MAY 8, 2021 – When our neighbor John wandered over to the Red Cabin last weekend, my wife asked him if he was keeping himself busy. After a deep sigh, he said, “I’ve probably got over a hundred projects underway.” For John, that was no exaggeration.
After chatting awhile, he jumped back on his trail vehicle and motored away. About time! After all, he had a hundred projects underway. I’d been feeling a little overwhelmed with the dozen that I should have in progress. But I don’t live in Projectland full time, and besides, I’ve learned to take projects slowly.
When I was younger, more flexible, and subject to more distractions, I moved on projects much faster than I do cow. Too often in ancient times I tried cramming a two-weekend project into a single Saturday afternoon. This frenetic approach to fixing or building something didn’t square with the concept of . . . enjoyment.
I’ve since found that a major cabin project is like a musical performance. Ninety percent of the fulfillment occurs in preparation for the stage—learning a new piece of music, unlocking its musical secrets, experimenting with technique and interpretation. It’s a wonderful combination of mathematical precision (theoretically speaking) and artistic expression. Now I approach cabin projects in similar way to how I “get into” a new piece for a future recital. I savor the process even more than achievement of the targeted outcome.
My current central project is our grand-daughter’s treehouse. Originally, it wasn’t my idea originally. I’d had a dozen other projects on my list, but a few weeks ago my wife mentioned that “it would be nice to build a treehouse” for Illiana, who likes to correct us when we say she’s “five.” (In fact, she’s “five-and-a-half.”) Next thing I knew, my wife found people on “Next Door” who were offering their considerable stock of lumber to anyone willing to dismantle their 20-year-old, backyard “playhouse.” (See April 5/6, 2021 blog posts).
What my wife had in mind was a treehouse of the sort I slammed together—on a Saturday afternoon—when our two sons straddled Illiana’s age. I used (very) scrap lumber, a hammer and saw . . . and a few nails. I might’ve involved a tape measure, but I definitely didn’t use a square or a level. The result looked like a classic treehouse—built by kids, not a dad—and it actually held up much longer than it should have.
In my less frenetic phase of life, the treehouse project has become a major engineering operation. For example, I’ve actually calculated the tensile strength of an array of fasteners and settled upon a carefully selected assortment of bolts, lag screws, and regular wood screws of varying sizes. Back in the day, I simply grabbed a glass jar of miscellaneous nails from the workroom shelf and pounded the big ones into the scrap wood. This time around, I drew blueprints. I’m picky about my (“scrap”) lumber. I’m using a level, a table saw, and a collection of precision tools.
Beat that, younger self!
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© 2021 by Eric Nilsson
