Crash & Burn

With a click rather than a whimper my video hard drive expires. This is just as the first load of timber arrives. There may be a lesson in there somewhere. Focus on the work in hand? Get real? Or maybe just a new computer?

The wood is basking in the sun waiting to render service in the name of mortgage-free shelter. It’s burning hot. Global warming is knocking at my door and staring in my windows. Liz, Thomas, Willie, Natalia and myself scurry about making Peter Posts, measuring and calculating in the unfolding drama.

First, at solar noon we reconfigure the position of the art studio to line it up with the true south. This is significant and somehow energizing. Then we retire to the deck to contemplate the meaning of life over tea. Recapturing time is hard work. You think you have it in you grasp and whoosh, it’s gone again.

I apply myself to the drawing board against a backdrop of hammering and laughter. I am down to the fine detail now, checking and rechecking, scribbling measurements on paper to pass on the the work crew. They are making a jig out of which the Peter Posts will emerge. These will form the wall of the studio and hold up the roof. At this stage I’m always nervous. Are they too strong? Too heavy? Too weak? Only time will tell.

The evening brings no relief only waves of heat rolling in like breakers. The odd cloud hangs about suspiciously. The forecast is for more of the same. The windcharger hangs limp atop its mast. Tomorrow is another day.