Nothing Lasts... Forever?

"Clayton.  Stop scooching around on that rug right there.  

Why do you think you're always slipping, falling, and getting hurt?  

That's a bad place too - if you land on the edge of those stairs 

you could knock out your two front permanent teeth.

What do you think that would mean?"

* * *

"It means I'd have two permanent holes in my mouth."

(Clayton, age 8)

* * *

For the record

THIS... 

...is science.


And these...

...are scientists.

And here...

...is a perfectly good "school" lesson.

When my son student stuck his head in the house and belted that he had something to show me,
and I came to the door and poked my head out;
when he revealed the contents of his bucket,
and my face registered surprise;
When I asked him if he'd touched it,
and he said he had (well how did you think he caught it?);
When I couldn't decide how best to act.....

That's when I said "WHERE IS YOUR MOTHER?!!!"

For what child doesn't have it drilled into their young little head by a conscientious matriarch , that
"bats carry disease"
and
"bats have sharp teeth"
and
"bats can transfer disease to you by means of their sharp teeth"  etc. etc. etc....


Oops.  I guess we haven't covered that one yet.  So after I gave him the run-down
(because it would seem I am his mother), and after I sent him to wash his hands 28 times
with soap up to his elbows,
we inspected this marvelous creature!
And invited everyone else to come take a look.
I took the opportunity to  cover the "bats have teeth" curriculum one or two more times.
(silly, paranoid mom teacher)
Good work children scholars!

Fort Marvel (not really)

The log cabin project is nearing the end of this phase.  Our Colorado crew returns to their home
day after tomorrow, and the walls  are not completed.  To some ears this may be music.
In fact, this is a sweet tune to more than a few pair of ears because there are a lot of sore
parts creaking and hobbling around here.  Sore shoulders, sore backs, sore hands,
sore knuckles, sore buns...
I hear that logs are not conducive to sitting on while pounding rebar with a 10 pound sledge hammer.
So yeah. Sore buns.

Despite the walls being little more than half built, I am totally impressed with all the hard work
which accomplished this much!  The men were just perfecting their method and finding a groove,
when height added a new challenge.

Then things slowed down a bit.  Some of this difficulty will be solved with scaffold planking.
Speaking of scaffold planks (since you asked), this new toy mill will be used to fashion them.

These pictures are for you Stephen:

Not to worry - the heights will soon be scaled.  Cessation is merely temporary until we figure out this
way-awesome mill and an education is procured through experience coupled with more soreness
most probably.

You have to admit this is pretty impressive though, eh?  I think so.  My Honey built this Stockade looking fortress!
What a MAN!

Hunting for Freedom

Somewhere between Breakfast and the baby's first diaper change, I lost it.
I couldn't find the freedom I know is mine, and I was completely taken off guard
when it disappeared.  Where to?  I don't know.
All I know is I was sitting on the back porch watching my small ones play.
There was an enamel basin filled two inches with cool water.  Cups of various color and size
were being dipped in, poured out, and my sad wilted tomatoes were soaking up a much longed-for drink.
The morning sun was shining straight down - no shadows peeking out anywhere.  No shade.
I was content with my lot, dreaming of little tweaks here and there which would improve my
humble program.  My "what I am trying to accomplish with my Bugletts" program.
You know.  Life.

In the freshness of morning; only happy sounds could be heard and I commenced thinking about
next years school.  Actually, school slash learning is a slowly plodding mule we've been riding all summer.
 We're not moving very fast, but depend on us getting there - to our destination - eventually.
 Some days I distribute more busy work, others less, and most all the days holding an element of "real life"
 which offers an education I couldn't produce any other way.
The rocket, sail ship, or  log cabin project for example.
Spring and summer are the most fruitful time for our Nature Journals, and even though our garden is
completely overgrown with volunteers and weeds, many of the wild flowers are still going strong in August.
Last years vegetable plot is this year, a bed of daisies - literally.  Frogs, moths, beetles, berries, flowers,
frogs, dead mice and voles (thanks to Fred the cat), grasshoppers, various rocks, and even more frogs
than I can count have passed before my appreciating eyes this Summer.
Susanna is finger crocheting, and braiding my hair.
Olivia is learning to read, and fixing breakfast for two younger siblings.
Clayton was inspired to start a worm farm to supply his fishing habit.
Zachary has entered the ranks of voracious readers; Tom Swift mysteries being right at the top.
And I?  I am all of a sudden feeling petrified about "Next Year's School..." (spoken here in hushed tones).

As I said, I was caught off guard between Breakfast and the baby's first diaper change of the day.
Somewhere in the interim, when I was unprepared for the blow, I took in 20 minutes of my friend's school plan
(which probably took her hours and day,s if not weeks to perfect) and my school plan
lost it's shine.
My dreams of pleasant improvements upon what already works for my tribe,
became a mad grasp at all the things I should do, must do, need to do...
you know, those things that "other" people are doing.  And doing successfully, I might add.
No longer was it fun.  No how.  It turned to business and nothing but.
And in a 20-minute instant, I lost my freedom.
Freedom to be me. To do what works for me. To do what works for our family.  To dream.

I don't understand it, but it seems to be a law of nature, that when considering the methods
that are effective for someone else, I feel obligated to use that exact same program.
Instead of gaining inspiration, I seem to accumulate guilt like it's going out of style.
Not exactly motivating.
In fact, it is actually very much a burden, and an unnecessary one at that!

