Posts Tagged ‘construction’

Big Rock redux

Monday, July 12th, 2010

Last month our neighbors gifted us with a Significant Rock. It came on a Big Boom Truck – possibly the biggest vehicle to ever climb up our gravel road and I’ll stop with the capital letters now. The rock  has a rather formal placement exactly perpendicular to the front of the house and lined up with one of the window bays. People have actually stopped their cars in the road and commented on it. Then they go on to mention the garden, and their garden back home, and then inquire after lobster, and really, it takes an awesome rock to stop tourists in their pursuit of local seafood. This weekend our neighbors called; “Did our rock want a life partner?”. Of course we said “Yes!”.

K’s boom truck showed up on Sunday afternoon in the pouring rain. I was on my third pair of shoes and already soaking wet, so a little more water wasn’t a problem.

Now reach into the truck. . .

And pull out a rock. . .

And confab on the placement. Because it’s not going anywhere after that webbing comes off.

A beautiful rock, nestled in blueberries. Note the worked edge – this might have been part of a foundation for a Bar Harbor “cottage” lost in the Great Fire. Now it resides with us, forever or until boom truck do us part.

New rock

Monday, June 21st, 2010

Our neighbors across the road are moving. They’ve been wonderful neighbors and we’ll miss them, but as it happens their new home is only 10 minutes away. I don’t get out much, but I think I can still manage to visit. And they’ve promised to come back to Trick or Treat.

Like many households, they are distributing some of their belongings before they move. Unlike lots of folks, they have rocks. Big rocks, all over the lower driveway and they are taking some with them to the new place, and they gave one to us. It is a thing of beauty – 6′ x 2′ by 2′, grey with a few lichen spots and partly cut. S. told me the Japanese term for part smooth/part natural surface, and I’ve forgotten it already. Fortunately, you don’t need to know the word to appreciate the effect.

The New Rock sits partially across the straight-line access to the house, in line with the south window bay. The driveway used to come right up to the house – or rather, the front yard was an empty stretch of fill from nearby Lamoine that one could drive over.  Somehow that open avenue has remained even as the space was populated with peach and pear trees, vegetable beds and a hoop house. This is a “before” photo of the front of the house.

This is the big truck that picked up the stone and dropped it (carefully) here. That’s a big truck.

Here’s the after photo with the stone in place. Rock solid, as they say.

Potato cage match

Monday, May 10th, 2010

Every year I try a new way to grow potatoes. Maine is justly famous for the huge tracts of land, mostly in The County, dedicated to the potato harvest. Aroostook County schools are scheduled around the harvest – one of the last holdouts of agriculture over curriculum in the US, and there are “potato bucks” and enough tuber-related traditions up there to fill several books. My Uncle Cyp tells the story of his younger brother held by his ankles down through the door of the potato cellar, gathering dinner from the great piles stored beneath the house. But Northern Maine has soil for big fields, where the seed potatoes are planted and harvested with huge machines and hand-sorted on conveyor belts. Here on the island I need to conserve space and dirt is scarce, especially for what is esentially a root crop doing its best business in the dark and deep. Enter the potato box.

The boxes are constructed of pine 2 x 4 x 8’s (cut in half as a 2 x 4 x 4′) and 2 x 6 x 10’s cut into 2′ lengths – very economical. I’ve fastened the bottom two boards in place. I’ll fill it halfway up with soil (6″ or thereabouts), plant the seed potatoes and then fill to the top board. I’ll probably throw some mulch or landscape fabric over the top. When the plants have grown out of that much soil, the next layer of boards go on, soil is added (not to cover more than 2/3 of the plant at one time), and so forth until the top board goes on and you just let the plants spill out the top. At harvest, one bottom board is removed and the oldest potatoes harvested first.

This method seems to be a good use of soil and appropriate plant habitat – and I like the option of an early, partial harvest. There’s nothing better than new potatoes in late August, yet that’s way too early to dig up a whole plant. I have lumber cut for another four boxes to accommodate plantings of: All Blue, Dark Red Norland, Salem and Nicola.  Proof will be had in a creamy leek and potato gratin along about Labor Day.

Meanwhile, it has been a beautiful Spring. Woad is blooming in the door yard, with red columbine and blue Chinese forget-me-not.

Technical difficulties. . .

Sunday, March 28th, 2010

This blog is broken, sadly. The only problem is with uploading images, but of course I’m all about the images. We’ll be taking down the site later  today and putting something back up and quite possibly no one will be the wiser. On the other hand, this might be a new and unrecognizable entity by Monday and it’s only fair to leave a message.

I memorize a poem each season, using the time I spend commuting to work and the conference calls and meetings to which I go, but am not expected to contribute past putting out the occasional fire.  My choice for Winter 2010 seems strangely appropriate, so I’m leaving it here as a placeholder. “You, if any open this writing. . .”

