It became apparent yesterday, as I was removing the board and batten doors from the garage, that I will have to make lounging provisions for Boose, our yard cat. She likes this tall shelf which will have to go when I put an inch of spray foam on the walls
I will have to make her something similar in the new layout so she can feel at home. The perfect spot ,high and isolated. I watched her get to the top shelf and acrobatics --more accurately, catrobatics involving careful and considerate route planning and execution were required. I was impressed. And yes, just a little envious.
This was a pic that Jo took and shows why the new garage roof is required. When the roof was first installed it's ingenuity would have been pretty impressive. The top ridge line was covered with transparent green house plastic to let the light in. After time it deteriorated and peices of plywood was added to cover the leaks. It doesn't look like any preservative was used. Without it a low pitched roof like this would deteriorate fairly rapidly.
The building to the left is the large pole shed that I am considering for a drive through equipment shed. It's big enough; the problem is that the foundation appears to be some large rocks, and not enough of them. Still the bottom plate appears sound.
This overview shows the house and three sheds. The little shed to the right is destined to be the high rise chicken house for the meat birds. The "red shed", destined to be the green house, is hidden behind the large shed with the rust coloured lichen to the left of the photo. The camper - well that's overflow housing compliments of my brother in law Grant and sister Echo.
So many projects. Oh well, one at a time.
I really got a good lesson on this yesterday. I was pulling the nails from the old garage doors which were heavy and sagging on some poorly secured barn door hinges. The thing came apart one nail at a time. As much as I would have like to multi-task the operation, to speed it up in some way, it just couldn't be done. One nail at a time. Grab the clinched over ends with a small goose neck and straighten them. Pound them back. Flip the door so I could get a four foot goose neck nail puller to work. Easy, "Cinchey", as my youngest daughter Treena used to say. A phrase she used 15 feet on her first rock climbing adventure with Jo-Ann and I.
One nail at a time. After a time all the nails were gone and the boards neatly stacked in the wood barn ready for re-use.
Jo-Ann was admiring my handiwork ( I assumed that smile on her face was admiration..) and spotted a few nails left in the gravel floor of the garage. I had raked the floor several times to get rid of just such tire puncturing caltrops . This necessitated a trip to town to get a magnet on a stick. It's true: I like things on sticks. This one was designed for picking up just such errant metallic tire magnets. To my surprise, in short order, I managed to get several handfuls of nails; large ones, small ones, staples, the small deadly roofing ones and ring nails - the kind that go in and don't come out.
All this "de-nailing" produced a large coffee can of nails and screws from tiny finishing nails to ten inch spikes. And I may have answered the question of why men insist on keeping cans of bent nails. At first I thought I was operating with a delusion that they could be re-used. But the last time I straightened a bent nail was to assist with a tree house construction and I was 10. No, my current theory-until I get a better one: we keep them as trophies of our projects. Each bent and twisted nail an undeniable record of our labours.
If anyone knows of any 10 year olds building tree forts or such I have a bonanza for them. They may have to collect pop bottles to pay for the postage ..