In Which We Start The Treehouse (a 7QT post)

My kids want a treehouse.

They want a treehouse really badly.

But our woods aren’t really ours, and our trees are nowhere near big enough.

But oh, Grandma and Grandpa have trees. Big, sixty-year-old silver maples just crying out to be made into a treehouse.

On Easter Sunday, Alex and his cousin E. designed a treehouse. I really thought it was a lark–a cool idea, but not very practical. But Grandpa liked this idea. Grandpa pulled out his graph paper and started designing, looking around the farm to see what leftover lumber he had…and now the family has scheduled an entire weekend to get together and build the grandkids a treehouse.

This week, the boys and I celebrated the first week of summer by going up to the farm to pull nails out of old boards in preparation for the big build.

___1___

Nails 1

Notice that growth on my leg? He was terrified of the tractor and absolutely determined to be in the line of fire. I had to take him up to the house to play until the tractor shut down. What's that? Why yes, I do wear sunglasses inside. At least when I'm working in extremely dusty conditions. Gas permeables, baby.
Notice that growth on my leg? He was terrified of the tractor and absolutely determined to be in the line of fire. I had to take him up to the house to play until the tractor shut down. What’s that? Why yes, I do wear sunglasses inside. At least when I’m working in extremely dusty conditions. Gas permeables, baby.

___2___

When Grandma and Michael returned, post-tractor, he decided he had to get in on the action.
When Grandma and Michael returned, post-tractor, he decided he had to get in on the action.

Nails 4

Last board

  ___3___

After all that hard work, the boys deserve a treat, right?

Brace yourselves. If you’re one of them thar city folk, you may find this shocking. But sometimes, on a hog farm, animals die. And they have to be dealt with somehow. On this farm, they became compost. And, er, an archaeological zone for my boys. Don’t ask me to explain the stroller. Even I am stymied to put words on that one.

Burial site

___4___

This interesting cinderblock building is the garage. Dirt floor, horse tack dating back to my grandfather’s childhood, and the most interesting grain bins on the second floor. Obviously it’s not in great shape anymore. My parents are preparing to demolish this institution of my childhood (boo hoo!), but in true farm fashion its innards are being repurposed for…wait for it…a treehouse.

Garage

 In the meantime, Alex has discovered a new favorite activity for a farm visit: climbing down from the window:

Garage climb

Garage climb 2

___5___

The equipment parking lot, with the soon-to-be treehouse framing it

IMG_1409

___6___

Ah, now for a nice lunch with Grandpa….

IMG_1410

…and a nice rock with Grandma.

IMG_1412

___7___

And since we’re on an agricultural theme, and Miss Julianna was still in school on the day we visited the farm, let me round out the post with a picture of her at her first adaptive horseback riding lesson.

This is a very deceptive photo. Because for the first forty-five minutes she was flat on the horses back screaming. Miss R. finally got her to smile by singing A Spoonful of Sugar.
This is a very deceptive photo. Because for the first forty-five minutes she was flat on the horse’s back screaming. Miss R. finally got her to smile by singing A Spoonful of Sugar.

7 quick takes sm1 7 Quick Takes about wearing triceratops hats, signing Kindles, and standing in the middle of Times Square wearing an epic selfie t shirt