A Loft

The loft framing is done:

That vertical steel beam (one of two) will support the eventual overhead crane.

The floor of the loft is set and stained:

The husband said he chose that color so it wouldn’t show dirt.

Stuff is gradually moving from the old garage to the new shop. When I got home from church on Sunday, I discovered that the big metal welding table that was against the wall was gone, which makes getting in and out of my car much easier.

I expect that the bolt bins will be moved soon, as they are going to live upstairs in the loft. The loft will get some railings—I asked—but probably not until everything that will be stored there has been put in place.

Yes, this is a pretty swanky shop, all things considered, but the husband made do for over two decades with a shop that was barely adequate. I love seeing the way he has designed everything so efficiently. He will have beefy electrical service, air hoses where he needs them, and plenty of good lighting. Eventually, there will be a lift and a crane for working on vehicles and heavy equipment. And as we all know by now, anything worth doing is worth doing in excess.

Plus, I get to turn the old garage into a sewing machine repair workshop and I’m not going to complain about that.

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My friend Anna and I drove up to Whitefish Sunday afternoon to pick up some chickens. The father of a friend of hers died unexpectedly last week. The family is overwhelmed and didn’t know what to do with the chickens, so she asked if we could take them. There were two Rhode Island Reds and a Barred Rock, all of which were chicks last spring. I brought them home and the husband introduced them to the rest of the chickens. They have blended right in, literally. I couldn’t find them now if I tried.

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The host of a podcast I follow (A Farmish Kind of Life) posed an interesting question on social media yesterday. She wondered if an episode on how to deal with the less-busy months of the year on a homestead would be of interest to anyone. She pointed out that for a lot of homesteaders, the spring-summer-fall months are so busy that there is no time for the brain to go places it shouldn’t. Without that level of activity in the winter, some people are more prone to mental health issues.

It’s a valid point. So much of homesteading is a “feast or famine” proposition—either you’re so busy you meet yourself coming and going or you can’t do anything beyond peruse seed catalogs and imagine what the garden will look like without all of that snow.

I’ve been lucky enough not to suffer from that particular malady. I enjoy the winter months as a respite from the frenzied activity. During the summer months, I might see the husband for 15 minutes in the morning and 15 minutes in the evening. I rather enjoy having him around when he can’t pour concrete. But we are unique in that arrangement. Many of my friends struggle with the gloominess of January and February, and February in Montana typically sees a spike in suicides, unfortunately.

So I hope she goes ahead and does an episode focusing on that topic. I think we could all benefit from ideas on how to make ourselves more mentally resilient.

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Our dryer—which runs on propane—has been having issues. A few weeks ago, the timer stopped working. The dryer will dry clothes with heat intermittently. The rest of the time, it’s cold air only. We bought that dryer 24 years ago when we built the house, which makes it old enough that Amana is no longer manufacturing parts for it. If the county hadn’t outlawed dumpster diving at the garbage sites, the husband would go there to look for a replacement timer. He found one on eBay and we are waiting for it to arrive.

It would be lovely if we could get another 24 years of use out of that dryer, but I’d settle for four or five.