Heidi has a new painting studio. It is far from completed, but we managed to put it together enough for her to move in and start painting. Lacking siding and interior finish work, it is a bit on the homely side. Heidi seems to dig it though, and she has asked me to put together a posting on its somewhat unusual construction.
Considering that I have been working on the place for over 4 years, there is quite a bit to tell. So, I thought I’d go back to the beginning and tell the whole story. And the story of Heidi‘s studio starts with a story about a horse. This little guy.
A pony really. Pinnochio was his name. He had had a career of jumping over barrels and hedges at a riding school in Vershire, VT. Everybody called him Noki. He’d been a bit of a trouble maker at the school and had never worked in harness before. I’d not seen a horse since I was a kid and had never driven so much as a goat. Sounds like a recipe for disaster, I know. But we managed. Using a restored leather harness with wooden (of course!) hames we started dragging stuff around. We had a few hair raising events here and there; he never really settled down, but he really took to the pulling. 
I built this little stable for him. I hewed the timbers with an adze that I bought on E-bay. Most of the rest is salvaged material. The whole thing cost about $600, mostly for the cedar roof.
To augment his paddocks I made him this portable one. He loved being on fresh grass everyday, and mowed the lawn at the same time.
It was clear from the start that he had some draft genes in him. But it was really cool to see him get excited when it was time to get into harness. I made him this little sled and we spent his first winter dragging it and some short logs around the corral. My boys were still little, and thus still mildly curious about what I do, and they were there to provide a bit of ballast on occasion.
And who wouldn’t take a free ride back to the top of the hill.
Once Noki had the hang of it he could begin to earn his keep.
I put sides on the little sled to gather up the hay. Mowed with a scythe and tedded with a rake it was really cheap hay. You'd probably call it organic.
And this is where the story of Heidi’s studio begins. But perhaps a bit of back ground on the author would be in order here.
I have a bit of a “thing” for wood. The raw material. The first material worked by man was most likely wood and this natural substance is still the backbone of all building and industry. Even the steelworker makes patterns of wood, and stone arches are built over removable wood forms.
I have always looked for alternative sources of wood. By alternative I mean cheap, preferably free. Very early on I found that wood in log form, or “in the bole” can be had for free almost everywhere. First with a froe, and then with a big 18” resaw, I started getting boards out of logs and stickering them to dry. Initially there is a lot to learn, and much waste. There are the heartaches associated with moisture content before one breaks down and spends $200 on a moisture meter. But after a while you have lots of wonderful wood.
When you are just one person, though. Just a single man with some tools. There is a limit to how large a log you can handle. Really big stuff can be split before you move it but this wastes a lot of wood. I made a harness for myself to skid logs but no matter what, I always had to pass on the really big logs. And they have the best boards. I got to thinking, if only I had a horse. Why, then I could get the really big stuff and build Heidi a studio.
So, like I said that’s where Noki comes in. We went to work.
The woods behind us is all conserved. Owned by a rich banker from Boston, so I’m told. I’ve never met the fellow, but indirectly I obtained permission to take some trees off his land. The area had been savagely logged by a previous owner and there was a great deal of damage and erosion. Many trees were compromised and either blown down or dying. Working with a forester to decide what to take, and “releasing” apple trees as I went, Noki and I spent the winter logging.
Like, I said he really loved to pull. He’d give it everything he had, every time.
The firewood really started to pile up. Which is good because it was cold. Really cold. And way out in the woods, in the depths of an icy winter, a man can get a little edgy.
The work pays off, though. The big logs are no longer out of reach. Heidi’s studio was born.
The next spring I turned to the backbreaking work of building a foundation.
Skidding a boat load of stone with an energetic pony is dramatic, dangerous work. I never allowed anyone around so have no photos of the event. I’ll try to describe it as best I can.
Our five acres is a big square field. The overgrown hedgerow has an accumulation of junk and debris going back 150 years. Most numerous are the large and small stones that have been pried loose from the field during plowing and dumped around the perimeter. Using pry bars, levers and wooden rollers, I reclaimed theses stones one by one. Noki would drop off our little sled and go have a snack. It took some time to load the stones I'd most recently pried loose from the tangle of roots and old farm machinery. After that I’d most likely need a break.
Hitching a hyped up pony to a loaded stone boat is one of the most difficult tasks I have ever had to accomplish over on over for weeks on end. I’m behind him, tight on the lines walking up through the field. He’s trying to get the tops of timothy, just out of reach of his check reign. Flies are buzzing and his gorgeous black tail is never still.
