Two Wheels Move the Soul

There are any number of ways to unwind when the stresses of everyday life get to be too much, but I have to say that throwing your leg over a motorcycle, firing it up, and soaring down some twisty back-roads with nothing between you and the rushing wind but a helmet and some well-worn leathers ranks very high on my list of favorite ways.

Motorcyclists like to say, well, lots of things, but one is that you never see a motorcycle parked at a psychiatrist's office. A good long ride with your mind focused on all the details of riding safely, while going out of your way to enjoy the road, can help you put things in perspective, even if it's just because whatever worry or trouble you've had your mind spinning around can't take your whole mental bandwidth while riding. Sometimes it's just as simple as giving yourself the chance to be distracted by good clean fun.

You know that look on a dog's face when he's got his head out the window of a car, ears and tongue flapping in the wind, eyes gamely squinting away the force of the air, a big old doggie-grin catching whatever scents and tastes blow by? Bikers understand that; we revel in the changes of the air as we move from field to forest to town to lakeside, in knowing that we can reach down and touch the road with our soles whenever we want, in the silent uncritical camaraderie that is the biker-wave. (Most bikers offer other bikers a quick wave or a nod, just to say, "Hey, good day!")

Today I met with friends who were riding out for a two-week journey, off to join many other friends along the way. I've gone with them before, and will again, but this year I'm staying home and putting my energy into other things. Being able to ride partway, escorting them for a ways and yelling bon voyage as we parted was a nice way to participate just a little bit anyway. Tucked somewhere in their gear is a bottle of my mead to share with the others, too. Ride safe, Johnny Bongo, Jingles, and all the others, but put a little extra into a couple of bendy-roads for me!  

Jingles and Johnny Bongo all loaded up.

Taste the air, my friends, along your way,

For danger, roses, diner food, and rain.

Exploring's not the same as gone astray,

Connecting mountains, rivers, back-roads, plains.

How to Pull a Nail

Pulling nails is an important part of reclaiming used boards. You can start with a porcupine of pine and finishing nails, and with a bit of patience end up with a perfectly good ten-dollar board. Sure, it'll have nail holes and hammer-marks in it, but those just add character. When I use these boards, I give them a light once-over with a sanding sponge, so no splinters are threatening, and use them as-is, aside than that. The slight variations, the evident history of the boards, and the marks from removing nails, screws, and staples, all add charm to the finished project. 

Add a couple of screwdrivers, and you's set!

I know that a lot of people know how to clean up a board, but I bet some don't, and there are a few tips that can help. Here's how I do it. First, some tools...I like to use a pair of sawhorses to work on instead of a workbench or the floor. With nails sticking out of both sides of a board, it's easier to hold it flat on the sawhorses, and they are a good working height. Other tools are a claw-hammer, a cat's paw, a splitting wedge if boards are nailed together, a small board for a fulcrum, and for larger nails, a wrecking bar. For removing staples, flat scredrivers and an assortment of pliers are handy, and for removing screws, a screwdriver, cordless if you like, with the appropriate working tip.

Finish, twist, ring-shank, common.

Nails come in many types, but basically you have a couple of variables. There are plain shanks and twisted- or ring-shanked nails. Flooring nails are an example of ring-shanked, and there are a number of twisted nails, which are designed to stay in place without backing out. What this means to you, in removing them, is that they need to be pulled harder! Plain nails pull out much more easily.  The old-fashioned rectangular nails, called cut nails, come out very easily too, as they are tapered. Once they get started, they are loose immediately. 

The other variable is the head of the nail. Common nails are the ones with a head that is like a tiny coin shape. Those are easier to get a grip on for removing. Finishing nails are the ones with just a little dimpled bump on the top, and they are harder to get a grip on. Sometimes a large pair of pliers work better than a hammer on those. 

Let's say we have a board with three nails in it. One is partly hammered in, with the top end sticking out some. The second is hammered all the way in, and sticks out the other side. The third is hammered all the way in, but isn't long enough to stick out the other side.

The first one is the easiest. All you need to do is slide the claw of the hammer under the nail head, put a board under the hammerhead if there is room, and if you want to avoid denting your board, and pry out the nail. Easy-peasy!

Some nails to pull

A scrap board helps

The second one takes two steps. First, turn the board over, bend the pointed end of the nail with your hammer until it is straight, and pound on the point, driving the head back out the other side. Then turn the board back over and pry it out like the first nail. 

The third one is where the cat's paw comes in. There's no way to hammer the pointy end, and the head is flat or buried so you can't get the hammer claw under it. The cat's paw is designed for this; line it up against the nail-head, and bang it with the hammer right on the curve of the paw, driving its claw under the nail-head. Then pry until the nail comes up a little, and then you can use the hammer on it as above.

Hammer it under the head, then pull

Pound it back through

Once you have all of the nails, screws, and staples removed from the board, you have a usable piece of wood to be proud of, and some nails that you can straighten out and use again. Nails are expensive, and re-using them saves you money as well as the environment. The two basic ways to straighten a nail are to either lay it down on scrap-wood and nail out the bends, or to unbend it with one or two pairs of pliers. It's easy, and doesn't take long.

