Just One Inch

All I asked for was one inch of rain weekly for the next few weeks to two months.  Just one inch.  Rain received in the last two weeks has been close to just over a half of inch each week.  Not quite one inch, but beggars cannot be choosy.  Besides, how can I be choosy and ungrateful when nature shows its gratitude all around us.  Having said this more than once and knowing it will be said again more than once, I am going to say it again.  Nature does not give a damn.  I may be mourning the loss of yet another tree from the lack of rain and wishing it would rain more to save them but the wildflowers are blooming.  Blooming on less than one inch of total rain in two weeks time.  Amazing.

Lack of rain only really affects human emotions.  The trees don't care.  The birds and the bees don't care. The grass and understory growth don't care.  If it rains they grow.  If it does not rain, they die back and wait for the next rain.  If it continues to not rain, they die back altogether and lay dormit until nature says the time is right to regrow.  Trying to save trees is stressful and pointless.  This one of the many pushed over trees from Harvey. In an attempt to lift spirits in the aftermath, this large tree was pulled up and cabled to another tree in attempt to save it.  It was heavily watered and well cared for and yet it dies.

 Coming to accept that the trees could not be saved and not wanting a four foot hole in the ground to trap some passerby dog/cat/kid, the Planner covered up the hole and sealed the fate of the tree to nature.  Human intervention can only save what it can save and efforts above and beyond are just wanted energy.  There are plenty of other things that needs our time that will produce better results than attempted tree salvage.  Guess the one inch of rain was a little too late.

It's Always About the Water

Two years since Harvey has past and the trees are taking yet another hit.  After surviving the winds and the 25"-30" of rain during Hurricane Harvey in 2017, then the 28" of rain in one week during the summer of 2018, the trees may finally have meet their demise in 2019.  On average, the coastal bend receives about 30" of rain yearly with summer being dry.  This year at almost three-quarters of the way through the year, we have received less than half of our normal rain allotment.  Add the lack of rain to the higher than average heat and the damaged trees are suffering once again.

Having called the local Ag-Extension office, we have been informed it could be anything from lack of water, residual damage from Harvey, delayed shock from the excessive amounts of water two years in a row, to heat stress.  But what is not, thankfully, oak wilt.  Oak wilt is TERRIBLE and virtually untreatable.  Caused by the spread of a fungus that disables the water system within the tree, it affects all types of oak trees at all stages of age.  Oak wilt slowly kills the tree via dehydration.  There are areas within the coastal bend that have experienced oak wilt but currently it is not locally.  Yet.

What is baffling is the areas of affected dying trees is also affecting the native under-story.  Native brush that is almost impervious to drought conditions such as yaupon and American beauty berries. One clump of trees affected are the three large trees behind the water collection tanks.  Some of the largest trees on the property, they were some of the hardest hit wind wind damage. The fourth tree in the clump perished with Harvey had taken the brunt of the wind and fell over onto the other trees.  The remaining three trees have never rebound correctly and have always looked less full than others.  Another clump of trees are small, wispy and young in age, maybe twenty years in age or so.  Nevertheless, loosing trees is hard to accept when tress are so hard to come by.

 By the middle of August, I could not stand by to watch the trees die any further.  Water collected from the shower nightly had been spread amongst the trees.  Each day a different tree received three to four gallons of water.  However, with threes that are 36" in diameter and 30' tall, a few gallons once a week is not enough.  In attempts to stave off any further dehydration issues and not having water to spare in the collection tanks, the Planner decided to dig a hole to determine the ground water level.  If water was accessible, it could be collected and poured onto the trees.  Something had to be done.

Scoop after scoop and each bucket full was just a dry as the last.  Thirty minutes later and the dirt pouring out of the bucket was dry as dust.  What is normally wet moist sticky blue clay was hard chalky clumps lacking the moisture to stick to my fingers let alone form a small ball.  Close to four feet down in a hole and no water could be found.  If Plan473 cannot use mechanical advantage to dig a hole straight down into the earth's core, then shallow rooted oak trees are at a loss.

Another week gone by with not a drop of rain and the Planner was once again stressing the lack of water.  Monthly water level checks have become weekly.  At three thousand gallons per tank, each tank only holds about three months of water supply at our current usage.  The one tank is within a few hundred gallons of empty.  With the lack of rain, two to -three gallons of water is collected from the nightly AC drip.  This water is shared between the plants in buckets, the doggo, and the chickens.  Bucket plants are watered enough water to stave off death but not enough to allow for blossoms. Birds and bees are gonna have to find food elsewhere.  It is getting to be serious around here.

