Rain Farmer



The weather was, well you know -wet. I left the studio for the bus at 4 pm. I got home at 5 pm. I jumped in the van and hit traffic on Ocean Parkway, but still made it before 6 pm. Above, Solidago sempervirens at Jamaica Bay's edge.

I only had so much time. Why was I so committed to planting mesclun mixes, radishes, and arugula in the rain anyway? Because of the letter from Ranger Thaddeus T. that says we must cease gardening on November first. November first? C'mon. Well, my protest is performance, because I well knew that was the end date. Is it silly? Yes. The best way to get good gardeners into these plots is to get a site manager that actually understands gardening. They could then change that silly date to December fifteen.

The garden managers have a never realized dream of tilling the whole acre under every year at season's close. I'm not fond of that idea, but reality is that no one's moving there hardscaping anyhow. They also want to shut off the water -that's the biggest concern, drain the pipes before a good hard freeze. Fine, I say, turn the water off, but let us keep going with the kale, broccoli, and greens. It's usually wet and cool enough to get by without watering at that time of year.

So there's the push to rush those greens seeds in, even though it meant getting soaked in the dim light of an October evening. I planted rather hastily, with crooked rows, and uneven seeding. I was more concerned with the big footprints I was seeing in all my empty patches -the places I seeded cilantro, parsley, and spinach. One really needs fences. Only a knowledgeable gardener suspects a bare patch is planted with seeds at such a late date in a warm season garden gone dismal. But then, why tromp through a garden at all, why not follow the trenches? It's better not to ask.

The old broccoli patch now seeded with different mesclun mixes and arugula.

The bell peppers are having a hard time turning red with all the rain and cool weather.

The collards are beginning to look fantastic without all the 'pillar holes.

Today's semi-ripe tomato haul. There's still another four dozen or so on the vines. Every tomato that rests on the ground has the buckeye rot. If it remains in the air, it has no buckeye rot. Next year -all tomatoes will be off the ground. FYI -the net isn't my attempt at decorating the shoot, although I know you're thinking how fabulous it looks. In fact, it's window screening I had in the van and made a convenient way to carry the tomatoes back home.

Elsewhere around the Ft. Tilden Community Garden:

One of the new gardeners that came in with us has planted Kale, and it's looking good.

My favorite farmer has reaped his amaranth and tackled his corn. This man operates like a real farmer, with two or three seasons of different produce. He planted his corn and amaranth around August one. Before that it was beans. Do you remember this?


Tomato Bag



This is the tomato bag. It's filled with the ripe, near ripe, and maybe in several days ripe. We pick when we get to the farm, maybe once a week, grabbing at anything with a slightest blush of pale orange. I say 'we,' but Betsy chides me for breaking my "when ripe" rule. But then, we know there are opportunistic pickers, we know the ground is wet and cool, and we know that there's only so much time.

Into the brown paper bag with the apple. Yes, some of you know it, some do not: the apple produces ethylene gas as it ripens, which hastens the ripening of other fruits. Apples are very high producers of ethylene, while tomatoes are low producers that are highly susceptible to the natural gas. Wa-La. Riper tomatoes faster. If you want your tomatoes to ripen slower, keep them away from other fruit, and out in the open.



Seafood "..."


I made this last night and I thought it came out pretty good for, as we used to say, just winging it. Half pound of shrimp, full pound of sea scallops, the rest is vegetable, spices, xvoo, and chardonnay. One fennel bulb, one long red pepper, one onion, some carrot, some broccoli, a tomato, some cherry tomatoes, some parsley, much garlic -all chopped, tossed in the pan with xvoo. Then the white wine, and spices (sage, oregano, thyme, pepper, salt, what else?). The seafood and some butter. Cook it up and spoon it over some brown rice.


Beach Farm Broccoli

Upon arrival at the beach farm this morning, I had to make a decision. Should I pull the broccoli to make room for greens? The plants were putting out some seriously nice looking side shoots -like the one above, where new, larger florets would grow.

Since the floral meristem (what we call broccoli) had been cut off a few weeks back, the downward flow of the hormone auxin has ceased to limit the growth of side shoots. The prostrate stem above, then, is able to put out a series of new leading stems, all of which would produce broccoli florets.

But there are other problems. King Cabbageworm is back.

