A. just loves the weekends. And me.
Yesterday's project was to build a gate for the new pasture we enclosed for the rams. We've built several gates in the last couple of years, all out of lumber scavenged from old barns and fences. But that wood has all been turned into barns and chicken coops. So what did we do?
If you guessed that we went to Home Depot and bought wood, then you are WRONG. And also, have not been paying much attention to this blog. SHAME!
We're cheap, remember? We have many trees growing in the gully. In case you didn't know, trees are wood. (I KNOW--you're astounded by my brilliance too, aren't you?) Problem solved. A. took the chainsaw out into the gully and cut down a couple of little, but fairly straight, black walnut trees. Then we hauled them back to the house, where we split them. With wedges. Like this:
The sledgehammer belonged to A.'s great-grandfather, Papa.
The wedges were Papa's, too.
History lives at Blackrock.
Ta da! Gate pieces.
We split them so there would be flat sides to nail together. Then there was a lot of measuring and hammering, some searching for small logs for cross-pieces, the attaching of hinges, and the discovery that this gate is one heavy sonofabitch and will therefore crush Kristin's toes when she shoves her foot underneath it to lift it for hanging.
Hi, I am not so smart sometimes.
But the gate was hung in the end (on hinges that I bought and that A. said were too small, with much eye-rolling about how ignorant I am about hardware, but then we put them on anyway and the gate swings just fine, so HA!), and has a very nice, decorative rustic look. See?
Welcome to the homestead.
Live trees to a gate in two hours. Yes, we do indeed rule. Thank you for noticing.