After the basement was erected and T.H.P. and I weather-proofed it, we waited for the contractor to install the subfloor. Well, we thought we were waiting for the contractor to install the subfloor. Apparently what we were really waiting for was for bad weather to roll in, since that's what happened. Now we're into February--the rainy season on Cold Mountain. (BTWs, when it "rains" at 2400' elevation in the winter, it's not "rain.")
Only recently has the subfloor gone up, and the basement framed in. With all the precip, though, the basement was more like a kiddy pool, for like, 24 kiddies. Eskimo kiddies. Nevertheless, we began to get our first real feel for the theater room, bedroom and mechanical room that will be on the ground floor.
We were so excited to see the basement take shape. Instead of imagining what the ground floor would look like, we could now actually see how the stairs come down from the middle of the kitchen on the main floor, to a landing with a window right there at knee height, and culminating in a walled-in bedroom with no egress whatsoever.
Hey, wait a minute. That ain't right....
My husband studied on it for a moment, and then seemed to be giving considerable thought to how he would address the issue with the builder. He pointed out that the stairs to the basement were not accessed upstairs from the middle of the kitchen. There was a bit of a friendly disagreement as the builder continued to insist it had been done correctly.
That's when T.H.P., kindly but firmly, went to get those blueprints.
"No, man," he said, physically turning to face the basement sliding glass door hole and pointing to the plans, "the stairs dump out here, in front of that door."
Two grown men stood there, hands on hips, staring up at the very large hole in the subfloor, and contemplating the day's work it had taken those men to frame up the basement backwards. They both looked down at the plans, and then up at the basement sliding glass door hole, back down at the plans, and then behind them at the framed-up staircase. It was synchronized ciphering as they oriented themselves to the obvious reality that someone screwed up.
I kind of liked the window in the stairway.
Thankfully, though, the error was caught and corrected before the logs went up. That would have been a big deal.
Then there was the footer issue. When excavating for the support pads (deep and wide holes filled with concrete on which beams that support the roof and porches sit) the track hoe fellows encountered a rock ledge on the left side of the cabin. New footers had to be dug in something everyone kept referring to as "virgin soil." The result, after much deliberating by the menfolk, was T.H.P. and me making a Lowe's run that night for 18 bags of concrete weighing 80 lbs. each. The next morning he poured concrete mix into the new footer holes while I made trips with a 5-gal. bucket to get water from a 50-gallon trash can he had rigged up with a spigot. The work crew took a break while Paul mixed and I toted...but they were very complimentary about how well I kept up with my little bucket brigade.
We're back on track now and everything is progressing well. Knock. On. Wood. Logs. It's really exciting to see our getaway--and one day, our retirement home--take shape. Lincoln logs are being stacked, and we who are easily entertained are giddy with future possibilities. I can walk into a real log cabin shell now and imagine the master bedroom with a bark accent wall and a sliding chicken door (another story ENTIRELY.) I can stand in the kitchen where there is not, now, a gaping hole in the floor, imagining myself at the sink putting up preserves. I can stand in the great room with the great view, even if there aren't any windows yet. As our 3-sided porch takes shape, I can stand out there too, imagining me and T.H.P. perched on high Adirondack chairs and snuggled in blankets, reverently taking in another gorgeous sunrise.
We can picture ourselves there. It's a special thing: to picture yourself somewhere you really want to be. We're finding it's an even specialer thing to have some hand in helping to build that picture. Our tree house picture may have had a few setbacks--from weather, and workmen, and whatever--but we're making a home. And we can see ourselves in it.
