BARNS 2

THE 1860 BARN

Last year in spring, I began to wrap the 6x6 white oak corner posts with 2x fir. The post bases were mostly rotted, as were the centers. But white oak is extremely hard and resilient, and if it has any structure at all, I used it as a form and transferred the load to the fir 2xs. This post had a solid base but some of the center structure had rotted. It sits on a large flat schist stone, though dirt is piled around it in the picture. When I'm done, the grade will be just below the stone, keeping the old and new corner base dry.

The fluff on the ground was a mouse nest I destroyed upon digging out the center rot. Had mice, too, and they jumped out en masse. Scared me to death. EEK!

Back to work this winter, the posts are wrapped, the center plate replaced (you can see the old one a bit further on), and the corner "hurricane" braces installed. The scaffolds are set up prematurely; I thought I'd do the framing but only did the upper rafter plate, again, wrapping the 6x6. I soon realized I needed to install the second floor framing first, but then realized I needed to fix the joining girts below the front plate first. GRrrrrrr. One cannot get from two to five without going through three and four. Or on the planet Glumfrecht, smelf and grall.

The 1860 barn as seen from the 1730 barn, showing the movable doors between the two barns. I would have to remove the right door and structure beyond to do the next repair; that of replacing the temporary scarf joint in the upper right hand corner. It was installed four years ago when I also removed the roof and put in the temporary floor. I knew it would take some time to get to it.

These doors were connected to ropes and hoisted along wood tracks to the girt above.

Look closely and you can see the protruding blocks that hold the pulleys.

And just why would the doors be needed? Well, if I hadn't removed the stanchions form this side of the doors, you'd see why. So I'll explain it with the surviving stanchions to the right.

Farm folk already know.

I'll be removing these as well, back as far as the center 6x6 oak beam above, anyway. Note the floorboards; very thick, and set on top of other floorboards running the other way. Get it yet?

You will.

The double floor was necessary for holding up some very, very heavy animals. A bunch at once, in fact.

The chaise lounge holds my 600 year old heart pine milled into 2x6s for the second floor joists. Behind that is the last of the household trash that filled all these buildings to head height when I moved in.

Between the doors and the stanchions, feed troughs. NOW do you get it? It took me some time; I am not a farmer.

The stanchions are made with movable 2x4s that can lock cows into place as they feed. There are wire locks on top of the stanchions to keep them in place. I thought they moved to keep cows OUT of the feed troughs. Silly me. Half my life living in the country, but I never milked a cow. It took a more countrified gent to 'splain it to me.

I already knew that hay was stored in the 1730 barn; there was a lot still in there and below the thick wood floor I found stacked stones two to three feet deep. Many critters lived down there when I first moved in. Some probably do. This was done to increase drainage and make sure the hay didn't rot. I also figured the hay was forked from one side to the other when the farmers wanted to feed the cows, thus the vertical doors.

It did not occur to me that once the cows were led into the 1860 barn, their heads were locked into the stanchions when they fed. This made it easier (and much safer) to milk the bovoids.

This is a Milking Barn.

Note how worn the 2x4s are. Many years of cow necks did that.

I removed the old floor from the loft and put a temporary platform on the second floor, left side. Two thick heart pine timbers with 3/4" thick plywood can be seen on edge there. From this, I could access the rotted girt end that connects the front and back corners. Or used to.

In the center of the picture, the girt can be seen after I removed the temporary scarf joint. It is attached to the front corner post by a 2x on an angle so I can put in a new scarf joint. A piece of horizontal 2x6 can be seen jutting out from the top of the corner post; I put this in four years ago when I built up that corner's top. I knew I'd want to attach the two and that it would be done years apart. I be vewy vewy smaht.

And 'umble, too. 

It can also be seen that the front corner post is WAY out of plumb. This would soon be remedied. The work platform can be seen better here. I would need to remove the horizontal 2x6 it sits on to pull the corner into place and I couldn't finish the scarf joint until that was done, but I needed a platform from which to do it. AAAAUUUUGHHH!!!!!

Smelf and grall, smelf and grall, I kept telling myself.

The girt after I had trimmed away the wood to leave 3" and 1 1/2" thicknesses to be added. This way I could sandwich the scarf together with standard size wood and screws, which is what a scarf joint is. Kinda. A scarf uses the original timber's good wood in stages to add strength by giving the new wood a lot of square inches to which it can be attached.

A good look at the out-of-plumb corner post.

As well as the support structure. For ME, I mean.

Looks like a Rube Goldberg cartoon. Or the game of Mousetrap.

Before I could cut the proper lengths for the scarf, I needed to move the post back about four inches. The formerly angled support was moved to the horizontal and a block was added to the post. I pre-drilled screws so that once plumb was achieved, I only had to screw the post to the brace.

Post ready to be moved.

Platform is removed and hanging over the scaffold walkboard. I only had to remove the 2x6 in the center right of the picture. The rafters are not attached, and though nothing more than art would be holding the post up, the front plates would do the job.

