Perhaps that explains my corollary fascination with built-in beds. There is something so– so– nnnnnng* about a bed built in to a wall, complete with a door, lots o’pillows, and maybe even curtains to hide it, that when I was designing the house I made a bed-sized nook in one of the kids’ rooms, thinking that someday I might build a bed into it.

That day came last Saturday. For less than $50 for raw lumber and a sheet of OSB, friend Fred and I built a bed nook in one afternoon.

After a bit of drawing and a lot of measuring, we built a horizontal frame out of 2x4s, hanging it from the walls about 8″ below where the knee wall meets the sloped ceiling. This leaves just enough vertical space for the mattress and blankies. We slid the OSB in on top of the frame and nailed it down; to prevent the mattress from snagging on the rough wood surface, I then stapled an old sheet down along all edges. Now the platform was ready for the mattress.

For the doorway, I cut two 2x10s to fit between floor and ceiling, and secured them with a vertical 2×4 brace nailed to the wall behind each one. The top of the doorway is made from 1×12 boards of pine shelving, about $6 each at Home Depot. We cut a curve in one and tacked them up one below the other.

As you can see, for the kids it was love at first sight. To prevent arguing, hey will take turns sleeping in the bed nook. it’s Abby’s turn for two weeks, and in the meantime Katie spent two nights (and the better part of three days) curled up underneath with a book and a reading light. We’ll use that space for storage eventually, and a door on that opening will complete the nookiness of the bed on top. It still needs to be stained, and I have to concoct some kind of ladder, but there you have it. From notion to drawing to tools to reality in about three days. Love that!

* While making this noise in your throat, cross your arms, grab your shoulders, and shiver as if you’re feeling snug. See? Nnnnng.

Next time I build a shed (which will be next spring; I have to redo the wood shed before it collapses under its own ugliness) I’ll do it like this. The bike shed, so named because we prefer to store bikes and other outdoor miscellany in a shed rather under (or next to) a tarp on the ground, is about 16’ wide x 8’ deep x 4’ high in the back left corner, growing to 6’ high in the back right corner because the hill goes downhill. It’s a leeeeetle bigger than I would have wanted at first, except that upon inspecting a likely locale I discovered two grand firs, both about 10” in diameter at the base, growing 16 feet apart.

“Eureka,” quoth I. “This here’ll keep me from havin’a plant da poles in concrete!” I figure attaching a hefty crosspiece to two live trees is a way to ensure that a)if securely nailed, it’ll not fall down even in heavy snows or strong wind; b) the attachment will only grow stronger through the years; and c) I won’t have to mix me no concrete, which is perilously close to Work.

Then I discovered a bin at Home Depot containing those magical devices: “10-inch galvanized spikes.” (Insert heavenly choirs here) Lo, thought I, these beat 16-penny nails all hollow. They look like the granddaddy of all 16d nails. They look like the grandaddy’s granddaddy, and then some, and they’re galvanized, so’s they don’t rust. I promptly dropped a 40’ dead tamarack on the hill behind our house, chopped it to length, hauled up one end to 10 feet above ground on a ladder, and drove it into the tree at that height using a 5-lb. sledge. (Not as easy as it sounds, but the holes were pre-drilled, and I had already driven the spike clear through the tamarack pole.)

Once that was done, I had a crosspiece for the front. I set up the back one similarly, only there I dug a 2-foot hole for two treated fence posts we go from a friend, notched out a “V” on the top of each with a chain saw, and dropped another substantial pole for the back crosspiece.

You see the results. The rafter pieces are 3” diameter tamarack, and I’ve left the branches of the live trees wherever possible since branches bust up falling snow, ya know. In this picture I’m starting to put on the 1×4 roof cross-supports, while Abby and Natalie pick their way beneath. Once the cross supports were on, Emma and I screwed down the corrugated roofing. Now Jess has the walls wrapped in tarps, and all the bikes have moved in. The result is sown at the bottom of this page.

