Finally, there was a break from the harvesting. The countless hours spent picking, processing and canning were finally over. We would still need to pick the dry beans and fall peas, but most of our food preservation is complete.
Now, it’s time to tackle a project so large and complicated, I’ve managed to delay it for months, maybe years …
We need a dry chicken run. The wet spring led to decreased egg production, and a variety of other problems. However, we had to wait for everything to dry out before we could build a permanent roof over the run.
I began carefully and attentively listening to my wife’s plans for the run. Unfortunately, that’s where the problems began. I must have had my married ears on again, as I can’t remember anything that she said.
I used my yellow pad of paper and my lucky pencil to sketch out the architectural renderings of my plan. I didn’t draw the structure from the front and side views, not because I didn’t want to, but because my architectural drawings look more like a third grader trying to intentionally throw a coloring contest. But it’s the best that I can do. It’s even more difficult to write up a bill of materials for the project using the cartoonish impressionist picture that would act as my guide.
I eventually went to the hardware store and began loading up the van with lumber. I grabbed 2x4s and 4x4s as the main constituents of my project. The number of boards is a closely guarded secret that can only be counted by looking at the half dozen individual receipts that I have from going to the same store for the same boards on each separate occasion.
I found that the minivan will hold a couple of big pieces of wood and about 20 or so 2×4’s easily, assuming I remove all the trash the kids leave scattered around the back seats. Unfortunately, I didn’t discover this until I had tried to transport the same amount of wood by removing the seats.
Although I was able to lay the wood flat, I had to move the driver’s seat forward. And once the back hatch was closed, I found myself inching the front seat forward even further. Standing at 6-foot 2-inches tall, I eventually found myself so far forward into the dash that the keys inside the ignition were pressing on my knee so hard that I left a temporary branding mark on the inside of my leg. I could hardly avoid laughing as I found myself stuck between the steering wheel and the seat without much room for my body. The harder I laughed, the harder it was to steer because my belly was interfering with the articulation of the steering wheel.
Sucking in my stomach and trying to make myself as small as possible, I could only laugh at the position I found myself in. Like a sumo wrestler in a fighter jet, I couldn’t have been more uncomfortable navigating my way home. The only thing I could think of is, next time, I should bring a cow with me, at least they’re entertaining.
To be continued…