 And then after another week of dry, hot, humid days it rains!  Not a downpour and not by any means enough to fill the water collection tank or repair damaged trees, it was enough to settle the dust.  Lasting less than 30 minutes and not raining more than a inches worth, it was beautiful.  Chickens were clucking around happily, frogs were singing, and everything looked fresh and clean.  Amazing.

It was just enough water that it pooled in low spots such as chair seats but not enough to wash the road out.  If the random rain shower had been anything more than what it was, it would have been a mess causing the dried out driveways to turn into sticky mud pits.  But it didn't.  It was the perfect amount of rain for not having rained in over two months.  Now if it could just do that once a week or so for the next two months and things would straighten themselves out.  An inch of rain each week would be perfect.  An inch of rain each week would end our stress at our lack of water once again.  Not being connected to city water and not having access to unsalted ground well water can be stressful at times like this.  Luckily for us, those times have been few and far between.

And would you know, just two days after having rained, the city was seen installing a city water main down our cross street.  City water less than 200' away.  Almost three years to date since Plan473 entered the Great Water Debacle at having discovered our little piece of land lack drinkable well water and city water was a more than the cost of the land itself, it looked like we might finally be able to secure a city line tap.  Of course, a city tap would come at a cost outside our current budget.  But it is nice to know, that if in the future if needed, we can obtain a city tap.  Having lived on collected water for close to three years, I can honestly say, I enjoy our system much more than the chemically laid city water.  Now, if we just get it to rain one inch a week.  Not being greedy, just one inch a week for the next few weeks to two months.  That would be perfect.

Aah, Middle School

The Kid is going to middle school.  And after a long summers of "I'm bored", "its hot", and general complaining, I can't say that I am sad to see him go.  Middle school here is a major change from elementary school as I guess it is in most public school settings. I went to a elementary/middle school where there were two teachers for every grade and less than 50 kids per grade.  My middle school years had the same eight teachers, two of which were the same from years previous as they were the art/computer/music teacher and the PE coaches.  To say the least I went to school with the same 40 or so kids from Kinder - 8th grade.  The remaining 10 or so kids rotated in and out.

Last week was open house/student orientation.  Not required but recommended, this kid was all about it. Most students would groan, grumble, and complain at being dragged to orientation. Not reminding their parents daily and then pacing with anticipation the day of.  Crazy kid.

Yesterday, we had to run over to the next larger city and get shoes.  Had all other means for school supplies except the shoes.  No time like the present.  Look how big his shoes are.  They are a men's 5.5! This the kid who just out grew toddler waist shorts has a foot big enough to ski. Maybe this is a size of the things to come. Or he could just be one of those men with feet to large for his frame, like a family friend David N.  Yes, David N. as there are about a dozen Davids between family and family friends.  David must have been a popular name during my parents generation.  Anyhoo... David N. is over 5'5" and has a size 15.5 shoe.  Talk about skies.  The Kid could be one his way to personal skies at this rate.

This morning the Kid was ready for school with his power shirt (one his sailing Regatta shirts), two working watches to make sure he is not late, a quick one last new shoe smell, and he was out the door.  Of course, this was not before eating with his comforts: one toddler monkey blanket and his beloved Raffi.  Not quite a tween just yet.

This afternoon was altogether another story.  Treating the Kid to pizza for dinner, we sat at the table and read thru and signed each student/teacher and parent/student/teacher contract.  After the third teacher's warning against messy, ill kept binders, the Kid was done with schooling for the year.

Aah, a tween after all...

Laid Daily

On July 25, the Brown Leghorn (Ears, named for her bright white ears) laid her first egg.  It was so tiny it did not even seem real at the size and weight of an oval shaped ping pong ball. Despite all her issues with the other hens and Nurple the rooster, she consistently lays her little tiny eggs.  As in lays her eggs daily.  None of these chickens are daily egg producers, so this must be part of her transition into a hen.  You know, kinda of like trying on adulthood to see how what works best.  If she was a daily egg layer, her life span expectancy would be very short lived as it takes tremendous amounts of energy to lay an egg.

A couple of weeks into her egg production the eggs are still very small, comparatively speaking.  In the above picture, the brown egg is from the Barred Rock and the blue is from one of the three Ameraucana.  Both of these eggs are smaller than large white eggs from the grocery store.  So yes, her eggs are very small indeed.