I’m proud of myself. The greenhouse was a fiasco, but I can redo the wood shed, and I plan to do so next spring.
Consider the following:

Wood shed: scrap lumber.
Bike shed: Good solid tamarack poles
Wood shed: various mismatched nails.
Bike shed: 10” galvanized spikes and “pole barn nails”.
Wood shed: Remains standing only because it’s stacked full of firewood.
Bike shed: Remains standing because I found substantial hardware (and two trees) to hold it up, and because it’s so dazzlingly handsome.

Long, long ago when I was considering trading in my old Camry for a four-wheel-drive something or other, I wondered if I should buy an old pickup truck. For various reasons, I opted not to; and though I’m glad we have the Jeep, we’ve had to make do occasionally. For example, when we built our house we fit much of it inside the Jeep and BGF. Sheet lumber, closet doors, cinder blocks, you name it.

Last fall (sheesh, has it been that long already) I was driving to work when I saw a trailer for sale just outside of town. It was older, looked home made, and had a slightly disheveled air about it; but the tires were in great shape and it was decent size (5’ x 12’, with 2’ high sideboards—enough to hold a cord of wood). Besides, we would only use it about eight times a year: six cords from the hills, and a trip each in spring and fall for manure. I called the owner and asked what he wanted for it; when his asking price was only a quarter of what I expected, I stifled a gasp and said I’d take it.

I spent the next year (!) trying to get a hitch for it. Here’s a hint: Don’t buy a Reese Towpower Class III hitch and expect their hardware will fit your 2002 Jeep Liberty. It won’t, no matter what they tell you. I ended up buying a brand new hitch and getting my hardware from the co-op in town, and it works like a charm. And now we can use the trailer.

A couple of weeks ago I took a couple of kids up the road for a load of wood. Our gravel road turns into Forest Service Road 203 less than a mile away, and our backyard (not counting the freeway corridor 50 miles south of here) contains thousands of square miles of national forest and public land. That’s pretty handy to have behind your house. We have enough firewood for this year, I think, but the leaves are already starting to turn, and I think any extra wood would be a good thing. We didn’t even make it all the way up to our huckleberry patch before I saw a whole congregation of downed trees off the right side of the road. I whipped out my trusty chain saw and, three hours later, we came grinding back down the hill in low-low gear with a six-week supply of wood (about 1 cord). Katie rode all the way down on top of the woodpile, bouncing like a spring when we went over bumps. Becca hopped out at the bottom of the driveway, asking if she could ride up on the top of the Jeep. Sure, why not? It took about a 27-point turn to get the whole kit-n-kaboodle turned around at the top of the driveway, but we finally got it aimed right and the kids and I emptied the trailer out. Now all the wood you see here is split and stacked up back by the propane tank, doing its best to dry out in the temperamental fall weather. It may not get used this year; if not, it’ll sleep under tarps and snow all winter, awaiting its turn to spill its sunshine into our warm home.

And that’s just the commercials.

Meanwhile, we’ve had to discontinue our internet connection via Verizon Wireless. It worked fine to start with, but we lost the signal for a day or two and when I was finally able to reconnect my connection was sssssssssslllllllllllllllllllllllooooooooooooooowwwww, even slower than our dial up. And that’s saying something. (How slow is our dial up? You could eat dinner while a page was loading.)

So we’ve succombed to satellite internet by WildBlue. (They gave us a better deal than their competitor.)It’s the only option for us out here. Satellite is a unique technology: it seems to be nearly universally despised (cost, speed, unreliability), but out here nearly universally used. Now I know why.

And as for all the ickiness I so gleefully condemned above? Isn’t the Internet more slimy than television? Three answers: 1) Not possible. 2) We strictly govern our kids’ use, Jess only uses Gmail and Facebook, and I never have time for Internet anyway. 3) We use NetNanny.

