SEPTEMBER 2, 2025 – When I stumbled into the (warm, dry) cabin out of the rain at 9:35 this morning, I announced to my wife that before the rains had cut short my all too brief work session up on “Mount Pergola,” I’d accomplished three things: 1.With no effort whatsoever I’d found the Lutz screwdriver attachment that yesterday I’d dropped accidently from the platform and declared lost after a 10-minute search was declared a failure and called off; 2. I’d gotten my clothes totally soaked in the rain; and 3. In my hurried descent from “the summit” to seek shelter from the rain, I’d inadvertently stabbed my right hand on the pointed ends of a pair of hand clippers (in a total absence of irony) that I carry with me whenever I venture into the tree garden.
The good news is that the Pergola-on-the-Platform is now coming into its own. Yesterday I installed the spindles to the railing on the west side of the structure. These now add a touch of refinement and provide a satisfying preview of the finished project. I’d naively assumed that attaching the spindles would be a proverbial piece of cake. How many places in the world have I seen a deck railing with standard 1-1/2-inch cedar spindles spaced four inches apart? Any dummy could do the job in no time flat . . . except, perhaps, the dummy who just wrote that.
A bit of background is in order here. Back in July our friends Ann and Ravi yanked out their 50-foot-long cedar ramp and deck from the back of their house in St. Paul. The 25-year-old wood was tired and forlorn from so many years of Minnesota weather. Over a card game one evening they casually invited me to scavenge to my heart’s content—but soon, before it all got hauled away to make room for a “new and improved” deck and walkway.
The invitation struck me as a corollary to “Friends don’t let drunk friends drive,” namely, “Friends don’t let hoarders hoard.” But I didn’t say anything for fear that my wife might veto the “offer” and my “acceptance.” To her credit, I must note for the record that she did just the opposite: For days running she urged me to “go pick up what wood you want from Ann and Ravi before it’s thrown away.” To my surprise, she was actively encouraging my hoarding instincts.
A few days later found me in Ann and Ravi’s backyard, using my power drill in reverse to remove three dozen cedar spindles, along with a few long cedar 2 x 4s that I figured I could repurpose as treads for the “Grand Staircase” I’d envisioned for the Pergola-on-a-Platform. (It shouldn’t surprise the reader to know I salvaged all the deck screws as well as the wood.)
Since then, all the reclaimed wood has been stowed under the porch at the Red Cabin. Last Friday brought me to the project phase in which the cedar spindles would play a leading role. Under dry, sunny conditions, I hosed and scrubbed the three dozen spindles, and to my pleasant surprise, when the quarter-century-old wood had fully dried (by sunning itself on the dock), it looked almost fresh off the lumberyard lot. I then dressed up the spindles with two coats of high-end, semi-gloss white paint, rendering them fit for show at the royal palace autumn ball—or at least at the modest ribbon-cutting ceremony I plan to stage in October.
But installing the repurposed spindles turned out to be far more time-consuming than I’d anticipated. To achieve uniform spacing and to ensure that everything was square took focus and yet another “do-over” (in a series) when I discovered I’d inverted the railing to which the upper ends of the spindles were to be attached. I cried foul. To be more precise, I shouted out a whole string of expletives. This outburst caused me great internal tension and caused me to consider that this disproportionate reaction was not good for my health. But then I wondered—what was causing greater stress . . . belting out the actual swear words or harbouring the frustration that had caused me to swear?
As I pondered this question while standing on the platform beneath the pergola, a large deer glided across the trail not more than 10 feet beyond the north end of the structure. The deer paid me no heed, and in the broad light of day I watched the animal as it gradually disappeared into the woods. I remained undetected and realized that inadvertently I’d designed and built a deer stand; a comfortable station for one several deer hunters to congregate during the last week of November for a shot at some venison. For an American second I considered the feasibility of renting out the tree garden to deer hunters to generate a little income to apply against the annual real estate taxes and other projects. Yet, just as quickly I struck the idea from my consciousness. What was I thinking?!
In any event, after a couple of hours of on- and off-again rain, I returned to the pergola to complete installation of the double railings and spindles on the western side of the structure. I was delighted with the result, though I was fully aware of how long it had taken me to complete the railing phase of the project. I was hoping the deer would return so that I could tell it that under my watch, at least, it had nothing to fear.
Tomorrow, I’ll install the east side railings. The pergola will then have a fuller look, with features that will readily distinguish it from your garden variety pergola. I can then move to the biggest design challenge of all: the “Grand Staircase.” Stay tuned.
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© 2025 by Eric Nilsson