Channel-locks work as a lever

One last caution for you; if you are planning to cut the board, or rip it to a different size on a table-saw, be VERY thorough about looking for nails. Recently I missed a couple of nail ends that had been cut off with a reciprocating saw during someone's demolition work, so there were no points or nail-heads showing. When I was putting that two-by-four through a table-saw to make a pair of 3 1/2 inch boards, I hit them, making a dramatic shower of sparks, and dulling my thirty-dollar blade terribly.

Now that you know how, I hope you go out there and scrounge up some good usable boards from scrap-piles, transfer stations, collapsed barns, any number of sources, and that you take pride in giving that wood new life in your own projects!

Cordwood Masonry

Having built my own cordwood masonry house and lived in it for over ten years so far, I have quite a bit of expertise, experience, knowledge, dare I say wisdom, about the topic. Some of it comes from quickly having learned how to do it well, and some of it is from having learned over time what I wish I had done differently. Put more simply, some of it I got right, and some of it I learned from by getting it wrong.  Finally, I have a chance to share that experience; my long-time friends Ben and Kissy over in Appleton have decided to build their own very ambitious cordwood masonry house!

The home at Ironwood Hollow

Cordwood masonry is a little-known alternative building method in which you lay up short pieces of cordwood (16-inch long cedar in my case), with a specially-designed mortar. the ends of each piece show on both sides of a wall, so the effect is something like a stone and mortar wall, both inside and out. It has a number of advantages, which I'll go into in more detail later, but the two primary ones are that it is very affordable if you have the right wood available to you, and it is environmentally very sound. Using wood from my property that I harvested myself, and mortar, sand, and sawdust produced very nearby, the impact on the environment was very little. Oh, okay, a third advantage is that it is so beautiful. Most of the house goes up without nails, spikes, screws, foam, plastic, tarpaper, siding, and so on. The walls are beautiful, and last better, if you don't treat them with anything, inside or out, and don't cover them. This means, at least for the perimeter of the house, no drywall, no paint, no shingles, no siding, no foam or fiberglass insulation.

Adding details is just so much fun!

It also allows you to express yourself in your building, to include elements for style, sentiment, or utility, from stone and brick and broken pottery to drawers, reclaimed parts from other buildings, shelves, bottles, really there is no limit. The walls can be straight or curved (from side to side, not top to bottom), and can include some variety of wood types. Something that will show over time as we get into some projects inside is that my own style is quite guy-like. Light on color, heavy on things matching and being well lined-up. I am hopeful that my Honey will bring her touch to the place, and bring some by-God color to the predominantly grey and brown space. If so, soon the improvements and changes to the house will reflect her sense of style and beauty too.

My house is unusual, even for a cordwood masonry house, since I built on a hillside, on a block foundation instead of a slab, without a framework of timber, and have some sections of cordwood as tall as eighteen feet. The floor-plan is three-sided, with two long curved walls and one straight one, and three corners. From above, it looks a bit like an ark that grounded itself into Mellow Hill, and there are four different floor levels.

An oil lamp casts a cozy light on the cordwood.

I'll be coming back to cordwood masonry as a topic from time to time, as I annoy Ben and Kissy with my experience and advice, as I enjoy watching a new project of this scope take shape, as new puzzles remind me of old solutions, any time I think I have a useful bit of advice to send out into the world of cordwood masonry building. For now, I'll just say that I love my house as though it is an extension of myself, and wish for Ben and Kissy that they may find the same satisfaction as their dream home takes shape literally in their hands.

On Being Alone

I'm reading Weight of Stone, the second volume of Laura Anne Gilman's fantasy series, The Vineart War. In it, the main character, Jerzy, finds himself alone for the first time in his life, just for a few hours. He has always been in some company or other, always working alongside somebody, sleeping in a space with others, told what to do and where to be. The experience of being completely alone unnerves him, leaving him frightened and uneasy.

Apple Valley Books or your local Independent.

This struck me as something to think about. Of course, with my love of the outdoors, there have been times when I have been away from humanity entirely for hours on end, snowshoeing, hiking, motorcycling. But in the more general sense, I grew up in a family that held me close in a fine way. I went to school. I never went more than a month without being in a relationship. I never lived alone.

Until now. For months now I have been alone at home more often than not. Evenings fixing a solitary dinner, nights with nobody to reach for, mornings with only cats to talk to. I don't listen to the radio much, and don't have a television. I don't have internet access at home. By "alone" I mean much more alone than most people think when they hear the word. I am not looking for sympathy here, don't get me wrong. My phone is always within reach, and when it rings it is either my sister, my mother, my father, a good friend, or, best of all, my Honey. I am loved, and have places to go where I will be hugged. My Honey spends all the time with me that she can. We've been moving carefully toward living together, not rushing, so as to give the kids time to adjust to me, this new guy in their life. I know there are people MUCH more alone than I am, so crushing solitude is NOT what I'm talking about.

