From The Ground Up (Tara Taylor Quinn)

We're at it again - my honey and I. We're adding on to the house. Sort of. We're adding on to the garage - building what he calls a barn and I call a one room house without plumbing. It's 13x16 square feet - or probably will be close to that. One never knows for sure! Or at least I don't. And it will have a large, covered porch for a swing and our wicker furniture.

I've roofed, shingled. I've remodeled a bathroom, laid tile, laid wood floor, built a solid block wall, finished off a garage, built a table, and now I'm ready for the real thing - starting from scratch. So far, the hardest part has been squaring off the space that will, hopefully by the weekend, become a room. That took hours. We're adding the room on at the end of the garage and the garage is not straight! It's a weirdly angled thing that, in its original form 70 years ago was a carport. Over the years and with various owners it was added on to, a workroom here, a wall there, and it became this thing that is much wider in front than it is in back. We're adding on to the back. But for 'curb appeal' and general aesthetics, we kind of need to follow the lines of the house with this new room. Except that the lines are angled. Even I know that trying to build and roof an angled room would not be an easy task.

So, after we cut down the tree that was in the middle of our new room - and made firewood out of it - we roped off, measured, staked, measured, moved stakes, tautened ropes, measured some more, stood and stared, for a long time on Sunday. The end result was a compromise that seems to work.

On Monday we tilled. Some of you might remember our little cottage sits on the top of a wooded hill. The land that is going to hold our room is not flat. But it has to be before we can lay our foundation. A tiller is a wonderful thing. I worked it once. I could do it if I had to. I'd be whip lashed, but I could do it. Ours is a one man hand held thing with dangerous spikes that make mincemeat of all it touches. Unfortunately, it doesn't come with a removal basket, or vacuum, or...anything. It makes mincemeat and leaves it there. I can work a chainsaw, a table saw, a compound miter saw, various drills and guns, a tractor - but I've never actually shoveled before. On Monday, I shoveled. A lot. And told my husband that I'd never wanted to be a farmer, still didn't. His reply - digging is good for the soul.

Ah Ha. My life lesson. Digging is good for the soul. The deeper you dig, the more treasures you find - things you've buried, good and bad, that are there to serve you. To teach you. To help you on your journey through this lifetime. To help you progress and grow and move closer to ultimate joy and happiness.

So I dug. A lot. I unburied an old cement thing with metal fingers protruding from it. An old light post we think - from when the garage was a car port. Together my soul mate and I filled our dump bin on the back of the tractor. Several times. I'd drive it down the path mowed through our trees to the wood pile down the hill at the back of our property. (Well, Taylor and I drove it down. That girl insists on being a part of everything - of running every show.) We'd dump, hoe, and then back up the hill to the tilled land and more shoveling. I'd love so much to say we ended up with a level plot of land. But we have about ten more loads to go before that miracle takes place, my husband guesses. That's tonight. But I'm okay with that. I'm with him. Working side by side with him. Building a barn. A room. A life. Building dreams. Digging deeper. Finding the peace that has been so elusive most of my life. Finding acceptance.

And miracles and magic, too. There are some ugly things in the dirt. Bugs and slugs and things I'd rather not have to deal with. But I find that when I tackle them, rather than avoid them, they're fairly easy to manage. And there are some treasures. Evidence of life lived long ago. Roots. We're sweating. We're talking. We're laughing and listening to music.

A structure might appear - by the weekend my optimistic partner thinks - but as far as I'm concerned, this project isn't about the end result. The true benefit isn't going to be a barn or a structure or a room to store our treasures. We're getting the true benefit right now. At the very beginning, when all we have is rope and stakes and dirt. And each other. And dreams.

"If you build it, they will come." We're building! And our family is emerging. We had a gathering, a cook out, and a fire in the fire pit earlier this summer. Members of our family were there, talking and sharing until after midnight. It was a wonderful evening. And someday, we're going to be sitting out on our porch, made by our own hands, with a fire, and each other, laughing while our three beautiful girls regale us, and each other, with tales of their adventures as they venture forth and tackle the lives we helped give them.

Because we're making a barn this week.

What about you? What are you building?