He sees the sled, loaded with stone. His ears go back, listening to my every move and sound. He is tight now, tense, trotting in place as we come up on the sled from the rear. I’m talking to him softly, telling him how handsome he is.
We pass the sled on the right and I tell him “Gee over,” but he’s already shifting to the right. I give him a sharp “Whoa” but it takes a heavy pull on the lines to stop him, and then he’s pulling on the bit and it’s all I can do to get him to stand.
You, have to get right up under him to hitch up. On these heavy pulls everything needs to be short and tight. He knows what’s coming and it takes all my strength on the lines to keep him still. I say softly “Stand,” over and over. The hook on the single tree has to fall into a ring on the sled. It has to go in loose, any strain on the traces will instantly cause Noki to pull, with me still between him and the boat. He is just too excited by the heavy pull that he knows is next. I carefully pull back on the single tree, a massive piece of ash with heavy iron strapping that I’d made in the shop the previous winter. It misses the hook by 6 inches. I need Noki to back up.
“Back! Noki, Come on Back,” I say, releasing tension on the lines just enough to give a little jerk. He searches with a hind foot. Making sure it’s clear. He knows; fouling on a chain is no fun. The little give from backing is all I need. Noki is still putting his foot down as the hook clinks down into the ring.
Noki hears the iron on iron “clang“. I know it’s all he needs. Instantly I’m on my feet, a greasy black leather line in each gloved hand. I give Noki the click click to start him off but he’s already into his collar. The sled is sticking in the mud a little and he feels the full weight of the stone. I growl, “Get Up!” His hind hoofs dig in as he drops into a crouch. Noki launches himself forward, in a leap that would propel him and a rider over a 5foot wall. The horsehair and leather collar takes the full force of the explosion and with a jerk the sled breaks free from the mud.
Noki is low all the way down the hill. He is working hard, His glistening muscular form is in spasms. It takes everything he’s got. Once on the load he wants it done quickly. Coming in on the pile of stones that’s been forming, I have to keep him lined up. If I stop him just right, I can just roll the stones off. I bring him to a stop and have him take a step back to slacken the chains. Noki is breathing hard, his sides are heaving. I’m excited and relieved, another run down, with no broken bones.
At this end of the run he is docile and his stand is perfect while I unload the stones. All that’s necessary is to loop off the lines on a cleat attached to the shed. Once unloaded I can hitch a ride back to the hedgerow on the sled. Noki will go back to his stable for some hay or maybe go out on a little grass for a while. I collapse for a break before I go pry loose the next load of stones.
And so it went for a time. Grueling, back breaking work of the most mundane sort interspersed with hair raising adventure. Slowly, one load at a time my pile of stones grew. Until I had deemed it sufficient. Then I went and got a shovel.
The foundation progressed quickly. I cut a drain under the first course of stones and filled it with crushed rock. The same material from the hedgerow, pounded into rubble with my grandfather’s old sledge hammer. Yes, you end up singing Peter Gabriel over and over. You just can’t help it. Two or three swings against a nice piece of granite and at the top of my lungs, it’s “I wanna be… YOUR SLEDGEHAMMER!” Kaboom, more rubble.
After extending the drain forty feet down slope to daylight, (more crushed rock in a trench, covered with layers of old hay), I started building the foundation walls. I was digging in heavy clay, so was able to use the sides of the 3 foot deep trench as an in situ form. Only time will tell if I did a good job, but early indications are that drainage is excellent and the whole thing is sound. I haven’t pointed the whole of the exposed surfaces yet, but once that’s finished it should last as long as we need it to.I do know that it is a very inexpensive foundation. Both in terms of cash outlay and also our carbon footprint here at WCS. Of course, my priority is always to keep costs down, but this brings us back to what I mentioned previously. Everybody knows that eco friendly is where it’s at. People want to do the right thing, but they’ve got you all in such a rush. Most folks wouldn’t hesitate to call in a backhoe and pour some concrete should they need a new foundation. And I see structures, billed as eco friendly, sitting on huge concrete slabs all the time.
I’m not delusional, though. Don’t worry. I don’t think that my stone foundation is going to save the world. I do think my stone foundation is going to make for one very eco friendly studio, however. Way more eco friendly than Brad Pitt’s silly resort. And way more real. Just like everything I build here at WCS. Whether it's a stash box or an electric guitar.
Tune in next time, I’ll show you what some simple, but very nice, hand tools can do with those logs, after my sawyer does his thing, that is. No more adze for me.
IW
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