No Vember

No sun—no moon!
  No morn—no noon—
No dawn—
  No sky—no earthly view—
  No distance looking blue—
No road—no street—no “t’other side the way”—
  No end to any Row—
  No indications where the Crescents go—
  No top to any steeple—
No recognitions of familiar people—
  No courtesies for showing ‘em—
     
No knowing ‘em!
No traveling at all—no locomotion,
No inkling of the way—no notion—
“No go”—by land or ocean—
  No mail—no post—
  No news from any foreign coast—
No park—no ring—no afternoon gentility—
  No company—no nobility—
No warmth, no cheerfulness, no healthful ease,
  No comfortable feel in any member—
No shade, no shine, no butterflies, no bees,
No fruits, no flowers, no leaves, no birds,
  November!
                                         --Thomas Hood, 1844

Hallowe'en

Some of the most interesting pictures are accidents. After a long morning's work pushing over deadwood and hacking down deadfall, Joanne carved the pumpkins. I stuck in candles and took some pictures. This evil spirit appeared out of nowhere.

It makes this more conventionally wicked picture seem tame by comparison. No rolled eye, glowing nose, or tongue of fire. Just a Jack o'lantern.

Happy Hallowe'en!

Autumn Chores

Autumn seems to be a time of brake jobs. I finally changed out that seized cable in the Honda, completing a four-wheel brake job in the process. Here are the lovely new drums--it almost seems a shame to keep the other components (too shabby). Finally, we have two sets of shoes responding to the emergency brake.

 I also serviced our pellet stove--22 years old and still going strong, so far as I can recollect. The fans are oiled, cleaned, and, as a consequence, quite quiet.

Fall Clean-up

Here it is, mid-October, and the scaffolding is all tucked away in the tractor shed. For once, I finished shingling and painting before the snow flew!

Although I liked the look of the natural shingles against the white paint, in the end I painted everything. It is hard to maintain the look of cedar; it tends to blacken. I still have some touching up to do on the corner boards, but that can wait for next year. We still get the occasional warm day, but it is really too cold for further painting. Next year, we plan to replace five windows, including the two side windows on the lower bay, and the one in the front corner, second floor--this will be the main focus of the summer work. This time, we're going to rip off the vinyl and apply cedar clapboard! 

\

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.