In this blog post, I will provide an update on retirement and then the progress we made while in Vermont in June 2023 on days two and three. And of course, I may go off on a bit of a tangent if the subject warrants it.
Ahhh, retirement! I’m two weeks in as of this writing. A sense of freedom from scheduled tasks, meetings, and the need to make progress on a daily basis. Prior to retirement, Charla and I discussed what our daily routine would be. We do think alike and so it didn’t take long for us to agree to sleep a little later, although Charla is still working (with some flexibility in her schedule), breakfast, morning coffee and the news. Then about mid-morning we would go for a daily walk (six days a week). It took a couple of days to work the kinks out of the morning schedule and get the hour long walking-route solidified.
I have found the walks provide a space for Charla and I to provide undivided attention to each other. I have learned a lot about flowers. Our flowers. Our neighbor’s flowers and the flower’s we need next year, and the year after. Which flowers are good for capturing seeds from, and which are not. Which seeds can be shared with family and friends. I also learned that a pretty flower can be an invasive weed that needs to be plucked from the ground such as the one pictured here.
Today’s walk centered a little around the past two weeks of retirement and the rest and decompression time I had taken advantage of. The subject then shifted to my list of projects and where I thought I would fit into my schedule picking raspberries in the garden, doing some laundry, and going to the grocery store. I was surprised at first with the suggestions, but agreed it was a just and reasonable ask now that I wasn’t working. I thought about the laundry for a bit and stated that if I was going to do laundry, then I wanted new appliances. The first part of the response from Charla I will keep between us, the second part I will share “I think you need to use the current washer and dryer for a while, so you know what functionality you want in new ones”. Another just and reasonable request.
I enjoy picking raspberries in the garden. It reminds me of picking raspberries growing up. The 17 acres of land (sugarbush) that we have in Vermont’s NEK (Northeast Kingdom), was part of the dairy farm I grew up on. After the mature maples trees were infected with Sapstreak in the 1960s, the trees were harvested for their lumber value before they died.
As the years went by, the entire 17 acres became a large raspberry and blackberry patch. Many individuals connected to the homestead would spend a portion of the day filling buckets with the sweet treats. Much of it is to be eaten fresh, some frozen, some gelled, and jammed for use during the coming winter.
When I was younger, I would often go “berry picken” with my grandfather, Louis Fortin (Pepe) on the 17 acres that I now own and have developed a deep appreciation for over the years. Fast forward to Episode 2 – Creating the Building Site over days two and three.
After the first day (afternoon) of cutting and stacking wood (last week’s post Episode 1 – Creating the Building Site), and coughing all night with remnants of bronchitis, my mind and body were reluctant to begin day two of our Vermont trip.
Charla and I finished our committed time to our full-time jobs in the morning and headed to the woods in light rain. The goal today is to continue cutting and blocking the trees occupying the spot where we are planning to build the new sugarhouse.
We arrived at the building site and looked at the work we had done the day before and remembered our pep talk to go slow, but steady. The first tree to come down was a small red maple and we were able to clean it up quickly. We decided to go for a larger birch with the next one. The tree was on uneven ground and with the rain, my footing wasn’t as secure as I wanted it to be. The rain was coming down harder when I got to the branch end of the tree.
This tree took a long time to find the end of each branch and work my way back to the tree itself cutting it to firewood length with each cut. Finally, the branches were taken care of, and I focused on the main part of the tree. One block of wood at a time until the tree was all cut. Charla is like a workhorse. As I cut the branches, she was grabbing them two at a time and dragging them to an area and stacking them. I now have a new admiration for this beautiful woman. (Videos of us cutting down, blocking and stacking clearing the site can be found here. This link is the short version. This link is the long version.)
We took a break after the second tree, both in silence as we looked at the dozen or so trees left to be taken. I’m not sure what was going on in my head, but we started this effort needing to take 12 trees. We had taken six at this point, and we still needed to take 12 trees. We took the third tree, another small one, and cleaned it up as the rain started to come down harder.
The original sugarhouse lay under the rubble about forty feet from where we were cutting. I began to imagine my grandfather at some point in the 1940s standing in the same spot thinking about how he was going to build the original structure. After consulting with an older cousin (M.F.), I suspect my grandfather worked with my grandmother’s brother using a two-person crosscut saw to cut down softwood trees and then cut them to log length in early springtime and let them dry throughout the summer. This would have reduced the weight of the logs somewhat. In the late fall when some snow arrived, usually in mid-November, they would have rolled the logs onto a large sled and using the team of horses, theywould have pulled the sled to a neighbor’s sawmill about half mile away. I remember very well the old sawmill as my father brought logs to the same spot. The neighbor would then cut the logs into beams, planks, and boards throughout the winter. In the spring, the lumber would have been ready to be picked up and used.
Day three was a much nicer day. Arriving around 1:00pm after completing our full-time jobs, we immediately took down two large white birches, and a small maple. The building site was beginning to open up a little as each tree came down.
As I was moving one of the large birch blocks of wood, I ripped my watch off. Two minutes later as I was carrying another large block of birch, I went to roll it off the top of my thigh to roll it down the hill toward where we were stacking the wood, and I forgot to put my thigh fully in front of me and I dropped it straight down on my foot. Hopping around for 10 seconds on one foot, Charla asked what was wrong. I explained that I had dropped the large piece on my foot. She stated, “Oh no!!" Then she started laughing. A little back story. Before we came to Vermont, we had gone to the local Super Shoes looking for “shit kicker” type work boots. I insisted that we get steel toed work boots. Charla found a pair, but I couldn’t find any that were comfortable. I explained that I had experience working in the woods and I would be okay. My right foot was throbbing, and my left ear was getting an ear full about how my experience was working for me. I think it is time to conclude day three.
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