Coulda been us!

On the afternoon of June 23 while driving to the farm to check on progress (or lack thereof, our construction team having absconded to a neighbouring farm to work on another new home), I noticed a very black, ominous, and sulphurous looking cloud boiling away on the horizon.
Safe in the relative comfort of our trailer, I looked through the window to see the monster heading toward us, intent on doing damage. A wall of water slapped into the farm buildings and as the trailer began to rock violently in the wind, I finally wondered... "is this a tornado?  And in that case, what ought I to be doing?" Duh!

However by the time this bright thought occurred, the rain had diminished to a dull roar, and Bob was coming through the door of trailer. He had stopped into the local SPCA and the wind pressure was such that he couldn't even open the door of his car. We checked. Other than the occasional branch lopped off a tree, no problem and the barn and house still had their roofs.

Yes, we were survivors of the Midland tornado, which ripped along nearby highway 12 demolishing buildings and trees. We were lucky. Mother Nature always seems to have a special hate on for trailers. This time she chose the trailers beside Little Lake park, fortunately most were weekend residences vacant at the time, but it could so easily have been me blown away in our trailer to the Land of Oz.

But back to business. By now the tempo has picked up. A full scale, sit down meeting with our contractor, instead of the usual-off-the-cuff quick commentary while running through the house.  A procession of contractors pitching air-to-air and geothermal heating systems. A kitchen contractor, Jim Lansing, who was very nice not to laugh at my bad hand-sketched kitchen plans. A huge number of decisions, made on the fly, which we may just regret afterward, about where to put items like washers and dryers, doors and the like. And a first meeting with our roofers, Randy and Louis, who are attempting to put on our complex multi-angled roof. Now, all they - and we - need is a few days of no wind and sun, to get this job on the road, because not much can be done until the roof is on and the house closed in. A good thing we have them to blame for the slow progress, because, by dragging our feet and not getting our act together for electrical, decor and heating decisions, the finger now is starting to point to us!

The ominous sounds of silence

While renovating their Toronto house a few years ago, friends of ours rented a tiny one-bedroom apartment. When it came time to move into their new, highly modernized home, they experienced a strange reluctance -- the reluctance of people who have discovered how liberating it is not to have much stuff, or much more than a couple rooms to worry about, and a very good excuse to eat out at restaurants. 

Except for always finding one another at the kitchen sink, I expect Bob and I will feel the same on leaving our trailer, which has pared life down to its basics - so basic that getting rid of dirt is now just a matter of a stiff broom and an open front door.  I arrived at the farm late Thurs nite. More progress -- the breezeway between garage and house has been constructed and plans that always looked kind of weird to me now seem completely comprehensible.

However, the next morning, instead of the usual sound of hammers at 6.30, there was only bird song. Silence is beautiful, that is, until you connect it with the fact that nothing is happening. Our work crew, it seems, has moved up and on to build a new house 2 concessions over for Brian Ritchie, the son of our neighbour Dave. They are taking advantage of the fine weather and the break that opens up because you can't do anything much more until the roof goes on. This may be sooner than expected. As of today, Monday, the steel for the roof had arrived and the roofers will soon make the scene.


The individual who didn't make the scene as expected on Friday morning, or even Saturday for that matter, was our electrician Paul. Just as, unusually well dressed, we stepped out of the trailer Sunday morning to go to church, he appeared. Walking a house with an electrician and making critical decisions is bad enough when you're in good shape, but just try it when you're starving. We left him to walk the property while we went to church. Soon we were back and since he was still there we ignored stomach rumbles and went through the tough job of deciding on lights and outlets. Found out, during the process, that we had better get our act together and do some space and furniture planning! Not that I have any confidence in my ability to do this type of thing...

Above: a new breezeway now covers the space between house side door and garage. 
Bob trims back the red pine that has dropped some limbs to the crane and other machines. 

The Septic Tank Mountain

Well, I promised to warn folks about dumb things we did/ shouldn't have done when building a house in the country and here's a good one: don't build a septic tank mountain.

The blame is not really ours. While it may not show up on the accompanying photo, the installer of our septic bed saw nothing wrong with creating a huge hill to accommodate the septic instead of properly preparing this area with sand and then excavating downward. Problem is, there is now no economical way to fix it except to try to landscape around it, and the hump, as we call it, makes this  lower field, one of the few arable places on our farm, unusable.

Can you tell that I am ticked off?  How did you guess!  This is the type of thing that a contractor should discuss beforehand and sort out with the homeowner, who just may have plans that don't include  a ski jump in the backyard!

Other than that, the second floor is now shaping up with a spectacular view from the deck that takes in Georgian Bay including the ski runs across the lake at Blue Mountain, and from here, you can't see the backyard bump at all.

Son Greg, visiting from Brazil, takes in the great view from the 2nd storey.  

House trussed & taking shape

Like giant pieces of a jigsaw puzzle, and definitely not one of the quick and mindless variety, the roof trusses for the house and garage were assembled on Friday. Less than ideal conditions, i.e. mostly streaming rain, did not cramp the style of contractor Peter Wanless and our intrepid crane operator.

A real show of skill: contractor quickly sorted out out what went where and attached the rope; crane operator lifted the individual trusses way up and over roof and trees, turned them to face the right way, dropped them into the outstretched hands of the installer, then dipped the crane to undo the rope and traversed back to the field to pick up another truss, all in one rapid, fluid and almost continuous motion. Neat!

In the supersatch conditions of Friday, the work ploughed on without any concessions to the weather, even wet weather gear, except for "the contractor's raincoat", a handy garment made by cutting head and armholes in a garbage bag. My shoes squelched through the mud as I walked the distance between barn and trailer carrying the essentials for our new home. After all this time moaning about the lack of rain, however, who can complain?