There's something about the warm weather that makes me feel like building. When I was a kid, about nine years old, I recognized that I wanted to be an architect when I grew up. A couple of years later, my family embarked upon a summertime labor which brought me close to that aspiration. In our back yard, starting in the summer when I was eleven, we built an addition that doubled the size of our house. My dad was a teacher, and had the summers off. He supervised us with incredible patience and care. The older siblings were all given a new pair of sneakers, a hammer and a nail apron. We started off the project with digging, shovel by shovel, the crawl space and foundation. The younger kids had a great time playing in the piles of dirt.
If I remember well, that phase took a month or two. I enjoyed the physical labor, and didn't hold much of a grudge on 'having to' work on the addition. We worked the morning until lunch, took a two hour break, and then worked some more through the afternoon. Any socializing or hanging out was done after dinner.
The addition was like a part of the family. Our cousin played a main role on the work crew, as well as various aunts and uncles. I remember when the trusses were delivered early one morning. We all stood there in our youth, commenting on how in the world we would get the largest ones up to the second floor, let alone nail them in. We were a motley crew, and we knew it. Somehow we knew that this great responsibility was really an honor.
So, as the summer rolls along, I aim to focus my skills and build something with wood, hammer and nails. Of course the kids will be asking, "Mom, can I help?"
