfect afternoon it was. I've christened them my Paolo Pietropaolo chairs. When not painting funky things, I play with rocks.
Dig in dirt. Plant things.
But here's the grunt of it. Here's where we were two years ago, May 2010:
Here are some shots from this morning—June 2012.
Wee orchard planted last week—plum, cherry, apple, pear.
Front view with rock pile:
And why we are here to begin with—
Latest project—side steps. This involved a lot of math. A lot. When Gilles got to the top step he was off a few inches. This could be a building crisis. But no. He had to recalculate—all the way from the bottom. And he figured out how to do this without having to rip up what he had done. He teaches me, this man.
The porch building will continue while the weather is nice and in the fall we'll come back in and tackle the unfinished empty places. I will finish the novel. (Yes, I tell myself, I will!)
A lot of life has happened in two years. A lot of death, too. A lot of splinters and unforseen happenings. Sore muscles. Arguments. Celebrations. Paint splatters. Bug bites. Grateful hearts.
Step by step. We go one day at a time. One step at a time.
photo: Kate Inglis