It's a Tree! It's a House! It's a... Treehouse!

July 5, 2010. No, it's not, as rumored, the date Doc and Marty go forward to in Back to the Future II (That'd be October 21, 2015; we still have a few years to find out if we get hoverboards.) Around here, July 5, 2010 was Treehouse Day.

It was one of those ideas that was ready to happen. When Paul asked me my plans for the day off, I admitted the only thing I'd thought of was that it might be a good day to build the treehouse. Turns out that he was calling to suggest the same thing. I've been making plans and accumulating pieces for several years, but everything came together this time.

One of the remarkable things about this project was how little I spent on it. On the actual building day, my total came to $8.05, which included four medium-sized bolts and a chocolate bar I bought to appease Deborah. Nearly everything else was provided by one means or another: old shipping pallets from work, extra 2x4s from other projects, the ladder I'd built for our bed when Deborah was pregnant, and — perhaps most amazing of all — an entire pier's worth of heavy-duty treated lumber that washed ashore during the big flood of '09 which no one would claim, and no one would take away. We're talking twelve-foot 2x10s. The kids' wagon got a real workout that day, bringing that back. It's been sitting under my carport for more than a year, ready and waiting.

Laying out the pieces.

I've been planning this treehouse for a very long time, but when it came down to it, the pieces and the tree itself all pointed to something very different. I knew the general principles of how I wanted to build it, but the specifics suggested themselves as I went along: the width of the pallets, the angle of the branches, the height of the ladder, the amount of good wood on this board. The design I ended up with was much simpler than what I'd set out to create, but left plenty of room for expansion.

Good help is invaluable with a project like this.

I had the morning to myself, oddly enough — observed holiday or not, the kids still had swimming lessons, piano lessons, lunch, and nap time, which meant I had a chance to work on it without interruption until early evening. This was excellent, especially since the early stages involved a lot of shifting pieces around and staring off into the distance as I contemplated how things would work together! Paul showed up in the early afternoon, and that made things go much more smoothly. He confirmed my math, helped me thread pallets onto 2x4s, braced boards, measured, and asked his usual insightful questions.

When there's only one of you, you have to get a bit creative if you want to hold a board in place and screw it on. I wound up using a lot of clamps and straps until Paul showed up and lent me a hand.

A good treehouse design takes into account the fact that you are not just building a house, you are building it with a tree — a beautiful, amazing, living thing. Trees grow, and sway in the wind. They get sick if not cared for. They don't appreciate having their circulation cut off any more than you do. When it came down to it, I used the absolute minimum attachment points I could — three — made them rock-solid, and made them so that they could move and grow with the tree.

I used spacing blocks and a flexible design to leave the tree room to grow. I removed the blocks, and I can also back the bolt out later as the tree grows.

I blanched when it came to actually putting the bolts into the tree (these weren't tiny nail-holes!) but all the research I'd done said that this was the best way to maintain both the strength of the tree and the treehouse. I felt awful drilling into the solid walnut (a poem on the experience is here) but the tree had already started to heal by the time I ratcheted each bolt into place. You have to work quickly with healthy trees, as they start sealing themselves around the intrusion right away!

Implements of construction. I wish I'd stuck something in here for size reference; the bolts are about as thick as my fingers (and I have thick fingers!) and weigh nearly a pound each.

Getting everything to work together was an interesting challenge — I didn't have a good reference point to measure from, the terrain sloped a bit, and the trapezoidal frame was playing tricks with my eyes. I finally had to use my level at both ends of the main boards, and across the diagonals, until everything read out as level... and then hoped that nothing shifted while I was drilling the holes for the bolts!

Squaring things up. Golly, it doesn't look right at all...

...but the level says it's right on, all the way around. Trust your tools, trust your tools.

If Daddy can't play on it, can't nobody play on it. That's not selfishness, that's safety! Even with the temporary uprights held on by clamps, the cross-beams support me quite nicely. I jumped up and down on this thing before I let the kids come up!

Perhaps my proudest moment came when I finally had all the uprights in place. Paul and I had both done the math, and came up with the same answer as to where to cut the boards, but I was still apprehensive that we had left some value out of our calculations.... nope. Perfectly level. For someone who struggles with math as much as I do, this was a victory.

Putting on the finishing touches. The upper railing/table/bench came pre-carpeted — originally to protect a boat, but now to protect little ones.

I was screwing down the final boards when the kids came out, still a bit bleary-eyed from their naps, and bemused by the transformation that had happened in the back yard since they had last seen it. They climbed aboard in awe and wonder.

All this happened while we were napping?

OK, we'll let mommy up, too.

Paul had anticipated Treehouse Day well in advance, and had a present for the occasion waiting in his car. What does a tree fort lookout need? Why, a pair of binoculars, of course!

Close your eyes and hold out your hands....

I see you!
(This is my favorite picture of the day. Love the lighting and the expressions.)