Being new to egg production, all kinds of mishaps can occur.  The eggs can be all white with no yolk, double yolk, and paper,y spotted or irregular shaped shells to name a common few abnormalities.  Another example are too small or too large eggs.  In the case of the Brown Leghorn it was an excessively large egg.

Now, I figure having eggs is like having children and the body adjusts for large eggs as it does for large infants.  But if the human body has a limit on the size of an infant it can safely birth, then a hen must have a limit on the size of an egg she can produce.  With the strain of this large egg, you can just barely make out the wavy shell on the top of the egg, left hand side.  Wavy shells are stress indicators for hens.  Stress can be from weather being too hot or too cold, nesting box being too crowded, and from the natural age of hen to name a few reasons.  Continued stress during egg production can lead to early death.  

Hopefully the Brown Leghorn situates her egg production quickly.  In the past week, she has laid daily one tiny egg with today's large egg being the exception.  At this rate of egg production, she will be past her prime before her age.  Hens without eggs are then chickens in a pot.  Maybe not a pot with her.  Maybe she will have to be a Cornish hen.  Cornish hen with lots and lots of side dishes.

Barn Raising

Just like the words to a Willie song (with slight modifications of course)

"There's just a little old fashioned gathering coming down 
Just a little old fashioned barn raising going 'round
A little bit of sweating and a little bit of reaping
A little bit of laughing and a little bit of weeping
Just a little old fashioned barn raising going down"


Wikipedia states a barn raising as" a collective action of a community, in which a barn for one of the members is built or rebuilt collectively by members of the community. Barn raising was particularly common in 18th- and 19th-century rural North America." 

Apparently Wikipedia is not familiar with Plan473 and all of its family and friends.  Since before my time, this is has been how houses, barns, garages, sheds, hunting cabins, etc... have been built.  They are affairs filled with lots and lots and lots of family and friends and children of said family and friends.  They are affairs where blood, sweat, and tears will be shed while tales both tall and not will be retold yet again for the umpth time, and ample amounts of food and drinks will start and end the day. They are affairs were workers are glad to help and IOUs are not tallied up because every one of the workers present has been the recipient of a barn raising affair in their own right.  Plan473 is by no means an exception to this rule. So with that, Plan 473 traveled for a barn raising event.

The only thing different yet better about modern barn raising events is the usage of modern tools and equipment.  With years of family and friends comes the collection of a variety of tools.  And tools as we all know, make the job so much better.  Not always easier as some jobs are just difficult in nature such as welding backwards and upside down.  Standing on a rickety ladder is for chumps.  Baskets on tractors with umbrellas for shade in the South Texas summer heat.

Or baskets on skid steers for the higher to reach peak beams.  To add to the list there are also precut frames, welders instead of hammers and nails, and lots of ice cold beverages.  With ample family and friends and their supply of useful tools the barn frame structure was assembled and installed in less than a day.  Now the roof (being done professionally).

Plan473 has received more than its fair share of help from family and friends during its time.  It is only because of generous family and friend support that the majority of what has been accomplished has been made possible.  To date there have been tractors, tractor implements, mowers, welders, too many hand tools to name, trailers, and countless man hours.  Being able to help another family friend accomplish one of his goal completes the circle. And like circles, what goes around comes around.

One final note.  If you are not familiar with Willie as in Willie Nelson, then you need to.  He is Texas and A Little Old Fashion Karma is legendary.

New Toys, I Mean Tools

After months and months of indecision, the new toy, I mean new tool has finally arrived. Not a lawn mower, not a brush grinder, but a brush mower.  Designed to cut brush and woody weeds, the brush mower was chosen as Plan473 no longer has access to the shredder. Well I should say no longer has easy access as the shredder now resides with the Worrier about five hours away.  And with no trailer to haul the shredder on either, the brush mower really was the only decision.  Having needed to the mow the spray field over two months ago, the spray heads were now completely over grown with cord grass and they are over two feet in the air!  We really should have purchased this months ago.

No time like the present. Having read the list of the all the safety gear one needs to operate the brush mower, the Kid was prepared.  Instructions were read, brush mower was assembled, and the break-in routine was followed. Guess the Kid thought taking notes on the break in routine could be dangerous to the ears and eyes.  I asked if he has safety gear for his brain.  When asked why, I said his brain was likely to explode after not having used it all summer.  Ha, ha. Score was for me! He did not find my humor as funny as me.

