Our last full day at our place in the Rockies was intense. Not only was the building going full bore, but the Bobcat showed up to backfill around the foundation and bring the apron around the cabin up to a level that would preclude the need for deck railings. Michael, the earthmover, showed up with reinforcements, his three springer spaniels. Along with Brian's dog Happy, they had a good old time playing around, and on, the equipment.
Brian and his son Brett, home from his freshman year at college and working with his dad over the summer, were busy building the rear second floor gable wall and prepping a temporary platform to build the front counterpart and the trusses. Last discussions about what size windows where were made easier by the fact that we could actually walk up the stairs and see what the best views would be from the loft. We were quite aware that by the time we'd return in mid-July the project would be far along and with a roof on, and we'd be able to actually see the whole shape of the cabin.
The Rocky Mountains saw us off with a bang. After three weeks with zero rain we'd gone to bed in our snug trailer boudoir with the hopeful flickering of distant lightning. Maybe it would come our way and we wouldn't leave without having had at least one decent rainstorm. Well, be careful what you wish for. Around midnight the thunder woke us, and judging by the increasing volume, we were going to get our wish. Except that our wish got a bit garbled. We wanted rain, and we got ice, ice in the form of gumball-sized hail.
Good-sized hail pounding ferociously on a metal trailer makes you feel like you are inside a gigantic popcorn popper. The noise was assaulting. Our dog scrunched along the narrow floor space along my side of the bed, terrified. At one point I heard a crack that sounded like it was inside the trailer. After a few minutes the storm moved on, and we got up to assess the situation. The vent over the foot of the bed had been holed and rain was dribbling in onto our comforter. Outside the ground what white with hail. We blocked the vent and threw a towel over the wet spot, calmed down the dog, and tried not to think about what the pummeling might have done to our car. In the morning we had no power and it was 40 degrees inside the trailer, and out. We decided it might be time to head home in our slightly dimpled car. We'll come back when there's more hands on work for us and when the precip is more likely to be in a liquid form!
Brian and his son Brett, home from his freshman year at college and working with his dad over the summer, were busy building the rear second floor gable wall and prepping a temporary platform to build the front counterpart and the trusses. Last discussions about what size windows where were made easier by the fact that we could actually walk up the stairs and see what the best views would be from the loft. We were quite aware that by the time we'd return in mid-July the project would be far along and with a roof on, and we'd be able to actually see the whole shape of the cabin.
The Rocky Mountains saw us off with a bang. After three weeks with zero rain we'd gone to bed in our snug trailer boudoir with the hopeful flickering of distant lightning. Maybe it would come our way and we wouldn't leave without having had at least one decent rainstorm. Well, be careful what you wish for. Around midnight the thunder woke us, and judging by the increasing volume, we were going to get our wish. Except that our wish got a bit garbled. We wanted rain, and we got ice, ice in the form of gumball-sized hail. 
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