And Lord Whitefly remains.

So I pulled the whole lot of them.

Happily discovering that journeyman earthworms have come to work for us.

What remains is the one broccoli plant that has not had its leader cut. With no nylon on hand, I used window screening to keep out the cabbage moths -it's a little silly looking. In fact, the plan was to protect the whole patch with a fabric cover, but when we arrived on Sept. 5th, the broccoli was ready to pick and completely without cabbage worms -this despite worms being present just two weeks earlier.

Which leads me to this:
Can I plant broccoli next year in a way that takes advantage of the hole created by the life cycle of the cabbage moth? The worm-eaten leaves have little affect on the growth of the plant -we simply don't want them and their turds in our broccoli florets. What if the cabbage moths breed on a rather regular schedule? Can I plant broccoli so that its florets develop completely in the 3 or 4 weeks without cabbage worms? After all, that appears to be what we chanced upon this year. From late August to mid-late September there were no cabbage worms on the broccoli. Last week, none. This week, some. If this hole can be exploited, I can grow broccoli without much concern for the green buggers. Now, weather, location, and other factors surely come into play. But I like the idea, I like outsmarting the critters -isn't that what our big brains are good for anyhow?


If You Do, Make It Look Like An Accident


This evening I spent two minutes in the garden. Snipping some herbs for dinner, a little deadheading. I noticed, a bit late, that someone had clipped the flowering tops of my large solidago. A nice, clean cut -on the bias. Fool me little, or just try -break the stems, leave a ball in the garden, I don't know -a branch? Something. I wouldn't normally care, neighbors clip all the time -but usually those with many flowers.

Two weeks ago I wrapped the corner and I startled a woman caught in the act of snipping flowers off my neighbor's plants. The grin was one of shame, but she couldn't break herself away from the act. She finished picking that last one before moving on. Desire.


Rain Memory


Today the sun shone gloriously, the sky bright blue, and the cool air not joking around -it means it this time. But did we all forget the rains of this week, the two mornings we were woken by the heavy drops blopping on the sill? Well we may have, but the plants remember.

Heavy rains have flattened my perennial sunflowers. Too bad, this year was the first year I pruned them just right, so that they remained mid-height and intermingled with the stiffer-stemmed, blue asters. The heavy rains weigh them down, the cells in each stem responding rapidly to the change -prostrate now, must turn up towards sun! It seems that in less than 24 hours the new form has been solidified. I call this rain memory.

The rains also flattened the weaker varieties of aster with nothing to lean on. It's a bit sad -sort of plant equivalent of a frown.

Aster 'alma potschke' has only begun to flower and is well tangled with other plants.

Speaking of sad, Eupatorium coelestinum looks like it's having the worst of hair days. Ratty.

And what of cosmos and ironweed and bluestem solidago? Maybe the tornado came through here too. The mildew on the zinnia and the not dead-headed enough cosmos conspire to blech.

On the upside, all these rains have pleased Aconitum. Yes, it's the earliest I've seen this specimen bloom, and it doesn't seem to mind the rain one bit. Probably thankful it received some water, lighter rains never making it through the yew tree it lies beneath.

Herbs, one month ago all frizzled and fried, now feeling stronger, enjoying the days of rains.


Evening


The day was rainy, mostly cloudy. At six or so I noticed the warm color reflected in the windows across the street. I headed to the unoccupied west side studio.


Signaling that it was much later than I had thought, I left for the bus home.
I love my new studio. I also love that all these buildings are still working places. I love seeing some lights still on at 7 pm, people working, figuring it out, being productive. It's one reason to love the city -working late never feels like it does in the countryside or the suburbs. When you do leave, there's always enough activity on the street to make you feel like you haven't missed the party. I enjoy making art in a working neighborhood. I cringe at the thought of it ever turning to residential.


A Walk In The Woods


Word was the woods were filled with Indian Pipe, Monotropa uniflora, in exuberant quantities, unlike never before. I headed out -on and off the trail. From the trail, I observed a little patch here, a little there. It was only when I went off-trail that I saw how extensive the slopes were covered with the myco-heterotrophic, chlorophyll-free flowering plant. I just discovered this plant for myself last year in Forest Park, so I have little sense of how unusual such a large population is.