With the break in routine complete, the Planner gave it a once around the property to test all variants of brush.  He cut a pass through the cord grass, across the coastal patch, around the water platform, back through the seven foot tall sunflower patch behind the trailer, and back through the cord grass in a narrow path instead of full width.  Not bad.  The mower did not like the coastal grass much but this is to be expected as it not a mower and does not contain a mower shoot.  Without a mower shoot, the coastal is too long, stringy, and thick to mulch easily.

Unable to mulch, the coastal bunches up and leaves windrows.  Another pass and they were gone.  But not before the doggo had her fun.  Uh, uh, uh, grumble, grumble, moan, moan.  She was loving the freshly cut grass.  Really going to have to video her doing her dog grass rolls.  She makes the craziest of grunts and groans.

With a quick lesson on how to operate and what to do if you panic, the Kid was off mowing the thinner cord grass on the perimeter.  As with all things currently, the Kid does not weigh enough to handle the mower in the thick grass. That was left for me.

When the Kid's arms finally gave out (hard to handle a mower with twigs for arms) I finally got my turn.  In case you did not know, I was born for manual labor.  Let no blade stand before me.  Except when it is home to a wolf spider and her egg sac.  This lovely specimen was one of several dozen I mowed around.  Some were in sacs and some were on backs.  I wouldn't even let the chickens see them.  Don't know if chickens would eat a spider the size of a soda can lid but this was not a chance I was willing to take. Man how I just love new toys.  I mean tools.

Repairs, Yet Again

Having spent the better part of the morning enjoying the beautiful summer day at the harbor wall, Plan473 had to return home to spend the afternoon repairing.  Again.  If major rust control did not happen soon, we will be living in piles of rust.

Some of the repairs are due to design flaws such as all of the window hatches.  The window hatches are made square tubing and conex paneling as seen more clearly in post What Light!  Hatches then fit tightly around the window openings to secure against hurricane winds.  Conex panels are corrugated.  Corrugated panels with square tubing makes for water pockets. Water pockets makes for rust pockets.  Rust pockets leads to rust holes.  Rust holes lead to unsecured hatches.  Unsecured hatches leads to hurricane damage.

To alleviate the water pockets, small 1/8" holes were drilled in the panels to allow for drainage.  The Planner is confident these small holes will not affect the integrity of the hatch covers during a hurricane.  Hopefully, this theory will not be tested anytime in the next near future.

Once drilled, the rust and scale were sandblasted off and red primer was applied.  The Kid's Box only has three windows so his box repairs were easily completed.  The Work Box on the other hand....

My box, the Work Box was not in the best condition when purchased last March.  There was already come major scale concerns and lots of areas that needed to be stripped and repainted.  Well, that was last March and time at the Salt Capitol City of the World has lead to even more scale and more rusty areas.

A sand blaster was used to quickly remove the rusty areas with ease.  Many tools could have been used, but with rust in rusty environments, it is critical to remove corrosive rust before repainting otherwise the rusty spot will continue to rust under the fresh coat of paint. So with pitted rust, such as the Work Box contained, a sand blaster was the tool of choice.

Besides being quick, it does a better job than any hand sander and is easier too.  Easy is better as there is lots and lots to do.  Working around the door was easy as there were not areas of thick scale.  The sides of the box, where yet again the panel meets the tubing frame, was all together a different story.

Scale.  Lots and lots of thick corrosive, detrimental to box lifespan, scale. To save on sand media for the blaster, the Planner used a scaler to remove the scale.  No imaginative thought for that tool name.  Scalers, are a pneumatic tool with a bunch of tiny rods that vibrate back and forth and about a thousand RPM a second.  Very effective.  Better than a chip and hammer.  Trust me, we tried that before the scaler.  Maybe if I had all the time in the world and no electricity.  Maybe.  So with the scaler in hand, the Planner went off to remove scale.  Went off to create more work as it turns out.

Full disclosure, this thick scale was the reason repairs were started. There was just now way scale this thick had not worked its way down into the core of the frame work.  Holes to be repaired are work but water in the frame work is bad. Bad. Bad bad.

After scaling was complete, I came behind the Planner and cleaned the metal down to almost white clean with the sand blaster.  From the picture above, you can see how pitted the corrugated panel is from the deep level of scale removed.  Guess we should have descaled the Work Box last summer.  Can't image what the Shop Box frame work looks like as they have been up over two years already.  Ugh.

