Work slower, not stupider, Joel.

Okay, so I confess I’ve developed something of a reluctance to begin the porch project because it seemed to me that once committed I had to ride the thing to completion in a single session. The very first step was pulling the stairs and catwalk away from the cabin, and that eliminates the front door as a method of egress for anybody not certified as a Chinese acrobat. Yes, I’m aware the Lair now possesses a back door, but I’m not sure that LB is. And LB is … well, he’s entering the “old dog” phase of his life, where he likes what he’s used to and resists what he’s not used to with all his considerable strength and obstinacy. He’s also borderline incontinent, so…

Anyway – mental conflict ensued. Also, let’s face it: I’m neither Bob Villa nor young Clark Kent, and just setting the piers might well take all the energy I’m willing to put into a day’s work. Doing the whole thing in a single session seemed necessary, but not all that realistic.

As with so many things lately, my solution involved cutting something apart with a reciprocating saw.

I’d sort of always intended to do this. The catwalk is big and heavy and has been in direct contact with the ground for many years – I scrounged it from an old shed somebody asked me to tear down, so I really don’t know how old it is but well over 15 years – so it was a) not going to stay together for long once I started towing it with the Jeep, and b) too wide to fit between the Lair addition and the juniper grove. I could either dismantle it in place or cut it up and haul it to a convenient place in pieces later. I decided to do half of that second thing.

I pulled it apart with a crowbar, denailed the intact 2X4s for later conversion to firewood and carried the rotten stuff to the burn barrel.

That allowed me to start digging for the piers while the front steps are still in place.

There was also a fencepost at the corner of the Lair that had to go. I planted this almost six years ago, as an anchor for the fence of the first temporary chicken yard. It was supposed to serve as a gatepost for when I fenced the front yard, which for various reasons never happened, so I planted it deep and with lots of concrete. Took a bit of effort to haul it out of the ground and salvage the post.

But then I could dig. And dig, and dig…

“Too deep” may not be the most beautiful phrase in the English language, but it’s far superior to “not deep enough.” Which is what I mostly told myself.

And at last…

Ta daa! That’s not the most complex part done by any means, but it really should be the only part that’s physically challenging. I’m not as young as I used to be. Mostly packed clay, but at least there weren’t a lot of rocks.

Finished a little after noon. Went inside, washed up, got lunch started and opened the door so LB could go out and pee. And he’s all like…

…”WTF you do to my yard, you honky mofo?”

No, that’s not racist talk. He’s black and incapable of acts of racism. Also, I identify as a honky mofo so he’s just being sensitive.