I find myself imagining what other solitary people hear in their heads as they go through their days. As for me, I'm typically male in that whatever project I'm working on takes up 95% of my brain most of the time. I can be working on the railings for the stairs, and have nothing in my head but "32 1/4 inches, remember to turn it the right way, don't forget to bring the drill bit back up the stairs, that one has a nice twist in it, will be pretty, 32 1/4 inches, are there enough screws left in the box, probably going to have to sweep up after this..." Nothing but all that AND an awareness that my Honey will call sometime before bedtime, that I am doing this work because I want our house to be a haven for the whole family, that soon there will be teenager radio, the thump of a basketball on the porch, the smell of food cooking that I'm not stirring, the give-and-take of floor space, quiet space, bathroom time, that come with a full house.

All that is in my head too, and I don't feel alone. I feel beyond lucky, beyond blessed, to know that even though nobody is in the house with me for a few hours, even though the thrushes sing me to sleep, the chickadees wake me up, and I talk to the cats more than to anyone else, I am in somebody's heart, and that, for a long time to come, there are people I love who need me and love me too. Solitude does not mean loneliness.

Scooby and I talk a lot.

Back to Jerzy in the fantasy novel, what happens is that, right away, he finds an amazing inner strength, a magic that surprises him. In the real world it's not that simple, but I know, right up there on the short list of things that I know beyond a shadow of a doubt, that truly loving someone, the right someone, the one who knows me fully and loves me anyway, means that I am never alone, that my life is far better than it ever could be without that love. The proof is in where my mind goes when nobody else is here. My thoughts don't go to the Bahamas, the upcoming football season, or whether the fish might be biting, but to the fine constellation of love that fills my heart-space. And that makes me want to write another love-song, which just may be my own magical response to being alone while I work toward our life together.

Nesting

I am nesting. Have been for months now, and the whole process is culminating in a way that makes my toes curl and my stomach get the best kind of butterflies. I've been building my house for the last 15 years, raised a daughter in it during much of the process, and often look around when I am alone here, unsatisfied, seeing unfinished edges everywhere. Things like ceilings not painted, doors not trimmed out, floors still only exposed plank in some places. Everything has changed now, though; I am in love. Crazy in love, in the kind of love that fills my heart to overflowing, that has me writing love-songs unabashedly on a weekly basis. The kind of love that always used to make me sad when I saw it in a movie, read it in a book, heard it in a song, because I knew I didn't have it, though I wanted it more than anything. 

So here I am, a grown man feeling like a teenager in some ways, alone in a very unconventional unfinished home, with the woman-better-than-my-dreams moving in, bringing her kids, her cats, her enthusiasm, her own hopes and dreams. Am I excited? Oh, Hell yes. Nervous? Well, of course. Prepared? Oh, boy...

Some of that reclaimed wood.

For months I have been making room, hoping against hope that she would say yes. Several unfinished rooms had become, over the years, floor-to-ceiling storage areas. The "utility room" is simply mounds of tools, scrap wood, totes, motorcycle gear, with just enough room for a litter box and a bowl for cat food in the middle. The "library" was, until not long ago, simply filled with boxes of books, the mismatched shelves stacked with rugs, photos, paperwork, unwanted nicknacks, camping gear, and the like. The "balcony" was blessedly hidden behind some stapled-up batik fabric and overflowed with mead-buckets in various stages of production, books, lumber, junk, empty boxes. We're not talking about clutter here, but about whole parts of my house that couldn't be navigated without a flashlight, a duster, and some climbing skills. 

I'll be coming back in detail to some of the specific projects, but for today I just want to touch on some of them briefly. The bathroom, for years mostly finished, is finally getting its corner trim, small slats of cedar customized from cedar closet-paneling. The outdoor shower, long a fond dream, came together in two days of intense soldering and drilling, and now needs only some enclosing and floor-surfacing. The balcony and stairs are getting a complete make-over, railings made of peeled hemlock saplings. Watch for that entry; for the cost of some screws and just a handful of three- and four-inch boards, I am building what would cost hundreds to build conventionally. Saving lots of money, at the same time as conserving natural resources, is great when you can do it, and I'll talk in detail about how this works for me.

Almost ready to tame the wild railing risers.

The library is empty now, and I've been surfacing it with reclaimed lumber from the transfer station, my goal to finish the room with only the cost of screws, nails, and paint. One wall is surfaced completely with cupboard and other doors. A built-in bunk and a secret cabinet are further signs of nesting, wanting so much to have two girls find it beautiful and magical as their new bedroom.

What once was going to be a study for me, then morphed into a guest-room, can now be home to two teen boys. Since I made it from my boyhood dreams of "the perfect bedroom," I have some reason to hope that they will like it, secret shelves, hanging chair, curved walls, and all. Am I prepared? Not yet, but working on it is indescribably satisfying.

This journal will be about much more than my nesting, this process of making my home suitable for my Beloved, sweeping, fixing, improving, building; today that is my focus, but as my new life, OUR new life, grows, many other facets of this love-filled path will find their way to these pages, and I will try my damnedest to bring you inspiration, motivation, hope, beauty, song, art, and goodwill.