The rest of the evening was clean-up. I still need to seal and stain some of the boards, but I'm not terribly worried about it. The nice thing about how I made it is that all the supports are treated wood; the flooring is completely (and easily) replaceable with a new set of pallets.

All this, and friends, too! Ava, from two doors down, became the first guest in the new treehouse.

So this is Stage I. There's more in the works — we need a pulley and basket, some windows, a hose-phone, and there's still that large crate lurking on my trailer, underneath a tarp, promising all kinds of potential. For now, though, it feels wonderful to have this up, and to hear the kids' excited voices. It makes so much work so very much worthwhile!

The Starting Block

Back in college, I was given a large block of balsa wood as a birthday present. I couldn't decide what to carve out out it, so I made a little sign that said "Potential" and set it on my desk where I could see it. I think the reminder did more for getting me through my classes than anything I could have made out of it.

In a Pine Car Derby, everyone gets either a wedge or a block of pine. You have to use it in your car; you can't substitute another piece of wood. You can add to it, you can subtract from it, but you have to use the block that came in your kit.

I put a fair amount of effort and creativity into Fiona's car, so it was a real treat to get to race day. A big part of the fun is getting to see what everyone else came up with. Given that everyone starts with virtually the same block of wood, the creativity is amazing.

Moooooooo. Come to think of it, this isn't all that unusual. I've seen a local limo with this theme, complete with fiberglass cow on top...

Wiiiiiiiiiii!

If it looks like that front wheel is floating in the air — it is. Having only three wheels on the track is apparently a common speed trick, and this fire engine definitely was speedy. Hmmm. Three wheels. I'm envisioning a motorcycle with sidecar for next year....

This is the car that won the races. The wheels are the standard wheels that come with the kit, but they've been turned on a lathe to get the lenticular shape, and polished with a molybdenum-graphite blend, which gives it a characteristic silver color.

Did I mention this was at church? In addition to the Golden Rule here, there was an entry named, "Faith, Hope, and Praise" which somehow reminds me of the buses in Latin America with Bible verses painted all over them.

One other observation on this golden rule(r): with weight placement being so crucial, it helps to have a design that has an obvious front and rear. Several such designs got run both ways down the track by unaware officials.

Coooool. I think the "engines" here are actually bullet tips. Weight and style!

Cheese Whiz!

Fast food. This meals-on-wheels entry got one of the top honors in the "Originality" category. It was fast, too!

Next up: Let's Go Racing!

Progression in Pine (Or, What I've been doing instead of blogging for the last two weeks)

Fiona's first-ever Pine Car Derby is tomorrow. That fact sunk in rather forcefully about two weeks ago — I have to build her car! So I went and retrieved the kit I had out in the shed: 1 block of pine, 2 axles, 4 wheels, 5 hubcaps, 1 sheet of vague instructions.

I've heard about dads who go all out with their kids' cars, and so I was very conscious about this being a Fiona-directed operation. I'm not quite comfortable turning her loose with a bandsaw just yet, so the heavy cutting and shaping stayed with me this year. But I still had to make what she wanted.

A: So, Fiona, what kind of car do you want?

F: A RACE car! I want it black, with yellow and orange and red flames all along it and a big gold number 6 on the sides and a big gold 6 on the back.

Okeydokey. A race car could mean just about any number of shapes, so I pulled up a keyboard and ran a few pictures past Fiona. This one was "cool!":

A '69 Corvette convertible. Riiiight. No pressure. 2 weeks...

You have to use the block that comes in the kit. The axle slots are in fixed spots, and the wheel s sit outside the block, so we needed to add more wood to get the right look.

The center block is what comes with the kit. I took advantage of the fact that I had to add to the sides by cutting out the shape of the seats now, rather than having to dig out the wood when the sides would be in the way.

Now, we need to shape the sides...

Fiona got her first experience with spray paint by putting on the primer.

A bit more shaping, a few more details, a little less finger. Ow.

A fresh coat of white primer, some blue painter's tape, and an X-acto knife.

A tricky transfer...

I almost stopped right here, because I thought this looked so cool. But I reminded myself that it's Not My Car, and went ahead to the next step...

...a nice coat of black metalflake paint. Once again, I was SO tempted to stop right there. It had such a nice "batmobile" vibe.

The masking tape made ghost flames. Cooooooool. But, it's Not My Car, so the tape had to come off.

Ready for the final details.

I coached Fiona on painting smooth edges and blending colors.

Purple seats? Well, OK.

I snuck in a few details, and fashioned a windshield out of a Juicy Juice bottle.

Fiona did a great job with those flames.

The finished product!

Tomorrow... race day!

I thought you'd never ask!

Once in a while, someone asks you to do the very thing that you want to do, to use that otherwise utterly useless skill in some amazing way... and you didn't even have to offer.

It was just such an evening. Fiona came over to me and held up an old pan that had been relegated to "toy" use. "Daddy, would you make me a wooden spoon? It needs to be about this long, and about this wide, and you can make it so it can scoop things."

Well.... yeah!

