Branch Down

The wind ripped through our back yard this week and twisted the big cherry laurel branch until it snapped--this is the branch that has provided shade for the fish ever since we moved in. A benevolent branch but not of a sturdy stock. I've watched it over the years, hanging there in defiance of gravity, much too fat for its own good and holding onto the mother trunk with no regard for common sense. More than once I considered trimming it back.



I was able to cut most of it down and carry the big limbs to the street. But since then it's rained and rained. I look out at the messy pond, the broken fern branches and the little remains of tree. What a soggy mess, all because I was too tired to finish the job when I had the chance.

Jam wanted to steal my t-shirt from the table, so I let him wear it for a while. Looks better on him than me.

A New Bridge

The old bridge over the upper pond is black and creaky and tired after several years of duty. Whoever designed it had good intentions, hoping that the graceful arch would add some additional grace, but the arch is too steep, and even the dogs are reluctant to walk over it for fear of slipping on the moldy foot boards. I can count the number of times I've crossed it in nine years, and I can count the number of times I've slipped onto my butt, which is once, just the other day. Once is enough.


So the Fall-Winter backyard project has a new sub-project (in addition to the pergola/gazebo and new flagstone walkways). Because I'm getting better with SketchUp, the design only took an hour or so, and I'm pretty happy with it. I've flattened out the arch, and the thicker bridge posts will have caps like the ones on the fence, so hopefully things will tie together.


In the meantime the summer rains have been very agreeable to our new plants, all thriving in their pots. Maybe by next Spring, when the hardscaping is complete, we can find a permanent home for these guys.


Our new pepper plant is in a state of compulsive production, which is OK, but I've been talking to her and telling her to chill out and take a break--we don't need 40 peppers every day. Maybe she's telling me that she prefers being potted. Maybe she knows how many of her species have met a bad end in our yard after I forced them into the ground.


Time is running out for my decision on the pergola/gazebo, but I just can't find the right design, something that is simple, practical and beautiful, and with just enough arch to make us happy. I'm looking.

Mystery Pagodas

I continue searching everywhere for a gazebo design that speaks to me. I love all the mini pagodas that I find, with their dramatically curved roofs, but they are a mystery because not one of them have plans or drawings or a clue about how to build them. How can this be?



I can sort of imagine what lies beneath the roof, but not with sufficient confidence, and I seem to more cautious these days, less likely to just make something up on the fly.

And then I wonder if such a thing would be appropriate, anyway, for our backyard Florida hammock, to be tucked under those big oaks and surrounded by philodendrons and viney things. Wouldn't a more rustic structure blend in? And so the waffling continues.


I consult my assistant project manager, Jam, but he insists on a beach theme. What a good boy

The Virtual Woodworker

My search for the perfect design has taken a dark turn. I'm torn between two different concepts--the gazebo and the pergola--and I waffle back and forth, nothing new for me because I've always been a waffler, but now there is a new layer to my waffling. Now I'm learning Google SketchUp, a free graphics software that allows me to see my ideas in 3-D and from all directions, which is an apparently good thing except that using the software is a type of addiction, an infectious hobby that has attracted a whole community of people on the internet who do their projects only with this software, never actually bring home the wood or cut it or assemble it. These virtual woodworkers display and share their finished projects online, and they discuss with great detail how they solved each technical difficulty (of the software, not the wood). And I am beginning to understand why.

Using the software, mistakes are easily erased away, and there is no end to the possibilities, all of which are free except for the time that is sucked away during the process. Try this, try that, make this thicker, thinner, etc. It never ends.

But back to the gazebo and pergola. A gazebo has a roof while the pergola is open. A roof means rafters, and rafters are installed at an angle, and angles are tricky to do in the SketchUp software, at least for novices like me, especially when you consider that that gazebo I want to build is a hexagon.

By contrast, the software is allowing me to easily create and try different pergola designs. Here's a pergola design that I'm considering:

But I don't like the idea that the software is pushing me in one direction of another. I do not like this one bit. I'd prefer to concentrate on the practical issues.

For example, pergolas are ideal to support flowering vines, while the gazebo's roof is not so good for vines. Also, building a roofed gazebo could prompt one of our nosy neighbors to complain to the city, which could require the pulling of a building permit.

More later.

Good Luck, Coach

Possibly it's because I've been distracted by other events, and with a eye to ignore the inevitable, I guess, so that the inevitable would not come--yesterday Coach went in for training and we may never see him again. The best we can hope for is a quick hello when he becomes a guide dog, though I can't even allow myself to hope for it because hoping did not work in the past with our other dogs.

The day would not be delayed, and today Coach is at school. And though we have every reason to believe that he's very happy with his new classmates and his new life, and though we had known about this for months--the exact date and time of his IFT (in for training)-I am almost confused today about his absence.

At some point during the past several days, I'm not sure when, I've finished the hallway table project. I felt sure there was something else that could be done, but there's not.

Good luck, Coach.

A Hall Table

I'm struggling with curves. These curves haunt my early morning hours, elusive, beautiful. And these aren't curves of the feminine kind (well, usually not)... No, these are curves in wood, like the ones in the Japanese azumaya that I was planning to build.

Long, graceful curves along the wood grain. Easier said than done--these are very, very difficult cuts.

The beauty of a curve comes from its simple and perfect grace, something that diminishes with each slight imperfection, even those not apparent to the eye. Our brains are hard-wired to appreciate the perfection of nature expressed in geometry and symmetry. If the cuts aren't perfect, I will look out and hate them every day.

It turns out that the design shown above is an Americanized version of a pagoda roof--an authentic roof of this type should achieve its curve without having to actually cut curves into the rafters. So now I searching for a new, authentic plan (I'm not giving up).

In the meantime I'm exploring some curves in the hall table I'm building for Cheryl. I also found a way to cut some nice tapers into the legs. Even these small curves are tormenting me. I've just finished gluing the legs and aprons.

This will be a really delicate hall table just by the entry to the kitchen.

At some point time in the near future, the dogs will run into the table at full speed and turn it into splinters.