Blow the Man Down

Last weekend a crew went by on the far side of the road pollarding trees that threatened the power lines. I thought I'd better get busy, and spent the Thanksgiving weekend dismembering the hophornbeam. Luckily, Boris was on hand.

The bole had forked into four main stems with minor branches adding to the mess. I wanted a clean, predicable felling path for each, so we started by clearing away anything that threatened to obstruct the line of descent.

We worked from the scaffolding, always dropping the limbs away from the platform--and the power line.

By the end of Thanksgiving, only one stem remained--tall, but relatively small in diameter. This weekend Jo and I tackled it. I brought the scaffolding around to make a felling notch on the driveway side and then dropped it with a cut on the opposite side. We put a rope on it to make sure it didn't back onto the power line, but it actually fell quite close to the intended direction. It diverged a little to the right (following the downslope of the driveway), clipping the maple to the right of it. This knocked off a co-dominant stem, saving me the trouble of climbing up and cutting it!

 It has a strange totemic appearance now. I thought I'd leave it up for a while, at least until Hallowe'en. From some angles it looks like a giant hand scrabbling at the sky with its stumps of fingers.

Now I'm engaged in chopping it up for firewood and hauling it away to the woodpile (I'm taking a break right now--that is HEAVY wood!).

I've been chipping down the smaller branches; the chipper complains a little but chops it up quite well. I'll save some pieces for Colin--he wanted to try using it for engraving blocks. That split up the main trunk looks quite black inside. I wonder if it was hit by lightning after all?

Transitional Project #7322

I found a nice transitional plane at an antique warehouse in St. Jacob's, Ontario. It was complete, the beech body had no checking, and the only thing that seemed to be broken was the rear grip. It looks like a Stanley #28, but it is probably a knock-off; I didn't see the brand name in the end stamping or on the cast pieces.

There was a sizeable chip out of the top of the handle, and it was cracked right across near the base.

At another antique warehouse, I found a pile of handplane handles (for $3 each--wish I'd bought a bunch!). I thought I might use one on the transitional.

The metal shaft for the old handle was a #12 NC 24, so I dug out a die and threaded a slightly longer metal rod to match the new handle.  The new handle had a more upright stance than the original, so I had to make a sharp kink in the shaft near the base. It was also bigger--it actually fitted my hand, which the original did not.

Here's a small bonus: the lateral adjustment lever does not scrape my fingers, as it did in the original set up. I thought the less acute angle might hamper the action, but it seems fine.









The new handle is also very attractive--rosewood, possibly. I'm not a fan of antiques for show alone, but I like the ones I can use. Some folks scoff at transitional planes, but I find them appealing. Although they don't have the snob appeal of the all-wood models, they are quick to set up, durable--and cheap! Mine was CAN$35, which isn't bad for a decent model. I suppose I've ruined its authenticity now, but transitionals don't really have that kind of cachet to begin with. Maybe I'll drill it through and add a guide!

Death of the Ironwood

The hophornbeam has been failing for the last couple of years. At one point, it was the only large tree on the property, apart from the few remaining boundary spruce. Now its fall will scarcely change the appearance of the yard, though it is sad to see such a fine tree dying by inches.





For the last two summers, few branches have sported leaves. Most were ominously dry sticks carrying some lichen and no new growth.

 Only the very top branches lived on, and this year there is scarcely any canopy left. Last fall, I trimmed it back to avoid the power lines and Peter's trailer, which he parked in the driveway.

Also, there is a curious zig-zag crack running from the bole right up the main stem. In a strong wind, it champs slightly, like one of the orifices of Tolkien's Old Man Willow. The bark is sloughing off like old snakeskin, and more and more branches bow down toward the ground.

I feel there is a House of Usher moment approaching, and I want to bring it down before then. I will be stealing scaffolding from the front gable project so that I can take it down piecemeal, starting with  the branches I trimmed last year. I wonder how hard it will be to cut? It is, after all, IRONWOOD.

Whiter Than White

Work on the gable has progressed. In fact, my pictures are sadly over-exposed, so bright is the repaired and painted woodwork.

Even the nasty plywood plug where the broken window used to be looks acceptable. Also, Billy made me two new knobs for the ornamental inverted railing.

I'm working my way back down to the ground, taking down scaffolding frames as I descend, because I will need them for another long-deferred project--to be discussed in the next post.

This Old House: July

The south face--the front--was the first to be renovated, though you wouldn't know it to look at it now. The gable face is peeling, one long stretch of crown moulding is too far gone to salvage, and all the paint on the eaves has vanished. Time flies; nothing is constant but decay. I think we will have to replace the shingles below the upper bay window--I'm pretty sure they are poorly sealed; there's no sign of flashing at the panel edges and I think the underlay of tar paper has gone to dust. I started by installing a new double-hung window on the ground floor, and then put in new casements in the second floor bay using triangular platforms supported partly by the scaffolding and partly by posts descending to the ground. They seemed fairly stable. One window proved a disappointment: it does not quite close by the crank, which is either installed incorrectly or adjusted badly. I am growing disenchanted with Global and Target.

We have had a few big storms since I set up the scaffolding, but happily it didn't go anywhere--it's pegged directly to the building at three points. Eventually I went one frame higher, so I could fasten the roof directly to the new crown moulding I installed on the right hand side. Birds had pecked themselves little hollows in the wood so they could squeeze into the cosy nests they had build in the eaves. That would explain the sudden popularity of the front gable with all those pigeons. I can see I will finally have to replace the moulding on the right hand side of the broken cornice--it's been a mass of old finishing nails and new air nails for years. I think I can revitalize the top plate above the cornice board with some primer and paint. The real trick is going to be getting in to paint the little false roof above the upper bay. I will probably have to build secondary platforms on the triangular platforms to get enough height to reach in. What was Howard thinking (WWHT?)?

Even at this stage, it begins to look much better. Getting paint on is such a relief (the improved version will be featured in the next post). I must say, though, you do get a nice view from the scaffolding, peeling paint aside. At such moments the slightly mad gallery idea really fires my imagination. With so much left to do at the foundation level, should I really be reaching for the sky?

Summer Woods

We have had a long cool period with lots of rain which is gradually giving way to much hotter weather. Here the crown closure is evident--I'll start thinning as soon as I've dealt with the dogwood.

The Crick has been flowing steadily, in spite of drying up briefly in June. Panama never quite faded away. Even so, if one digs down a few inches, the woods are quite dry. A burn ban is a very reasonable measure. Pat's brush fire would certainly have got away from him if he hadn't had his 6-ton loader handy: home fire suppression.

Evening Sky

Atmospheric shots are difficult, especially in the dusk. By the time you get the settings right, the sky above has changed again. I saw some beautiful sunset effects, but by the time I had retrieved my camera and returned outside, the colours had faded, and then it all quickly dissipated.

Forget framing and composition--it all vanished in seconds, and I never caught its full glory. Sic transit gloria caeli.