But Rex, having been a woodsman all his life, assured me that he has never seen so much Indian Pipe in any of his woods. This patch was right beside his trail, the oak leaves piled high from a recent oak death above the spot.

Rex, who keeps his trails open to his neighbors, excitedly put up a sign identifying the mysterious plant for neighborhood walkers. I was excited to see his sign, I love signs -tell me more.



This is Hogpeanut, Amphicarpaea bracteata, swamping an area of the woods where a few large trees came down and let in some sunlight. I thought it was a weed, possibly invasive. Instead, it's native to eastern woods, edible, fixing nitrogen in the freshly sunlit soil, and probably is invasive to any garden given half the chance.

Indian pipe, caring not for photosynthesis, crops up even under the hogpeanut.

Adjacent, in the clearing, new oaks grow on the fallen.

And asters.

This clearing, towards the western boundary, is wet, causing much of the trees to fall over in storms. This maintains the clearing, allowing the sun lovers to grow.

Upslope and westerly, the woods abruptly ends at a fence line. Here, goldenrod.

Standing at the edge of the woods, looking northwest, we stare into the top edge of the gravel pit -so called because it was actually an active gravel excavation pit in the past. On the slope into the woods, piles of glacially rounded stones, and some chunks of concrete remain from those active days. Now the pit is covered with birch trees, some cedar, a very different plant community than just 100 feet to the east. No water stands in the pit, it seeps straight into the greater area aquifer.

Walking along this trail, on the northern boundary, we enter a valley with sloped sides.

The recent heavy rains unleashed a torrent down the northern slope. It's hard to make out, but a cleft in the slope, center top, is where the torrent ripped through purely black soil, washing this light gray clay onto the valley floor. It swamped everything in its path. Rex says it will kill the trees growing here. The cleft has been growing every year and there is no will to try to slow the water down that pours through here during heavy rains. There is no humus, no undergrowth to slow the moving water. This is a glacial landscape in flux, hills filling basins.

The red dot you may have noticed in the previous photo was a cluster of berries, the fruit of Jack-in-the-pulpit, Arisaema triphyllum.

First they are green.

Then mixed, finishing up red. These seem to be the only plants that grow in the deep shade under the maples.

Rex is always clearing the fallen twigs and timber, making piles he promises one day to burn.

There are about 8 piles now, all taller than me.

The southern exposure, which faces the large wetland, is occupied by an army of Buckthorn, Rhamnus cathartica. Can I make the greatest claim for invasive species management? That is a whole understory of buckthorn is really boring to explore. All green, all the time and nothing else.

I don't remember what these berries were attached to.

The occasional woodland sunflower.

The occasional woodland ladybug.

The occasional marble. I always find marbles when I am gardening.



A Walk In The Woods


Word was the woods were filled with Indian Pipe, Monotropa uniflora, in exuberant quantities, unlike never before. I headed out -on and off the trail. From the trail, I observed a little patch here, a little there. It was only when I went off-trail that I saw how extensive the slopes were covered with the myco-heterotrophic, chlorophyll-free flowering plant. I just discovered this plant for myself last year in Forest Park, so I have little sense of how unusual such a large population is.

But Rex, having been a woodsman all his life, assured me that he has never seen so much Indian Pipe in any of his woods. This patch was right beside his trail, the oak leaves piled high from a recent oak death above the spot.

Rex, who keeps his trails open to his neighbors, excitedly put up a sign identifying the mysterious plant for neighborhood walkers. I was excited to see his sign, I love signs -tell me more.



This is Hogpeanut, Amphicarpaea bracteata, swamping an area of the woods where a few large trees came down and let in some sunlight. I thought it was a weed, possibly invasive. Instead, it's native to eastern woods, edible, fixing nitrogen in the freshly sunlit soil, and probably is invasive to any garden given half the chance.

Indian pipe, caring not for photosynthesis, crops up even under the hogpeanut.

Adjacent, in the clearing, new oaks grow on the fallen.

And asters.

This clearing, towards the western boundary, is wet, causing much of the trees to fall over in storms. This maintains the clearing, allowing the sun lovers to grow.

Upslope and westerly, the woods abruptly ends at a fence line. Here, goldenrod.