Upon cleaning, the Planner attempted to patch weld the tiny hole in the frame work. Big mistake.  Big.  What was once a small hole the size of an eraser is now a hole the size of a nickel.  Spot welding is not gonna work.  Gonna have to modify a piece of sheet steel to fit within the space and weld around its perimeter.

After many cardboard template cutouts, the perfect patch piece was aligned, welded, and red primer painted.  Be as it is with all Plan473 projects, time was not on our side and the project was abandoned for another day.

 Of course, we had time to stop and play with the neighbors' cat, Loca (Spanish for crazy) ...

and her two kittens Beans and Frank.  Loca was already named but is the most appropriate name for a cat if ever there was.  Beans and Frank are the Kids creation.  Originally he had something boring like Bob and Frank but after explaining about Beans and Weenies i.e. Beans and Franks, he decided Beans and Frank were better.  Unlike their mother, Beans and Frank were timid and very cautious.  Loca, not so much so.  She gave into the wind and its notion.  Which is probably how Beans and Frank came to be.  Oh, how Plan473 would love to have kitties.  Kitties to go with the goat.  But alas, we are on a NO MORE pet policy.  Chickens excluded from this rules as they are not pets.

All in all, morning slack time and late evening slack time aside, it was a very productive day at Plan473.

Pity Pets Integration

Three months have already come and gone since the Pity Pets were brought home.  When released from the coop to free range, the first few weeks they stayed as their own individual unit.  It did not take them long to roam with the pack. Being with the pack provided protection as Nurpel (the second acquired rooster) was on the hunt for a hen of his own as the new hens were his target. And as the senior flock are not pets, the Pity flock are not pets either.  In fact, I would say they are even less pet than the senior flock.  None of the feather friends can be held, touched, or collected.  On such occasions where a hen needs to be examined it takes all three of us to coral her in the 8x10 coop.  They are truly here for pest control.

Oh, and pooing on the deck and stepping stones. Daily, upon release from the coop, the hens follow a very rigid routine: 1) run to every water location (doggo water, water collection under Rainstream air conditioner, 5 gallon bucket in shower, etc...) and drink like as if you are parched and 2) upon water round completion, run to the deck and poop. Your sudden influx of water will run straight thru you and the poop will be a watery mess on the deck.  Perfect.

Stupid chickens.

So yes, within three short months the Pity flock has integrated fairly well into the senior flock.  When inside the coop, there seems to be very little arrangement of the pecking order, even amongst those at the bottom.  Feathers have almost fully returned and they have reached their full grown height.

The two Golden Lace Wyandottes (Twink 1 and Twink 2) are the slightly smaller than the Black Sussex (Squawky McSquawkerson aka Loudmouth).  Given a chance, they could over take her position as queen.  Not something I foresee in the near future as Grumpy still rules the roost, but it is possible.  Maybe.  Her look right now tells me to rethink that last statement, but her days are limited.  The Twinks have the even temperament of the Barred Rocks as they too are not very vocal and are happy being in the middle of the pack.

Closer in size to the smallest Barred Rock (Nosy Nellie, above) is the Golden Sexlink (Sunset) which can be seen in the above picture by the chicken ramp.  She too is very happy in the middle of the pack but is competitive when being released from the coop.  Watch out as she will charge out the door to be the first to the water bowl.  More than once she has had her head caught in the coop door.  Gulk! Other than her escape moments she is chill.

As for the Brown Leghorn (Ears), she is an outcast thru and thru.  The tiniest of all the hens, she was and is the most picked on.  I keep telling her it was because she slept on the coop window instead of the roosting bars.  But, hey what do I know.  She is also the only hen who lays white eggs which are so tiny they don't even seem real.  They are oval shaped ping pong balls.  When released from the coop, she leaves to do her own thing and manages to ward off the second rooster (Nurple) mostly. On very aggressive days, she will hang closer to the other rooster (Chicken) but away from the hens.  Days have come where Nurple has succeeded in catching a her, but the ruckus they cause results in Chicken chasing Nurple around and around.  It is an epic daily battle.  If the battle continues or if Nurple becomes too aggressive and hurts a hen, he will have to go.  The hens only need one rooster and Chicken is the man.

It is Chicken who surprised me the most during the integration of the Pity Pets.  He never once flocked them or chased them or rushed them.  He just watched and protected and they came around on their own for his protection.  To date, he has yet tried to advance upon them and yet is just as protective.  With exception to Ears, he is a perfect guard rooster and I cannot image having the hens without him.  Of course, he no longer sleeps in the tree outside the bedroom and rarely crows at 3:35AM anymore.  With time, Chicken has learned to temper back his beakadee-beakadee-beak-beak. Hopefully, he will be around for a little while longer to fully integrate any new additional flock members.

