This is what I do now.

This is bittersweet.

Sweet, because I took some risks that kinda worked out. Bitter, because I had to send my baby out into the real world; and, now I feel like a parent at graduation, happy and sad at the same time, for the same reason. The past couple months have been pretty exciting. I abandoned the prospects of conventional employment and struck out into some pretty deep water, in a tiny boat. Right around the time I pulled anchor and set sail, I heard from Catherine, a much needed gust of wind in my untested sails. I am a risk taker. I know I am. Plenty of people see this as a liability, but a few -dare I say, precious few- see it as an asset, a rare quality. Catherine needed something different, unique, handmade or whatever you want to call it; she needed something that felt right. She gave me her trust, the most valuable form of compensation, and I pray that I earned it honestly. After all, this is what I do now.

Finishing up the last few things on a list that grows an extra task or two for every one that gets crossed off. Think the cardboard "FARM USE" tag looks a little suspicious, being duct-tapped over an old Wyoming plate and all? Yeah, me neither.

I thought it might be cool to try this. The stick of wild cherry I used for the "sistered" braces came from a tree back behind our house. I really like it.

The rabbit hutch, without the wire stapled in. I split a white oak log four ways, turning it inside out to make corner posts.

Here we are, 5 hours after leaving Buena Vista. I guess this serves as the uneventful introduction to Helga (short for Helga Beast), the 1980 F-350 (translation: tugboat on wheels) I bought for $650 to pull the trailer. She's getting her own makeover post, just as soon as I get time.

First order of business: finding the only patch of mud on the whole property and promptly burying as many tires as possible in it. Thanks Helga.

Next step: slip some lengths of plastic pipe under the coop, push it off the back of the trailer until the front end lifts entirely off the ground.

Then you just look at it. Coulter (in the background), came along to help with the delivery / installation. I couldn't have done it without him.

With the coop resting on the ground, we were able to pry the trailer out from under it a couple inches at a time.

In case you were wondering just how skinny those jeans were.

Getting there. The fence actually went up the way I had hoped, which was -don't tell anyone- a little surprising, given my track record for things not going the way I hoped they would.

I wish I had done some detail shots. That latch "locks", the bottom pin pokes through the bar and into the door, locking it in place. You pull the pin out to lift up the latch.

This feels right.

Keeping it old-timey, serendipitously. I had forgotten to pick up fluorescent orange or pink mason's twine for setting up the fence, so we used this roll of jute twin I had in the truck.

Cool, right?

It was dark, way past dark by he time we finished up. Coulter started talking about various all-you-can-eat dinner buffet options around 3:00 pm. We tried so hard to finish in time for a celebratory Chinese buffet outing on the ride home, but the only thing open by the time we left was Waffle House. You can probably figure that one out.

Up next, a playhouse. Stay tuned.

-F.W.