For several months now, every which way I look, there are piles of wood.
Outside, we have piles of branches waiting to be cut,
forgotten heaps hidden beneath the undergrowth,
trees and hedges waiting to be trimmed or cut down,
logs in the process of being made,
and multiple piles of ready cut logs, drying out.
Inside, there are dried logs ready for the wood burner,
logs saved especially for decorative purposes,
planks ready to be used for work surfaces and internal structures,
and random piles in any would-otherwise-have-been-empty corners of rooms, lying in wait for Will to be in a position to test out his wood lathe.
Some pieces have almost become part of the family - take this beam for example which has spent years resting on the stairs waiting to be incorporated in to the building. We have become adept at not banging our heads on it as we climb the stairs, and at not tripping over it at the top of the stairs.
One day, it won't be there. It will be attached to the wall. But I bet it will be a long time before we stop tripping over the empty space at the top of the stairs it will have left behind.
Next blog - Progress
