OCTOBER 10, 2025 – Yesterday I wrote about perfection. Today while working on the pergola I focused on details. Details can be quite apart from perfection, but perfection inevitably comprises details. As my dad said of musical performance, a “wobble” here or a “warble” there—details—might not matter, but the cumulative effect of too many such details can break a piece. He approached all tasks and projects that way, and it worked out well for him.
So it is with the pergola. My objective this morning was to finish the second railing of the front “Grand Staircase.” I had to depart the Red Cabin at noon, which required assigning a premium to efficiency. This imperative compelled acute focus to optimize use of my time. As I set things up—tools and materials—I found myself paying much closer attention than usual to . . . details.
For example, in setting up my tools, I organized them according to the sequence in which they’d be deployed instead of parking them helter-skelter on the steps, decking and ground surrounding the project.
Another example: selecting the appropriate diameter drill bit to each given size screw, taking into account the wood to be drilled—green (treated) pine, untreated pine, or cedar—and whether the role of the given fastener was “hold” or “support.”[1]
Yet another detail was the protocol for holding loose drill bits and driver bits; again, not placed randomly but always put in the open drill bit case so they wouldn’t be lost. Today this practice prompted attention to another detail: placement of a sheet of plastic immediately under the work area so that if a drill/driver bit or screw were dropped accidentally, the item could be easily retrieved. Several times during construction, I’d dropped a deck screw or drill bit not more than three feet to the ground and had to waste five or 10 minutes looking for the darned thing. It’s amazing how a piece of metal can hide out among leaves on the ground. I’m convinced that screws and bits have microscopic feet and camouflage properties that allow them to play hide and seek at the expense of the person careless or luckless assembler. As I learned to my chagrin today, though, this detail of laying down some kind of “safety net” requires attention to a coordinate detail: weighting down the corners of the plastic sheet so it doesn’t blow away.
Then there were the details regarding the use of all-important clamps—such as ensuring that I kept my work gloves out of the way of the clamp; not placing the clamp in an area where I’d intended to drill; and putting the “long” end of the clamp on the correct side to give myself more freedom of movement.
Another critical detail was keeping things square and level—and constantly checking elements that had yet to be installed permanently. A corollary detail was, “never trust an ‘angled view.’” That is, never try to center placement of a piece without a square or at least a square-on view.
Another detail I’d considered was planning ahead and reviewing a checklist before hiking “up the mountain” to the work site. I’ve made scores of trips up and down the trail to and from the site, lugging tools and materials. Too many times I’ve forgotten something critical—a square, an angle-finder, a back-up battery for the power drill, or a certain size screw. Today with laser focus I ask myself, “What do you need that’s not already up there?” and when I returned to the cabin and removed my safety glasses, marker, gloves, etc., I paid close attention when I set everything down. “Remember, now, exactly where you’re putting all your stuff.”
The most crucial detail, however, must always be safety. As an aging individual, I’m acutely aware of increased fall risks—tripping over things—and worst of all, falling down steps. Accordingly, I’m obsessive about keeping walkways around my construction site free and clear of tools, materials, and wood scraps. My über obsession is keeping the platform steps as clear as possible and when I must put tools and materials on them, I go into “detail” mode by shunting them all to one side—the same side—and when I myself move from one step to another, I pretend I’m an astronaut engaged in EVA—“Extravehicular Activities”—without wearing a tether. This requires slow, deliberate movements, ensuring that every footstep is firm and secure before moving on to the next.
What I enjoy about life is how experiences in one field of endeavor can inform tasks undertaken in a completely separate activity—notions of perfection, for example, and a grasp of details, of tactical points, that together can help mold effective strategy and lead to something to “write home about,” if you’re the kind of person who still writes letters home.
Yet, when the day’s accounting was complete, by a factor of infinity the most notable detail was no detail at all but an occasion at center stage in the grand scheme of our lives: Beth and I treating our 10-year-old (in two days) granddaughter to a celebratory (birthday) night out at her favorite sushi bar—The Sushi Train in downtown Minneapolis—followed by a production of Treasure Island at Children’s Theater, and a post-show dessert at Café Latte. We could travel the world over and not find more delightful company and conversation.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
[1] The general rule is to use a drill bit that matches the shaft of the screw; i.e. the threads of the screw are visible on either side of the bit held up against the screw. I generally follow this rule, but again, taking into account the density of the wood and the role of the fastener. In some instances, however, I make exceptions, as when I’m drilling through wood three-quarters of an inch thick and less than an inch from the edge or end of the piece. A screw won’t hold as well if the hole is too big, but on the other hand, if the hole is too small, the risk of splitting the wood increases.