Epistle to be Left in the Earth

…It is colder now
there are many stars
we are drifting
North by the Great Bear
the leaves are falling
The water is stone in the scooped rock
to southward
Red sun grey air
the crows are
Slow on their crooked wings
the jays have left us

Long since we passed the flares of Orion
Each man believes in his heart he will die
Many have written last thoughts and last letters
None know if our deaths are now or forever
None know if this wandering earth will be found

We lie down and the snow covers our garments
I pray you
you (if any open this writing)
Make in your mouths the words that were our names
I will tell you all we have learned
I will tell you everything

The earth is round
there are springs under the orchards
The loam cuts with a blunt knife
beware of
Elms in thunder
the lights in the sky are stars
We think they do not see
we think also
The trees do not know nor the leaves of the grasses hear us
The birds too are ignorant
do not listen
Do not stand at dark in the open windows
We before you have heard this
they are voices
They are not words at all but the wind rising
Also noone among us has seen God
(… We have thought often
the flaws of sun in the late and driving weather
pointed to one tree but it was not so.)
As for the nights I warn you the nights are dangerous
The wind changes at night and the dreams come

It is very cold
there are strange stars near Arcturus
Voices are crying an unknown name in the sky

Archibald MacLeish

Beautiful nuisance

Monday, February 15th, 2010

This afternoon I walked up the road to the neighbors to buy a dozen eggs. It is a lovely day even now that the sun is low; well above freezing with little wind and enough dirt showing through the ice that the road is passable even without my cleats. I was on my way down Rat’s long drive with the eggs tucked securely under my arm when a very pregnant doe burst out from a spruce thicket and nearly gave us both heart attacks. We both made very girly screams, too – deer actually make a lot of noise when they’re not being stealthy.

She was awkward running, her legs splayed out and not neatly tucked under her body as they might have been in another season. Lean everywhere except her abdomen,  she was close enough that I could see lumps of head and rump under her hide when she stretched out to run. I walked home looking at the tracks that in the snowbanks that line the road, wondering if I could pick her’s out from all the rest by their peculiar spacing. There were certainly a lot of hoof prints, and she’ll probably make two more tiny sets in a few weeks.

I’ve been thinking about how to protect the new garden space created when we cut down the trees between the house and the road last fall. There are no real barriers there – no hedges or fence – but the local deer haven’t yet changed their habitual route that skirts where the forest used to be. It would be a good idea to enclose the space with a fence before they notice the shortcut.

The easiest and cheapest way to enclose a random space against most of our local predators is an electric fence. We don’t have woodchucks – not enough cleared land with soil to allow burrows – and rabbits are picked off by raptors before there are enough of them to cause a problem, so this fence will be geared toward deer. A one-wire fence with an A/C energizer should do the trick. Conventional wisdom used to be that baiting the fence worked best – the deer came forward and touched the green apple scented bait cap (and the charged wire) with its nose and learned not to go there. Recent tests show that it is actually more efficient to use repellent on cloth flags hanging from the wire. The deer tend to check the strange item and then to associate the repellent with the shock – making the repellent more useful on unfenced areas too. There have been stories about bears being attracted to the green apple and peanut butter lures, so there’s another reason to go with repellent rather than bait. This fence won’t do anything to a bear.

I use Premiere 1 Supplies for my fencing needs. I’m very happy with the Quick-Net and solar powered battery Kube that protects the lower garden. For this application, though, I’m going with an A/C Kube because I’m close enough to an outlet in the house to run conduit out to the fence. Add in some Intellirope, a variety of insulators for t-posts, trees and stakes, some rope connectors, a few spring gates  and a bag of 20 fiber rods and I’ll have a good chance of bringing lettuce seedlings to maturity. I am enclosing approximately 300 (linear) feet at a cost of @ $200.00. Factoring in the fairly long life expectancy of the equipment (10 years) over the amount of deer repellent, labor and lost productivity and I think this works out to a good deal.  Here’s the work sheet. More pictures to follow as the equipment arrives and is installed!

Irrevocable

Wednesday, November 11th, 2009

Etymology: From the Latin revocare (present 1st-person singular revoco), meaning “to call back”.  Adjective 1. Unable to be retracted or reversed. Final.

Irrevocable is not generally a word for the garden, especially in a temperate zone. Silver Queen sweet corn grows to 8′ over the course of the summer, and then subsides to stubble in the field. Perrenials are planted, grown, divided and moved, and the mint and chives go everywhere. Yesterday Rat came by and cut down a dozen 40′ spruce and pine at the front of the yard and yes, actually, it makes a tremendous difference in the local landscape and no, they don’t grow back.

