Today was perfect for another hard-driving work day at the tiny cabin construction site. Three of us went up again, this time without all the dogs, who stayed home in our backyard. (Barley only got in a little trouble here all day unsupervised. This means he is maturing.) Mr S-P went up yesterday with a huge load of building supplies, staged at the parking spot, and he made one trip up with stuff before he headed back. Today we took another load of lumber on the roof rack, and bags of bolts, tools, snacks, and assorted small pieces of lumber. The men loaded up the modified bike trailer with wood, and one pushed that up the hill while the other carried a few boards on his shoulder. I left first, while they were loading the cart, assuming that I would do like I've done the last few trips, and stop three times to sit on the ground and catch my breath on the long, steep, uphill section. To my amazement, I never sat down once. I stopped often, but for only short respites to let my heart pound a few beats, and then I kept going. Even laden with two heavy tote backs full of wood, large bolts, and liquids, I was able to climb up the steep part, across the clearing at the county line, and start back down toward the claim before my neighbor passed me carrying long boards. This is a huge victory for me, considering a month ago my muscles were refusing to support me and I barely made it there and back. (It helps going back on the anti-virals that keep tabs on the virus that causes chronic fatigue syndrome, perhaps?) I never ended up taking a second trip back to the car, recognizing that I was used up and wouldn't be able to make a second climb, but I still managed to make myself useful at the building site. The men made multiple trips, with Mr S-P going three times and our neighbor going four. Ah, to be eighteen years younger and healthy enough to do that. I'll never see that sort of energy again.
The changes we accomplished last time we all went were dramatic. We put up walls and stretched a tarp over the top to keep out rain, and we went from a dance floor to a gazebo. Today we created two mini-walls. Not sure what they are properly called. Knee walls? Roof supports? They're maybe a cubit tall -- as in the distance from a man's elbow to the tip of his fingers, and they are the small verticals under the barn roof to come. Stuck on either side, with rafters strung across and the roof decking temporarily stretched across the rafters to serve as scaffolds for the tall peaked walls where the windows will be, the end result was going from a gazebo to the skeleton of a Good Times hamburger kiosk. It didn't look like significant work, but overall, today was huge. The upper wall that will have a non-opening window looking out over the long view is at the construction site, and on top of the scaffolding (back under the tarp). It will be the next to be constructed, and maybe, just maybe, the opposite peaked wall will go up on the next trip to the mountain. There is still much to do down here, while the Mr figures out exactly how the roof trusses will go, decides on cladding and insulation, and trims the metal sheathing so he doesn't use up the batteries on the hilltop to cut it up there. Even knowing how much is left, we are starting to imagine a world where this tiny cabin is completed before the tourists clog the mountains for fall foliage tours.
On every other trip to the mountain, the men folk had beers in cans, chilled by the stream, while I was left with water or an iced tea that I bought on the way to the mountains. Last week was the first time I was included on the "cans of adult beverages" menu. I was provided with hard ciders, and I felt like one of the club. Today I turned around and realized I was sharing my drink with a raggedy-edged butterfly who found my sugary beverage compelling, and most likely intoxicating. He came back four or five times, but every time he actually opened his wings to reveal his rugged orange beauty, he flew off before I could whip out my camera. That capricious little boogerhead escaped me every time. Mr S-P got a picture of his wings open, but he never sent me the photo before he fell asleep. (Granted, we were all so tired when we got home that I am not surprised he conked out. Our neighbor assumed he and Barley would fall asleep on their couch, the moment they got home. We never heard another peep out of them, so I bet that's what happened.)
I have artistic elements I have been allowed to spearhead for this project. I'm quite excited about those things, and I will start sketches soon for the big stuff. Not sure whether I will show them in progress or wait to reveal when they are done. Today Mr S-P described his idea for a name for the property and a sign he wants to make to identify it. I'd like to make the sign for him, but I don't have permission to take that one over yet. We'll see whether he lets me. I have the feeling I have as much chance of getting that green light as that drunken butterfly had of flying straight.
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