Had our coffee beneath the Sentinels again. One more time and we'd have ourselves the beginning of a ritual. Soughing of the breeze in the needles above for rhythm. Bird song and stream riffle for melody. A pair of kingfishers smoked by like a couple of fighter jets off to save America from the red peril. I figured they were looking for food. Maybe snatching rising bugs out of the air or diving in the Aspen after minnows. Emil didn't think so, "As far as I know the kingfisher is partial to moose eggs and cherries jubilee. Seems the bird and the moose have one of those relationships, symbiotic or something, where one helps the other. Mooses have a sweet tooth for underwater roots as does the kingfisher. However, there's no way a little bird can uproot a large plant. So they get the leftovers a moose passes along free of charge. And the cherries jubilee sets off the pungent eggs just right." I figured Emil's observations were the price I had to pay for getting paid. The work itself was fun, in a miserable kind of way.
Our task for the day was simple enough had it been done on the floor. Oddly enough what we were assembling above our heads was a floor. When we hopped aboard the deck all our material was in place jumping up and down in anticipation. First off we turned the three saw horses into a platform by joining them atop with two by eights. We assembled the platform along the west wall and leaned one end of the long beam atop. Once aboard we hoisted it well onto the wall's sill. Made sure we had a solid half foot of overhang. Easier said than done. Moving to the east wall we repeated the process, being careful to not overcook pulling the beam onto the sill for fear of dropping the far end. Wouldn't have been the end of the world but in no way did we want to lift that bugger any more times than necessary. Easy does it was said more than once.
Here's where I'm supposed to write everything went perfect. Not a hitch in the process. But it turned out the center post was a hair short, "Archie me lad, that is no problem. We'll just cut us a shim out of scrap plywood. The hard part will fall on your shoulders. Being the overlord of this project I've chosen you as my beam jack."
While Emil stood on the stepladder I shouldered the beam at the wall and tippy-toed it up a couple of inches. Had to be careful to not let the beam flop sideways. We had it on edge just like we wanted. A flop to the side would put undo pressure on the nails and possibly loosen what we'd spent hours pounding tight.
Getting it on the walls and tree didn't take long, maybe fifteen minutes. Getting the beam dead center and square with the side walls was the challenge. Like Emil said, I was the beam jack. Lift and move, lift and move. First one side then the other. Emil provided the eyeballing. Five moves of the platform and we were dead on Emil's marks, ready for the bracing. L-shaped, pre-drilled angle iron did the job nicely. Tied the beam and brackets together with heavy duty screws.
"We're done with the beam for the moment. Eventually the wall brackets will come off. We'll tie the beam to the rafters when the roof is framed and trim the ends flush with the roof decking." Emil paused, looked skyward, "The roof will have to go on eventually. No doubt about it. Don't think that beam'll shed enough water. Let's see if we can get some of the joists up by lunch."
I hauled twelve foot, two by eights while Emil marked off the hangers. Grunt work was fine with me. Hard to screw up. This cabin was my uncle's baby and his worry. All I was doing was making the delivery go smoother. When we began back in June I figured my uncle knew what he was doing. Better than a month had passed and he'd done nothing to shed that notion. Yup, he had 'er figured out alright, down to the eighth inch. Could have danced three elephants on the floor. No doubt in my mind the building would outlive him. Probably me also.
Hanging the double two by eight beams that'd carry the lookout joists was another putz job calling for step ladder, platform and careful measurement. We spent more time moving and inching stuff around than we did nailing. At least the hangers on the main beam couldn't move once they were secured. Out on the sill the smaller beams were once again held in place by angle irons. 'Course they'd also have to be removed when the roof was framed. Two steps forward, one back.
By afternoon's end we were putting decking onto the lookout joists. And the view from above was worth the price of admission. Could have seen all the way to Lake Superior had there not been hills and trees in the way. Emil would have to settle for a partly obstructed view of the brook which was exactly what he'd wanted all along. Lucky man.
"Archie me lad, another fine day's work. Watching this building grow out of the earth has been a pleasure. Being the cause of growth, even better. The summer's not yet half over and we're most of the way through the framing. The thought crosses my mind now and then how much faster it'd go were I twenty year's younger. Then I remember I'd be doing this alone. Would've definitely needed the sky hook. Maybe two. Guess it's better to have waited."
We sat on the one sheet of plywood we'd nailed down and watched the world go by. This was one of those moments when I could feel the planet beneath me spinning along through space. Not as fast as a tilt-a-whirl or we'd have been thrown off our perch. For the moment all was right with the world. Such moments don't last long. 'Specially when you've got a nosy uncle like mine.
"Don't suppose you've killed or raped anyone. Archie me lad, you also don't appear to be an arsonist. At least I hope you're not. Haven't said anything to lead me to believe you're a pacifist so whatever the issue you have with goin' in the Army can't be all that important to anyone but you."
"Yup, that about covers it."
"As for me, all's right with the world. I'm sitting on the best trout stream in the state. At least for me it is. The brookies aren't fussy, not all that big and probably not of much interest to the outside world. When the cabin's done I'll be able to crank open the casement windows I've got on order and sleep to the sound of water on its way to the Pigeon River. It gives me great comfort to know my spit could eventually find its way to the Atlantic Ocean. Might even be evaporated into rain and someday fall on my head as I'm flipping flies. Yes sir, there's nothing quite like being able to spit on yourself through the efforts of time and Mother Nature. No doubt about it I'm one happy man."
"Uncle Emil, I haven't registered for the draft." No forethought, it just came out.
"The hell you say. Is that what's bothering you? I figured it was more on the level of having written letters to the Kremlin concerning all those nuclear secrets they teach you in schools these days." Emil paused a moment in thought, "As I see it you don't have much of a problem at all. One of these days you'll wake up, find the need and go talk to the Draft Board. Simple enough. When you do, be humble and ready to volunteer for the draft. Won't be easy but like I said, one day you'll find the need, might even find you and it'll be simple."
"I suppose you're right. But I sure don't see how it'll ever be simple."
"It'll seem simple once you've done it. Archie, you take yourself too seriously. Probably think you're God's gift to the world. If so then let me have the honor of telling you, you're not. Problem is you're eighteen years old. Haven't been anywhere or done anything of consequence. Haven't had to figure your way out of a big mistake. Gettin' square with the Draft may very well be your first. In a sense, you're fortunate to have done something that dumb."
With that we went quiet. Listened to the whirr of the dragonflies. One landed on my shoulder and remained 'til we rose, descended the ladder and started dinner.
No comments:
Post a Comment