So I looked and looked for that misplaced freedom.  It wasn't in the Biology book.  It wasn't in the
new math manipulative's.  It wasn't in the proposed music lessons.  It wasn't in that friend's fancy Excel charts.

After I changed the baby's diaper I had quite a time recovering from my self-imposed illness.
It wasn't until afternoon that I found a piece of what I was hunting for.  In my cold mocha, chocolaty
and caffeinated I found some pep.  The possibilities started looking plausible.
In a short chat with another girlfriend, my wise friend asked me "...so what's most important?..." 
THAT'S where I reclaimed my freedom.  I'd forgotten not only to ask myself that question, but I'd also lost sight of what is important.

I believe that what's most important will be different for each person/family/teacher/momma
and that I have to determine it based on larger farther-reaching goals I want to accomplish.
But PHEW!  What a relief to remember that I have a unique family, in a unique situation,
living under unique circumstances, trying to meet our own unique goals!  What is important?
I need to sit and really evaluate the question, but I think I know.  At least I think I can answer that for
myself in this season; and with that I can decide what mode of transportation moves our family to it's
unique destination.
I'll try to wrap my mind around this query over a few more mocha's,  but who knows?
Maybe that slowly plodding mule is just the thing:-)

What goes UP, must come down.

Or... "What is already down, has no obligation to go the direction you desire."

I admit, I was a skeptic.
I don't understand how a TP tube, tape, and hot glue can be a space-traveling vehicle.
Oh me of little faith!

Zachary built this rocket entirely on his own.  Own idea.  Own design.  Own follow-through;
and when rocket fuel was installed, a launch pad constructed, and a daring dad and uncle summoned....
I waited from far, far away, and waited with camera in hand through every false start
until Aloria's cries from inside the house could no longer be ignored.
When I cam back out there was smoke billowing from a ditch and quite a bit of hootin' and hollarin'
from the sidelines.  I still can't believe I missed it!

(That's right kiddies, duck behind that log!)

I am told that the rocket actually went up.  A little ways anyhow
before it began to spiral out of control. (Thank YOU Dad! For putting the kids behind a barricade)
finally landing mere yards from where Zachary stood watching. 

According to his assessment, the problem lay mainly with a bent fin.

Yep.  I'd say that's bent.

Fortunately (so he tells me), the rocket is in near-perfect condition; and my head has been
spinning all day as I listen to how the next launch will be perfected:
"...and then I'll cut the red wire and divide it into three parts..."
"...all I need is a AA battery..."
"....dividing the wires and reconnecting them to the white wire..."
"...more rocket fuel..."
And so on until my eyes glaze over.
Only now,

I actually believe him!

What's the Story?

These Log Cabin posts, what are they all about anyway?

I've been posting pictures of logs, dirt, tools, and working men without any explanation.
Mostly because I'm picture journaling our project for us; and secondly, those I thought
interested in watching our progress already know about it through other means.

I've noticed a sad lack of comments lately, and while I know I'm out of my
usual genre of writing, I figure my recent fare is more interesting to the masculine curiosity.
(Boys, feel free to comment.  AJ will read all your words, wise cracks, and two cents)

Girls - I forgive you for having nothing to say on the subject of logs, block and tackle,
impact hammers, and rebar. 
For the enquiring soul, I now give a simple (and brief) account of what the Marvel Hill
Mad Scientists are up to most recently.

*******************************************************

Through some of the friendships we built in our move to Colorado four years ago
(in the days before Idaho and Marvel Hill) we learned about a Log Building class
which teaches a But and Pass method of construction purported to be
one of the cheapest and easiest ways to build a dwelling.

Last spring my Great Guy along with a couple other fine fellows decided
to drive to Washington to see for themselves, so signed up for the 2 day class

offered by the Log Home Builder's Association

I'm sure it's unnecessary to say this, but here it is:  Once home again, they were eager
to try all they had learned, and thence began the planning of this particular project.

This cabin is a collaborated effort by AJ and several friends of his who attended the class.
It is 20'x20' with a second story loft, sitting on a plot of land at the Southeast section of our property.
It's intended use will be for a vacation retreat by the  family of one of our builders
(who happen also, to be friends of ours) ;-)

I hope that gives a framework for our recent posts.
I imagine that's more than most of you wanted to know, but any other information
will be confined to specific answers to your questions - and then I may request AJ
do the honors (since he actually understands what's what!)

So that's that.
Thank you for humoring my fifty-zillion pictures of logs, dirt, tools, and men working
while this project continues!

Hoisting a log into place.

When muscles were required:

A bit of play:

Watching and waiting.

Growing Walls

By the end of today you could really see the cabin taking shape through  the forest trees.

Up until this evening, Clay hasn't been down at the build site as much as his brother.
You see, we've had two really cute girl guests and being social won out over working with the guys.
Those pretty young things left today and will be away for the weekend, so Clay is free
to concentrate on other skills.  Skills such as measuring.

And cutting rebar.

He sure is lookin' like a pro there!
And these other men - they are working out the kinks in drilling and driving the
rebar from higher up.

They are somewhat of a Circus act.  I can hardly wait to watch them on the 12th course.
Or the 18th.  Makes me dizzy to even think of it!

This is the "group shot".  See Wyatt in the far back still peeling away?

While taking a lunch break, AJ surveyed the work and declared it inspiring.
Wyatt, however, says it's "perspiring".

I think he's entitled to his opinion on the subject.

Sweaty, dirty, heavy, hard work and yet... the smile says it all. 
These guys are having the time of their lives!