I hoped.

Actually, I knew they would. I was only worried whether I would be able to move the post into place without a lever or come-along.

I would work from the staging to the center left; the ladder on the girt was left alone. That girt was held fast by bracing but was also attached to the 6x6 mid-plate. It warn't goin' nowheres.

The corner moved, but took some effort. Which is just as it should be. The brace was screwed in. The post was plumb, and I could get on with the scarf joint and make this baby straight. More or less.

In this pic the first piece of the scarf is installed. It is made of heart pine (500 years old), is attached to the solid parts of the oak girt using 4 1/2" Timberlok screws and polyurethane caulk as an adhesive. No water getting into this baby!

A better view. If I was perfect (and not racing the next rain/ice/snow), I would have primed the wood first.

I hate to disappoint you.

I am less than perfect.

Just this side of, in fact.

Second element of the scarf. See how it works? Each element adds to the strength by attaching at different points and spreading the load along multiple planes. My physics teacher, now scowling at kids in heaven, would be (is) proud. Hey Mister Lynn!

"Shut up and answer the question, King!"

"But Mister Lynn, how can I do both?"

I was the only one in my class to pass that year. No kidding.

Got a B minus, in fact.

You may ask yourself, what about that hole in the end of the girt?

You may ask yourself, aren't you less than an inch and a half from that 2x6 you left to tie into the corner?

You may ask yourself, why am I still reading this thing?

This is not my barn!

This is not my ridiculous life!

Same as it ever was.

If you look closely, you'll see that the Timberloks are set to catch the edges of the girt that are still intact. The center is all gone, as it faced the sky, and that's where the rain comes from. It was like this when I first took off the roof. Apparently that roof was a long time gone at one time. Hunh?

And yes, it's not perfectly straight. But, as I said, I am just this side of.

I did dig out all the punky, wet, rotted wood, and yes, it included live grubs and larvae of wood-boring beetles. They were not happy to encounter the freezing temperatures, poor things. I hope they fed many a robin, which I saw pulling the little white bastards out of the wet punkness later that day.

This entire process, from moving the corner to cutting the girt, to attaching the girt and finally bracing it all off, took almost three weeks. I had to cover the damaged section of the girt with 30 lb. felt every night to protect it from frost, dew, and rain. It needed to dry out, and once it did so and the grubs were gone, I sprayed Boracare to kill anything I didn't remove. I'm funny that way.

Almost done.

I planed this side of the scarf, and moved to the other side to do the same, but the belt in my power plane broke. Snow was on the way, so I did what I hadda do.

I'll also do more once I finish the thing, wrapping it on all sides.

I primed both sides with oil-based primer, now outlawed because it works so well.

But I wasn't done. Oh, no precious. First I had to answer the David Byrne dilemma.

I installed a piece of 5/4" pressure treated wood in that less-than-1 1/2" space between the special timber from the corner and the new scarf joint. That completed the first stage of attachment.

But with all those joints, water would work its way in and cause the dreaded shrink-swell syndrome. And then where would be?

Drinking Coors Lite in a sports bar, betting on professional bowling and cheering on Donald "The Don" Trumpazoid and Mike "The Spanish Inquisition" Pencehead, that's where.

And we don't want to go THERE.

Oh, hell.

We already ARE.

A bit dark to see it, but it was getting late...

I caulked all the joints, then smoothed them with water. This would preserve the work until I sealed it all.

\

This is the temporary flooring I put on the second floor of the barn four years ago. Held up for three years, anyway. Ready for the burn pile. If it ever dries out. This is taking place in early February, just as I was laid off. Otherwise I'd be doing this throughout the summer. Ugh! Late winter and late fall, my favorite seasons to work outdoors. No bugs, no heat, and no bugs. And no heat.

We hadn't had a four-day period since August without rain. I'm not kidding. And in September and October, it was always at least three quarters of an inch each time. Often more. I think I mentioned the mold in an earlier post.

My GAS CANS had mold.

But it was early February, and this was a weird winter. We'd had no snow more than three or four inches, followed by (of course) two days of cold rain. So no snow stayed around. But it froze every time, making the ground a six inch layer of ice. But at least I didn't have to shovel.

Until March, of course. Almost fifteen inches on the seventh. Marley loves it, being Japanese.

1.Shovel to the feeder.

2. Watch puppies wrestle.

2.5 Shovel back from the feeder.

3. Shovel to the grill. I use the thing a LOT. Plus it gives Cheerio the shit-zoo someplace to pee. Her legs aren't quite 3 inches long.

I also shoveled to the shop.

Glad I stocked the bins. So are the Dwawgs. Note Cheerio's absence. She is getting older and is now scared of the fire.

 

She likes her bed by my chair in the libbing ruum.

"Hey! When you coming in here??"

Long winter night.

I get to work on studying the Wallingford Copper Mine, my archaeological obsession that I won't be able to visit for a month.

Note the Cape Cod. Must stay hydrated.

