They said you was hung
Oct. 7th, 2020 20:09![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
torquillToday I re-hung the back porch door at last.
It went almost like clockwork; I've hung enough doors by now to remember that I needed shims for the bottom, and to line up the top first so all I had to do was shuffle the bottom around until it was in place. Then the real test: shutting it. I swung it closed, the stiff lower hinge protesting a little, until finally... click. It latched! It fit! I expected it would, but it's still a big boost when you've rebuilt a door.
I should say it "latched". I had to remove the strike plate and reposition it so that it really lines up; now the door won't pop loose by itself. But the strike plate screws were in terrible shape anyway, so...
I washed the inner side of the door glass, attached the handle (I bought another "shower safety handle", those things are awesome for handling glass) and brought it out. A quick trip around the lip of the door with the caulk gun full of window glazing, and the glass settled right into place. Then I realized that I had the jar of glazing points -- old school, just little metal triangles! -- but the putty knife was out of reach... the glazing goop held the glass in place so I could snatch the putty knife and set four points. Putting the trim strips in to hold the glass was more of a pain (I haaaaate nails) but I got it done, and there's a nice bead of glazing all around to keep the rain from creeping between the glass and the wood. All I need now is to give the trim its second coat of paint, to help seal it to the glass, and wash the other side of the window. Trivia.
The white indoors side of that door is now the brightest, squarest, most immaculate thing on the property. It's unnatural.
I have to say, I do know how to drive nails, but as soon as I have the opportunity I will ditch them for an air compressor and brad nailer so fast you'll see gale-force winds. I have a staple gun now (on sale at Hazard Fraught!) so I'm halfway there, but with all the trim I need to do around here, a brad nailer is essential.
I had hoped to come home from town this afternoon and do some burning -- we have the old moldy china cabinet from the Shippen which delaminated and isn't really good for anything, and a couple of nice fairly-dry brush piles, and it's after October 1... but the burn ban sign is still up, and when I called the burn hotline earlier, they said it had been extended until at least the 15th. With the haze we could see as we came home, I can't blame them. At least I bought a tarp to throw over the piles of fuel.
We spotted Other twice today, once as we left, and once as we came back.
Which reminds me, yesterday I was out putting the last coat on the door in the driveway, and I heard a rustle in the brush pile under the apple tree. I looked over and saw a furry face, and thought "Oh here we go -- I've been hearing about nutria in the south valley, now we have one!" It was about the size of a smallish rabbit. As I watched it work its way across the front of the shed and toward the hillside, though, I realized it didn't have a long ratlike tail... it had a little bob, like a bear or a rabbit.
When I talked to Jenny, she said we have several burrows belonging to sewellel, or mountain beavers. She's never seen one in all the years she's been here, but it may be accustomed to not having humans outside much these days, and there haven't been dogs here for years. It might have been using the brush pile as cover to snatch a fallen apple or two, or to harvest grass to line its burrow for the winter. Apparently they eat a lot of ferns, and we certainly have plenty of those in the woods. I can see its burrows on the hillside next to the driveway, and I'd always wondered what they were, since there are no rabbits here. I guess now I know.
From what I gather, I have joined a pretty elite group. There are lifelong natives of the PNW who think mountain beavers (or "boomers") are a myth, and even researchers see them only a few times outside of their traps. Lucky me.
I wonder whether the barred owl is still calling on the north slope. Jenny guessed that one, too... it has a call like "who cooks for you, who cooks for y'all" which is very distinctive. They're big and eat everything (thus shouldering the northern spotted owl out of its territory), and I hope it doesn't mean trouble for the poultry in the evenings.
It went almost like clockwork; I've hung enough doors by now to remember that I needed shims for the bottom, and to line up the top first so all I had to do was shuffle the bottom around until it was in place. Then the real test: shutting it. I swung it closed, the stiff lower hinge protesting a little, until finally... click. It latched! It fit! I expected it would, but it's still a big boost when you've rebuilt a door.
I should say it "latched". I had to remove the strike plate and reposition it so that it really lines up; now the door won't pop loose by itself. But the strike plate screws were in terrible shape anyway, so...
I washed the inner side of the door glass, attached the handle (I bought another "shower safety handle", those things are awesome for handling glass) and brought it out. A quick trip around the lip of the door with the caulk gun full of window glazing, and the glass settled right into place. Then I realized that I had the jar of glazing points -- old school, just little metal triangles! -- but the putty knife was out of reach... the glazing goop held the glass in place so I could snatch the putty knife and set four points. Putting the trim strips in to hold the glass was more of a pain (I haaaaate nails) but I got it done, and there's a nice bead of glazing all around to keep the rain from creeping between the glass and the wood. All I need now is to give the trim its second coat of paint, to help seal it to the glass, and wash the other side of the window. Trivia.
The white indoors side of that door is now the brightest, squarest, most immaculate thing on the property. It's unnatural.
I have to say, I do know how to drive nails, but as soon as I have the opportunity I will ditch them for an air compressor and brad nailer so fast you'll see gale-force winds. I have a staple gun now (on sale at Hazard Fraught!) so I'm halfway there, but with all the trim I need to do around here, a brad nailer is essential.
I had hoped to come home from town this afternoon and do some burning -- we have the old moldy china cabinet from the Shippen which delaminated and isn't really good for anything, and a couple of nice fairly-dry brush piles, and it's after October 1... but the burn ban sign is still up, and when I called the burn hotline earlier, they said it had been extended until at least the 15th. With the haze we could see as we came home, I can't blame them. At least I bought a tarp to throw over the piles of fuel.
We spotted Other twice today, once as we left, and once as we came back.
Which reminds me, yesterday I was out putting the last coat on the door in the driveway, and I heard a rustle in the brush pile under the apple tree. I looked over and saw a furry face, and thought "Oh here we go -- I've been hearing about nutria in the south valley, now we have one!" It was about the size of a smallish rabbit. As I watched it work its way across the front of the shed and toward the hillside, though, I realized it didn't have a long ratlike tail... it had a little bob, like a bear or a rabbit.
When I talked to Jenny, she said we have several burrows belonging to sewellel, or mountain beavers. She's never seen one in all the years she's been here, but it may be accustomed to not having humans outside much these days, and there haven't been dogs here for years. It might have been using the brush pile as cover to snatch a fallen apple or two, or to harvest grass to line its burrow for the winter. Apparently they eat a lot of ferns, and we certainly have plenty of those in the woods. I can see its burrows on the hillside next to the driveway, and I'd always wondered what they were, since there are no rabbits here. I guess now I know.
From what I gather, I have joined a pretty elite group. There are lifelong natives of the PNW who think mountain beavers (or "boomers") are a myth, and even researchers see them only a few times outside of their traps. Lucky me.
I wonder whether the barred owl is still calling on the north slope. Jenny guessed that one, too... it has a call like "who cooks for you, who cooks for y'all" which is very distinctive. They're big and eat everything (thus shouldering the northern spotted owl out of its territory), and I hope it doesn't mean trouble for the poultry in the evenings.