Now it occurs to me that the oil still isn’t changed in that vehicle, and I’ve already installed a new oil filter. Oil level is too high. I should drain off some of it even though the old yucky stuff is now well mixed with the new stuff and probably cramming the new filter full of old glock. Oh well, if it’s not one thing it’s another.

What does this picture have to do with the BGF? Oh, nothing. It’s just that I had it on my flash drive, and today it caught my eye. I’m pretty tired this afternoon.

This is Harrison Lake from my campsite taken a couple of summers ago. The peak, which I drew, is off to the left. But I think it’s pretty neat the way the land drops off just at the edge of the lake like this. Maybe I’ll have to make this into a drawing sometime. It’ll have to wait until I have time to do it, and money to scan, frame, and ship it out. But if you like the idea, let me know.

Our dogs will stop at nothing!!!! to destroy Jessica’s plantings. Flowerbed? Dig it up. New lawn? Dig it up. Newer lawn? Refuse to play anywhere else; chase each other relentlessly for eight hours a day until the grass seed is ground to powder. Fence? What fence? Doggie repellent? That’s for city dogs. Flowerbeds strewn with rose branches bearing vicious thorns? What’s one punctured paw pad–I have 19 more!

Jess’ response this year was to build a compound in the front lawn. She took my sledgehammer and pounded steel stakes around the perimeter. She wrapped a double layer of our garden fencing around the stakes. She fastened the fence to the ground with stones. She made sure the dogs couldn’t come up the steep cutaway in front and slip under the fence; and she gave them a little gap to pass by in front so they wouldn’t have to try to jump over it.

Then she scraped up the hard soil with a rake, scattered seed, and added lots of manure. You can even see some of the pine shavings she threw down in an effort to soften the ground. Recent rains have kept it moist; now all we need is a bit more warmth for a while. She’s added abundant seed; she’s bought a 25-pound sack from the local feed store and put a quarter of it down inside this compound. (This is in addition to the grass seed I planted last fall.)

So far, her fence is working. There’s no sign of green grass yet, but it’s early. Her plan is to plant half the lawn at a time, and move the compound over to the north side when grass on the south half is well established. It might take a few months, but that’s better than nothing. Between the energetic dogs, the hard ground, and the poor mountain soil, the grass has a hard time. But with much protection and even more manure, it may grow.

Now we have to deal with the birds. They’re eating the grass seed.

(Sorry for not catching it sooner. My life is already so full as to strain credulity, but last week I was called to be the president of our local branch of the Church. I am glad and grateful for this call [I enjoy Church work more than anything else on earth], but it does mean that my attention is somewhat scattered.)

Well, last week was the annual ritual known as Missoula Childrens’ Theater. This year’s production was Jack and the Beanstalk, and we had four kids participating (Emma as pianist, as usual). We were coming home late from a rehearsal and remembered that the poultry had not been “put to bed” (our term for locking them safely in at night). I stopped the BGF at the garden driveway to drop off Emma and Becca,, so they could put the birds to bed and then come up to the house. But as soon as they opened the car door,

Hoo-EE! Skunk bomb.

Judging by the strength of the smell, Jess and I was sure that the skunk had sprayed (as opposed to merely walked by). We thought we knew who the lucky winner was. And sure enough, for the fourth time in his young life, Hank had received the honors.

Fortunately Jessica knew what to do. Hank smelled so bad that she wouldn’t even let him in the house for his bath, as previously. So she brought a bucket out to him filled with the following potion:

2 gallons warm water
1 T dish soap
1 bottle hydrogen peroxide
1/2 box baking soda

Those are the precise scientific measurements (I think). The amazing thing is that this potion works. When washed thoroughly with it, not only will a dog not smell like skunk—he won’t even smell like a dog. He smells like nothing. The stench is utterly neutralized.

Well, it worked again. We’re just hoping Hank doesn’t encounter any porcupines.