We’re building a house. Did you know that?
Because our current house is falling into the river. No joke.
Andy is milling all the logs himself. And then he’s going to build it. And then we’re going to live in it. And it’s going to be that easy. Right?
Today, our friend Lucien came over to help Andy run the sawmill. He took this rad time-lapse video of Andy sawing one of the logs.
I am amazed that perhaps, someday, eventually, hopefully, those logs will become a house. For us. A house that isn’t sliding into the river. A house that will welcome many guests, with walls that will hear many stories and songs and outbursts of laughter.
Instead of Jack, this will be the house that Schmidt built. Complete with hound and rooster and cat. But, in this house, Andy will wear Carhartts and his tattered, old sweatshirt with the Richard Brautigan patch. And, instead of a high-waisted dress, I’ll be wearing the same gray sweater I wear every day and the only pair of jeans I own. There will be no red-flowered hat on my head because I have dreadlocks and can’t get any hats to fit on my head as a result. Sparrow & Caleb, hand in hand, will not look prim or proper but will be wearing something stained. Because everything they own is stained. Because I’m really bad at laundry.
And, in The House That Schmidt Built, the rat won’t eat the malt, as the poem goes. Because we don’t keep malt around (who does??) and because we don’t have rats this far north. We’ve got mice, though. And pigs that get out of their pen, ransacking the neighborhood and scaring the horses. We’ve got water pipes that freeze. And banjos made out of cookie tins. And a deer carcass nailed to our tree to keep all the woodpeckers and chickadees fed over the winter.
In short, we’ve got shenanigans. Shenanigans crazy enough to write a nursery rhyme about. Hmmm…I think I’ll do that. Stay tuned.
In the meantime, stop by and visit. Help Andy mill a log. And later, help us raise some walls. Come be a part of the shenanigans. If you’re lucky, you just might find yourself in a verse of The House the Schmidt Built.