*Hic*

Damn! More snow! Cheerio pees anyway.

The snow doesn't melt for almost two weeks. I get back to work on The Pirates of the Dark Horse, my latest novel. Long winter nights are good for writing. Blocking the plot with hand written notes is how I do it, then open the 'puter and start typing.

Hey! Where's my drink?

The warm-up comes suddenly to the air, but latent to the ground, still frozen solid. This is what we would normally call 'mud season,' but it's just a ton of water that pools everywhere, since it can't soak in.

Scuba gear and a dry suit are necessary for getting in the gate.

This was taken over a year ago to highlight the milking floor, which I am about to remove. Along with the mattresses. Note the slanting midplate and desiccated rafter plate and compare it to the pics at the beginning. Yeah, I'm level on the level. Granpa would be proud.

The door and feed troughs removed.

This floor would take some work.

First job was to jack up the midplate in the center of the barn. It would come up three inches and no more. I didn't want to push it. 6x6 oak, it had been there holding up the floor for longer than my mother's family was in the Western Hemisphere.

I'd install a HUGE steel angle brace to attach it to the 6x6 post to the right. Scarfed from elsewhere, of course.

A gap between the multiple floors goes many miles down.

 

Once I removed the front flooring (only one layer of 2 1/2" thick timbers) I had to cut out the sleepers. These are trees without branches, flattened a bit on one side and laid on the dirt. It would be to this that the floors would be nailed. White oak, very rough. Tried the Sawzall. Took the Stihl chain saw.

Note the logs from which this piece was cut. I'll remove the rest of the floor someday, but I had to make this area walkable, as I had to install the second story floor. The original milking room was about five and a half feet high. What were the original farmers, midgets?

Piles and piles of garbage keep cropping up.

The flooring is cut out, piece by piece.

So are the sleepers. And the second floor. Of the first floor, I mean.

Looking better. The pile in the front, once removed, gave me about six-six of height. It would still have to be dug out more if aI wanted to install another wood floor later.

Later is the operative word here. I was in the midst of a long rain-free period by now, almost five days. A record. It had been July the last time we'd been so blessed. I wasn't going to waste it, I expected the deluge to start again any second.

A better view of the dirt being removed and of the lower milking floor timbers. Heart pine, 2 1/2" thick, just like the top floor.

I was getting really sore. Lots and LOTS of rocks kept appearing, and I had to remove them. The pile in the background would treble in size. Many were beautiful flat stones; I got the idea to make a fieldstone floor. That way I wouldn't have to move them!

What a freaking mess!

And the drivers-by, all my neighbors, slowed to gawk.

Prolly thinking "What a freaking MESS!"

THAT'S a milking floor! Actually only HALF a milking floor...look to the upper left.

Very, very sore from moving dirt. I'm almost sixty, for chrissakes.

And it still had to be moved out to the garden a wheelbarrow at a time. It was really really good dirt.

And I had to do it before the next rain.

Seven days! No rain!

And I also built the second story floor.

I decided to put in a set of ship's ladder stairs. I changed the design later. Too many steps.

Half the dirt gone! Note the rock emerging from the ground. RUUN, DOROTHY! RUUUUN!

Most of that wood in the MESS picture took two days to burn. Felt good standing next to the fire. Temps in the upper thirties for the whole job, easing into the forties. My favorite working weather. Spring was coming. I got my first tick bite.

We had storms with sixty MPH winds. Blew the bark right off my birdbath log.

Curse of winter and three dogs. The dogshit can't be cleaned up, it freezes to the ground. It took a whole day to clean the backyard after the thaw. Eight of those buckets full. But it was dry and old. And it convinced me to stop on the barn and make the backyard a place to enjoy. I rebuilt the firepit, the woodbin the garden fences. I removed the electric fence and installed outdoor speakers mounted under a cover so I could listen to music or NPR at the end of the day as I put my feet up on the firepit stones. The firepit! I hadn't used it in two years!

It is just now occurring to me that I am not under the gun, and I can actually enjoy this place.

At least until the government comes to take it away.

The garden, half cleaned. Half the barn dirt to make some great compost.

Garlic coming up. Have to separate it.

Cheerio is beconing a lapdog. Especially when it's thirty degrees and I sit at the firepit. And no, I didn't need the gas to get the fire going. Feet are toasty, anyway.

Speckle likes the fire. Especially after it's out. She eats the charcoal.

But then she eats everything. The teevee remote, anything left on the counter or kitchen table, the computer mouse, pink insulation, gravel, birds, moles, aluminum foil, black oil sunflower seeds, paper, cardboard, firewood, short stories, and an entire box of cocoa including the plastic box.

Never gets sick, and I am constantly seeing what she eats when I pick up after her. There are live mousetraps all over the tables and counters, and try as I might, she finds something I didn't think of.

She's very, very bad.

Planting spring seeds. Note the mousetrap. She'll eat these too. We've a few more freezes, then it will be horribly hot. Anything over fifty is too hot.