Every family has pivotal days that live in the reverently whispered lore passed down through the generations. Today's events will probably survive in our Smith family lore. After our long day of labor, we have the beautiful skeleton of our rustic mountain hideaway where our children and potential grandchildren will tell stories of how grandpa and grandma carried the cabin up the hill and built it with their own hands.
Our neighbor was kind enough and adventurous enough to join us on today's outing, and thank the stars he came with us. The Mr and I are of average height, but our neighbor is tall enough to handle key tasks that we couldn't have done without a ladder otherwise. Add to that he is younger than us and in much better shape than I am, and he was able to run three shuttle trips to the truck, carrying lumber each time. I made one trip (saving energy for tomorrow), and did a lot of percussive work at the top, digging out the French drain with a rock hammer, for another 6 feet (8 feet to go).
Between us, we built the other three walls, and raised them all. I'm not sure I can explain how different it feels to have framed walls, but I can say it is exciting beyond belief. When people talk about tiny cabins, they usually mean double the space this one has. This will be cozy, to say the least. Still, it is sturdy and the views are amazing. We only had the east and west wall frames up when a massive rain storm hit, and we got a tarp stretched over us and waited out the storm. Putting a roof over us, even one made of plastic made it all so real. We have actually done it!
All three of us took time to lean in the window and admire the view. It's truly special, and it's going to hold great joy for future generation to come. We made a legacy.
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