Above is the new word Galen learned today. It seems to more or less sum up our day. With building permit in hand (and I thank you for all of your well wishes on that point!), we are charging full. speed. ahead. (and otherwise reeling out of control…)
The excavator officially broke ground at 8:30 this morning.
Anything having to do with someone else dramatically and irreversibly altering our land is an extremely nerve wracking experience for me. Even more so since the incident last week.
Steve has been working on taking down trees for a couple of weeks now. As it turns out, if you are going to live in the woods, you are going to have to take down some trees, sad, but true.
He cleared the entire area save for two particularly large trees that were situated quite close to our current house. These trees were beautiful, majestic trees, one cherry, one oak. Were there even a chance of being able to build without removing them, there is no question in my mind that we would have opted to leave them be. Unfortunately, they happened to be nearly dead center on our only potential building site. The plan was to have them milled for some fancy-shemancy trim work, giving me that “not in vain” rationalization, that only reassured me enough to get by. The cherry went down easily enough (it’s the stump and section featured in my last post). The oak on the other hand, ended up getting hung-up in a neighboring clump of trees. There it hung, precariously balanced in a grouping of white birches that border our creek. The man we hired to take these trees down did eventually manage to free it, but only after slowly slicing it into 2 foot chunks (too small for milling) and taking down all of the trees around it, which we had no intentions of cutting. There was simply no other option. The worst shock of all came afterwards when I was inspecting the remains. I discovered that a tree that I had loved dearly had been taken as well. It was a silver birch who’s roots had wrapped themselves around a moss covered rock, forming a near perfect circle. This rock happens to be on the edge of the creek where it bubbles underground and there is an opening under the rock where in the spring time you can clearly see, feel and hear the water gurgling past. It always put me in mind of the Celtic Tree of Life, this perfectly magical balance of tree, around rock, over water. Tears came to my eyes when I found it there, part of the water system that we had sworn never to disturb. Destruction is the inevitable result of construction. The one life eats itself and so on. It’s not a concept I’m particularly comfortable with.
Suffice it to say, my concern was great today when leaving the fate of the land that we love, in the hands of a person I’d never met before, and the large piece of machinery that I hoped he could control! I wanted to be home in case there were any decisions that needed to be made along the way (we really didn’t have anywhere to go anyway). Being outside was completely out-of-the-question for the children and I, due to the exhaust fumes. Our entire day was spent closed up inside with this tank surrounding us, whirling and clawing and just barely missing a window at ever turn. He worked straight through to nearly 5:30. By the end of the day my nerves were totally and completely frayed.
In the morning I was mostly concerned with the outcome. I sat knitting flower petals, with shaking hands, while trying not to look out the window (not easy when your entire first floor is one small room with windows on every wall), while Iain rattled off the play by play. “Did you see that big rock he just moved !?!?”, “He’s coming around the side now”, “He’s diggin really close to your gardens! No, it’s ok. He’s being careful mom, really he is…”, “Opps, I think he hit the house…” (this after an oh, so, reassuring clang that reverberated through the walls and everyone’s spines!) But as Iain told me “It’s gonna happen if you ask an X-cavator to X-cavate.”
By early afternoon things had taken a truly ugly turn. There is only so much noise, vibration and disturbances that a family full of sensory defensive people can tolerate.
Tempers were running high, headaches and screaming abounded and the exhausted baby without a peaceful space to sleep was just the icing on the cake. Not to mention still not being able to leave the house, which had to be disconnected from phone and electric to allow the excavator to come through.
Outside things were not going much better. By this point it had started to rain and everyone on the other side of the window was soaked through and shivering. Steve and B the Builder were working to set the Sona tubes in the trenches dug by the excavator.
Sona tubes are the molds for the concrete piers. The cardboard molds. Nothing like a downpour when you are working with such heavy-duty water-resistant building supplies as cardboard….
I don’t think I truly realized how extensive the excavation was going to be. There is something at bit disconcerting about your geography changing around you at such rapid speed.
At this point half of the piers have been positioned and back-filled (and covered with trash bags for protection!). Steve has to go back to work, but B the Builder and the excavator will be here again at 8:30 tomorrow morning. Thankfully, it should only take the morning to finish up. After that we have the cement truck to look forward to, this weekend, followed by nothing by B the Builder, Steve and I, at least until we get to the roof. Hopefully things will be easier on the wee-ones (and their parents!!) from here on out. In the meantime it’s exciting to think that things are really starting to happen!