I Am Woman, See Me Weld

There comes a time when everyone needs their own space.  Living in tight quarters usually promotes this more often than for people living in McMansions.  Needing individual space comes more from having a tween than anything else.  If you have had or currently have a boy tween then you understand this next statement.  Boys Stink.  Must be a puberty thing cause it is not a shower thing as taking showers is a daily act of frustration for all at Plan473 but one that I the Queen Bee always win.  Somethings in life can be flexible, personal hygiene is not one of them.  So even with daily showers and teeth scrubbings (many times with threats to accomplish this myself) the Kid's box smells like a gym locker.  With the Kid needing his own space and me needed more office space than a 2 x 3 fold up table, the Planner and I worked out a quick fix.

First it started with a need for a fridge for cold water that was readily available and not a tromp to the Rainstream.  Having salvaged a dorm room mini fridge during Harvey, the fridge was dug out of storage and given a wash down.  The only visible damage from the storm was two small scratches on the side.  The side hidden by the wall.  Even inside glass shelves and crisper drawer were still intact.  Perfect.  It just needs to cool down two gallons of water.  Nothing fancy.

Quickly dried in the summer sun, the Planner and the Kid brought it inside, reassembled it, and leveled it the floor.  Checking to ensure the box door does not crash into the fridge, the unit was plugged in and water was chillin'. First office furniture installed in the Work Box, check.

Having spent the last 30 years around welders and their welder friends, I quickly discovered a trend.  All welders are men.  Huh.  Welding is not physically restrictive to woman as there are tools and equipment used to move materials.  Welding just has been a man's trade the same as daycare workers are women.  Being a teacher and daycare director for too many years to count, I can attest to this little known fact: men make fabulous teachers for children of all ages.  The Planner has always encouraged me to weld as I am meticulous, patient, and persistent. Well, what better object to try my hand at welding than my very own desk.  Not having to worry for strength integrity issues and with most welds hidden due to design, this would be a great first go around.

To ease my first experience, the Planner tacked all the edges, handed over the MIG welder gun, and walked away.  Knowing I have the understanding of what is needed as I have watched him and asked about his technique for 20+ years now, he also knew that I would do better without an audience. So he left. In the corner of his Shop Box with it feet propped up, he sat in a chair and proceeded to play on his phone as if nothing were more intriguing.  After switching position to position to find my zone, I concentrated, welded, asked questions, and repeated the process.  All corners done found the Planner staring at me.  Apparently I welded left handed and upside down.  Some where in my brain is a disconnect as I also crochet left handed and backwards.  The job gets done and looks exactly like it should but is done as no other person can do nor instruct me to do as they cannot do it themselves. In college when I wanted to perfect my womanly check boxes, I joined the crocheting guild at the local JoAnn Fabric and none of the members could help me learn.  Had to do it myself. Needless to say, I made one pot holder and a scarf and hung up the idea of making blankets.

Welding was not like that.  Welding produced real usable results.  With few exceptions, there is nothing that can't be ground away and started over on.  Welding will be done again as I enjoyed it almost as I enjoyed cooking.  When the time comes to build custom made built in cabinets and what not for the Home Box, I am totally gonna be the one welding.  I am woman, see me weld.  Welding can be added to my love of all things "manly": lawnmowers, weed-eaters, and above all others: CHAINSAWS.  Nothing like the smell of two stroke in the morning. Or noon or night for that matter.  Wait, what's that?  Is that the sound of a chainsaw a mile away?

A quick grind to smooth the edges and a blast of evergreen paint and the desk was almost done.  Next was the 3/4" plywood work top. Still having not mastered the skill saw skills after all this time, the Planner cut out the plywood.  Once done, I rounded the corners, smoothed the surfaces, applied a thin layer of bees wax, left it to cure in the sun.

After a full day of drying for both the frame and bees wax, the welder tacked the desk to the wall.  As a free floating desk to save floor space, the tacks are needed to ensure the desk does not move during any turbulent winds that may arrive during the next windy season.  The desk top was installed and computers were situated.  While not fully reconnected to the world yet, this 32" x 92" custom made work table is better than a fold up plastic table in the Kid's Box.  And is smells better too!