This is “before”, looking west toward the road.

bar island before pic garden 003

And this is “after”. There’s a lot more light in the garden now, and possibly a need for curtains up at the house. . .

aftermath

New work

Thursday, August 6th, 2009

bar-harbor-summer-morning-behind-the-shopsThe title of this piece is: “Bar Harbor in the summer, mid-morning low tide behind the shops looking toward the Schoodic Peninsula”. I have a friend who is an editor – a gifted person who can make sense of the combined history of the CIA and FBI, or sugar beets, or C++, or potty training. She has been making suggestions for my titling experiment. SP, can you help with this one?

Bar Harbor won’t look like this for long. There was a bulldozer parked just behind me as I made the drawings and photos that resulted in this piece. Soon the “Ship Shop” will be knocked apart and put back together as something shiny and, if the current designer has his way, rather Tudor-ish. I have no idea why “half-timbered” would be one’s choice of motif for a Downeast Maine fishing community. For one thing, we have fog, rain, sleet and all manner of cold moisture for most of the year; if the stucco was really structural it would be crumbled on its foundations by now. Perhaps the new construction will be fallen in and worn out enough to be fodder for my drawings in another 50 years or so – perhaps I’ll live long enough to find out.

Withy

Friday, June 19th, 2009

withy-2The house sits at the top of a south-facing slope that was originally quite steep and sandy. We planted strawberries and a cherry tree there quite soon after moving in, and the ground was raw and unstable. I tried stacked rock walls and haybales and had some success with the resulting terraces, but nothing seemed to keep the whole hillside from sliding into the path at the bottom of the hill every spring.

Five years ago I purchased (one) basket willow clone from Fedco, Maine’s garden co-op. In a year it had produced enough rods to start a living fence along the bottom of the hill (the silvery, long-leaved growth at the right in the picture). Around the same time my black pussy willow developed borers, and I had to cut it back. I started a second run of fence with those rods (the darker green foliage).  The fence uprights took right off in the sandy soil and by the second year I was busy weaving them back into themselves to make a fairly solid wall. Meanwhile, the original basket willow was producing almost more than I could handle, and I started a second set of fencing halfway up the hill to give us a path to actually pick strawberries instead of crushing them beneath our feet.

It is full on pouring rain today, so I’ve been busy weaving sections of the fence back into itself and taking hedge clippers to the part that no longer needs reinforcement.  We have had plenty of moisture so the new rods are at least two feet long – three or four feet in some places. I’ve gathered a good many rods to start a new fence. . .somewhere.

My favorite example of live willow fencing is from the folks at Brampton Willows. They’ll come to your yard and install hurricane-proof, wonderfully sinous garden structures. I like the “furry” look, so mine are only stripped of their leafy covering  in the winter and not nearly this beautfully organized. There is something similar, though, in how they hug the contours of the landscape and the sense of permanence. This is a fence made of living tree, and it’s not going anywhere.

withy-1

New home for beans. . .

Tuesday, April 14th, 2009

cinder-block-bed-constructionIt’s hard to see in this picture, through the strawberry plants and woodchips, but I’ve started a permaculture in the immediate vicinity of  the house (just to your right in this picture). The area is paved with large rocks, taking advantage of the heat from, and reflected by, the building, and conserving moisture. Fortunately, when I built the original wooden bed on this site I  measured it for an even number of blocks and therefore didn’t have to move any paving stones when wood became CBUs.

The blocks are dry stacked, no mortar. I dig about a foot down and lay a trench of screened gravel to set the first row.  Digging below the frost line here would have me going down six feet, and I can’t do that without a blasting permit.  Some of my earlier beds are two winters old now and are still standing. If a block pushes out I just dig a new space for it and push it back in (use a rubber mallet or your booted foot – not your hand).

Fresh off the project, I have some lessons learned for dry-stacking blocks on a sunny afternoon: 1) wear gloves and a canvas apron, 2) your eye is good, but the level is your friend, 3) keep the surface of the blocks clean as you build – that stray grain of sand is the pea in your mattress, 4) sit and admire your work every once in a while, listen to the wood frogs, and 5) when you’re all done and the tools are put away have an Advil, or Arnica or vodka, or possibly all three.

I’m planning to surface bond this bed as an experiment. It will be planted with Jade and Provider green bush beans, with nasturtium in the cells around the edge. Now on to the A., A. and V.

cinder-block-bed-construction-ii

Best. Anniversary. Ever.

Wednesday, April 8th, 2009

Now there have been memorable anniversaries before this. Year 5 was tire chains for my truck. Year 18 was a huge pile of lama dung and boy howdy, the sunflowers went to 10′ that year. Last year was the “small arms” anniversary – The Man was having squirrel problems.

23, however, is the cinder block anniversary. I came home to a pallet of 180 CBUs* neatly wrapped and topped with a bow, just waiting to be stacked in raised garden beds and a plinth for my outdoor wood oven project. I swear, if I didn’t have so much to do tonight I’d be out there with my head lamp and leather gloves . . . it had better be a nice weekend, that’s all I’m saying.

best anniversary evah

*Concrete Building Units. 180 of them!