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.

Rotor

I usually enjoy brake jobs. I've been doing them for decades, there is little that is unexpected, and I have the right tools. Today--a very hot day, I might add--was different. It started well, but when I tried to remove the front driver's side rotor, it wouldn't budge. The shop manual says, "Two or three stout blows with a rubber hammer may be necessary." Ha! I started with the five-pound persuader, before graduating to the fifteen-pound sledge. It didn't help. Mechanics often call this "chemical welding," but it's just rust--and it is tenacious. I tried penetrating oil, light blows, heavy blows, levers--all in vain. It was 30 degrees out, and I was nearly beaten. Finally I called in the big gun: a cutting wheel.

When I had cut about one-third of the way around, I forced in a heavy pry bar. A large chunk of the rotor face came away, but it remained bonded to the hub. I cut more, and brought the cold chisel to bear.




It put up a magnificent resistance.

As you can see, I cut more than half the face from the rotor before it began to loosen up. It still took many strong blows to knock it off the wheel hub


Fortunately, although I did extensive cutting, I did not damage the hub at all. Also, it turned out to be much easier to cut than I had imagined.




It was a relief to get the new rotor and pads on--after all that violence, I felt the car was somehow tainted. But now all is well. Of course, I still have to do the passenger side. . . .

d

Summer at Last

It is finally getting hot; in fact, the Crick has dried up and Panama is very low. I decided to see how the growing season was coming along.

The new growth in the woodlot is rather disappointing; as you can see, the conifers barely put on any length (incidentally, I love the rubbery feel of new needles--so unlike what they eventually become; it's like bumblebees that only tickle).

This is a balsam fir. There is about an inch of new growth--and this one is in a relatively well-lit spot near the path.  

On the other hand, the red pines in the Grove are candling very nicely: several inches on all the trees. 

Near the house, this black spruce has about six inches of new growth--and it has already hardened off! You can barely see the colour difference; it is about two weeks ahead of the trees deeper in the lot. 

                                                                          And just to show that it isn't all dismal, the flower baskets around the house are doing very well.  We have been basking in almost ideal weather: hot days (c. 30° C) and cool nights (around 12 C).