A piece of an old 2x4, the rasp of a bandsaw, the whir and flutter of the lathe, and the whine of a Dremel, and I had it:

OK, so it turned out more like an ice cream scoop than a spoon, but I like it. That was fun.

Now Deborah wants me to make her some spoons, too...

Opuses 1 through 3

Every weekend, I've been going out to the shed to try out this lathe, and these tools, and see if I can make them work together. So far, it has served to illustrate why I don't need to invest in any amazing, exotic wood yet. I have much to learn.

Opus #1: Wooden Knife

I started here, because it's one of the few lathe pieces I've seen made in person. The fellow just down the block at Whetstone Woodenware was doing a demonstration, popping out these wooden butter spreaders at the rate of one every few minutes, making it look oh-so-easy. It's not.

The wood kept popping out of the lathe, and the offset weight of the blade made the piece vibrate so much that I couldn't really get a good cut, and at one point the friction from the dead-center actually caused the piece to catch fire. Once I oiled the dead-center and removed some wood from the blade, lightening it, things were easier, but by that time, things had gone so far away from what I intended, that I gave up. I blunted the edge, and gave it to the kids to play with.

Opus #2: Candleholder

I've been fascinated with "natural edge" turning, and tried to pull that off with this made-from-a-log candlestick. A lot of things went well... and a lot didn't. The green wood cut like butter, but dried like sandpaper. I got a curve perfect, and then I'd catch the edge of the chisel and create an ugly gouge. In the end, though, I ended up pleasing Deborah immensely when I came in to get some candles to measure the size of the hole, and all we had left were these smaller Christmas candles... which we've never burned because we've never had a holder for them. Now we do.

Opus #3: Magic Wand

Ah, success. This is the first piece I've done that actually looks like what I set out to make.

Fortunately, I had to take off so much wood that I could make a lot of mistakes and figure out a number of things by the time I got things down to their intended size. Somewhere near the end, I realized that the whole lathe was vibrating, throwing off the cut. I stopped the lathe and added three 10-pound weightlifting plates to the top. Much smoother. Hmmm. I'll have to figure out a way to add more. I ended up taking off the last ⅛" with sandpaper, but the results were worth the time it took.

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* My apologies to James Spinti, former Latin teacher — I know the plural of opus is opera, but using that in the title would confuse people with a musical performance, or the browser software. I used the Anglicized version instead.

Feeling Toolish

My name is Andy, and I am a tool addict.

OK, that wasn't as hard as they make it out to be. They say it's the first step to recove... WAIT! Who said I wanted to recover? More tools, woohoo!

My latest addiction addition arrived yestarday afternoon in the form of a set of new lathe chisels. They are gorgeous. They are massive. (The bowl gouge is nearly two feet long.) They have their own carrying case. And, of course, they are tools: I didn't get them to look at them, I got them so that I could use them. (I have, of course, done this both ways: I've got a tool! Let's go find something to use it on! and, just as often, I've got a project! Let's go get a tool to use on it!)

I now have pretty much everything I need to start turning in earnest — including a patron! My co-worker ("like a Medici with less intrigue") has commissioned a matching set of peppermill, saltshaker, and coarse-salt bowl in some sort of exotic, pretty wood. She buys the wood and hardware, I get to do the turning. Not a bad deal, if you ask me.

I suppose I should find Deborah a book to read while I go disappear into the shed to try these out, eh?

To a man with a hammer...

...every problem looks like a nail. Guys with a lot of woodworking tools are similarly afflicted.

Paul brought me a challenge in the form of a digital camera with a broken battery door. The door would close, but it wouldn't stay that way, and all the little plastic tabs that would help with that were broken off. We looked into several methods of external bracing, but most of them (e.g., rubber bands) interfered with the operation of the rest of the camera. At one point I joked that I could build a bracket out of walnut that would hold the door shut, and Paul, trying to hide a smirk, said that I could do that if I wanted to. Wanted to? I had talked him into the solution that he wanted me to do, apparently. Sneaky.

The camera works now...

Yes! It LIVES! Bwahahahaha!

One of the last things I did in 2008 was to get my lathe running.

This wasn't just a matter of getting all the pieces to gether and making them fit — it involved cleaning about half the shed just so I would have a place to use the thing. I collected almost a decade's worth of wood scraps and gave them away to a family with a fireplace (I love Freecycle) and vacuumed up sawdust by the gallon. Ten years worth of junk wasn't pretty.

The lathe itself, despite the cobbled-together nature, came together very nicely.

Allan helped me a bit — electricity and I haven't always gotten along well.

You know how much stuff I had to clean to be able to get this in here?

Putting chisel to wood for the first time. What am I making? I... don't know, actually. But it was fun to do, very smooth, and nice to hold!

Now that I've got it running, I do realize one egregious oversight: I don't have any woodturning chisels! I got some practice in with a framing chisel, but there were many things about it that were less than ideal — like making a nice gentle curve with something that is inherently square. So now I need to sit down with the catalogs and find myself a good set of tools to use with my newest toy...