Updates on previous blog postings.

I have a tendency to post about a project in the middle of it, then as it gets closer to finishing it; I often become less excited about it, since I'm usually already thinking about my next project that I am really excited about, so I thought I would post a few updated pictures of the projects I have been working on:

The new barn is coming along nicely if a little slowly; I've begun framing on the inside.

One of the really rewarding parts of my life now is that my boys are becoming old enough to actually help.  It is really awesome, and they are pretty into it; I don't have to flog them to come and help their old man.  They can really be a big help, and I don't really know why, but it brings joy to me to show them how to do stuff.  I really enjoy enabling their little imaginations to create actual stuff.  Maybe I mentioned this already but I remember so desperately wanting to build stuff, to make stuff when I was a kid.  I told my oldest boy several months ago that I wouldn't teach him to weld until he was 10, though, just to be on the safe side.  (one month away, now)

Various stages of the new cider press.

In primer

2nd coat

 And a new project!  Meet Blossom, our latest addition to our Farmlet.  We bought/traded a Hog for her from our good friends the Falls.  She is Holstein, though she lacks some of the classic coloration, and she is a bred heifer, about 2 months gone.  She is a very friendly girl, sometimes almost too friendly as she is inclined to think that any time you aren't feeding her, you should be scratching her, and so she prompts this by rubbing her head on what ever part of you is closest.

I think I will take this moment thinking about teaching my boys how to do stuff to chronicle how I learned to weld. I have recounted this story to my own father, who took it in good humor; I don't think he will take it as disrespect to retell it.  This welding project above has made it freshened in my memory.

I was probably my older son's age, 9 or 10 (just guessing) when it occurred to me that I MUST learn to weld.  In my household growing up, while my Dad had plenty of woodworking tools, we by far used more welding, torching, metal cutting tools etc.  So after begging my father, who is a quite accomplished welder, mercilessly, (probably the only thing that I was ever allowed to beg for) he finally consented to teach on Sunday next, after church.

I was beside myself with excitement; I was going to learn to weld! (oh, Joy!) We only had one helmet, but I had a darkened welding lens that came out of an old helmet that I could just hold over my eyes so that I could watch the instruction, so I was ready!  Sunday finally came, we got home and ate Sunday dinner, then dad settled down for a nap (oh, agony!) and finally, he woke up and I reminded him. "That's right" he said.

We walked outside to the old Lincoln cracker box welder, parked beside an elm stump that we used back then as our workbench, in silence.  Dad turned the welder on, hooked up the ground, and stuck a new electrode in the stinger.  He put the helmet on, in lifted up position, turned and looked at me and said "One time", which is classic Mr. Foster for, pay close attention, you only get this once.  He then flipped down the helmet, busted out a three inch bead on a piece of metal and said, "Practice that" and left. I spent the rest of the afternoon making short bursts of ZZT! noises and then wiggling and yanking my electrode loose. Those of you who have ever learned to stick weld, regardless of the instruction given, I think you will sympathize with the level of frustration in this sort of anti climatic situation.  ZZT! Yank, ZZT! Yank, ZZT!, Yank... But I eventually figured it out, now that he had basically given me permission to try.

The funny thing is, I reminded my Dad once about this experience a couple of years ago.  He laughed and even though he didn't recollect it at all, he took it as the good natured ribbing that it was meant as.  His response was that his lesson to me was a whole lot better than my Grandpap's to him.  Dad said when he asked Grandpap to teach him to weld, Grandpap's response was, in his unique, quintessential raspy and agonizingly slow drawl: "Weeeeeell, .......you can't really teach.... welding........... there's just them that can............. and them that..... can't." End of lesson. (you would have had to know my Grandpap)