Standing at the edge of the woods, looking northwest, we stare into the top edge of the gravel pit -so called because it was actually an active gravel excavation pit in the past. On the slope into the woods, piles of glacially rounded stones, and some chunks of concrete remain from those active days. Now the pit is covered with birch trees, some cedar, a very different plant community than just 100 feet to the east. No water stands in the pit, it seeps straight into the greater area aquifer.

Walking along this trail, on the northern boundary, we enter a valley with sloped sides.

The recent heavy rains unleashed a torrent down the northern slope. It's hard to make out, but a cleft in the slope, center top, is where the torrent ripped through purely black soil, washing this light gray clay onto the valley floor. It swamped everything in its path. Rex says it will kill the trees growing here. The cleft has been growing every year and there is no will to try to slow the water down that pours through here during heavy rains. There is no humus, no undergrowth to slow the moving water. This is a glacial landscape in flux, hills filling basins.

The red dot you may have noticed in the previous photo was a cluster of berries, the fruit of Jack-in-the-pulpit, Arisaema triphyllum.

First they are green.

Then mixed, finishing up red. These seem to be the only plants that grow in the deep shade under the maples.

Rex is always clearing the fallen twigs and timber, making piles he promises one day to burn.

There are about 8 piles now, all taller than me.

The southern exposure, which faces the large wetland, is occupied by an army of Buckthorn, Rhamnus cathartica. Can I make the greatest claim for invasive species management? That is a whole understory of buckthorn is really boring to explore. All green, all the time and nothing else.

I don't remember what these berries were attached to.

The occasional woodland sunflower.

The occasional woodland ladybug.

The occasional marble. I always find marbles when I am gardening.



Beach Farm: Week 8



This is celery, apparently more difficult to grow than other vegetables. Constant moisture is one need. Another is moderate temps and a long season. Also, a sleeve needs to go over it so that its stalks look like those in the bag at the grocery -light colored and erect.

On the celery -this guy. Ah, go ahead, who want the leaves anyhow.

Broccoli has given up all its main florets. Now its side shoot season.

I was impressed to see such large shoots growing from under the soil.

Siamese tomato?

Speaking of tomatoes...they look like sh*t. Once they hit the ground, hello blight.

Speaking of disease, I think bean anthracnose infected one or two plants. That said, we harvested more healthy beans than we know what to do with from about 8 plants.

Our Swiss chard never did well and I pulled some out. While pulling, I discovered some grubs.

I think 'Buckeye Rot.' Close contact with soil, green tomato, warm and wet days. Only one specimen.

The harvest. Those over-sized cherry tomatoes are coming on strong. I was waiting for the cubanelle peppers to turn color, but instead they turned to rot -so I picked em green. Hungarian wax to the far left and a bunch of ichiban eggplants. The hot hot peppers are just now beginning to turn, forget the cukes -two little boogers. Yellow wax and Roma beans by the dozens. Bell peppers should be ready next week, but the cooling temps and heavy rains are putting the damper on the hot weather produce.

However, I did get some seeds in on Sunday morning. Snap peas under the cuke trellis, spinach, parsley, and cilantro where the green beans had been. Next weekend I put in the different salad greens and maybe some radishes. All the rains have been just what was ordered for those newly planted seeds.


Beach Farm Allergy



These are the leaves of Common Ragweed, Ambrosia artemisiifolia, a widely dispersed North American native. Notice the deeply cut leaf with rounded edges. Click on any of these images for a more detailed look.

Above Common Ragweed's rounded, deeply lobed leaves are its flowering spikes. Notice how each individual flower appears green, is well spaced, and tends to hang down. Ragweed is wind pollinated, indicated in part by its drooping flowers. Wind blows, rustles ragweed, out falls the lightweight pollen, into the breeze, your nose, then sneeze. Below an illustration of its form.

USDA-NRCS PLANTS Database / USDA NRCS. Wetland flora: Field office illustrated guide to plant species. USDA Natural Resources Conservation Service.

There are a few plants that could be mistaken for the allergy causing plant. I photographed some in our community garden at Ft. Tilden, where they all grow in masses along plots and fence lines.

These are the deeply cut leaves of Mugwort, Artemisia vulgaris. Notice the pointy leaf tips and hairy stems.

These are the flowers of Mugwort, whitish/yellowish with a tinge of red. The flowers form in compound racemes, or panicles -branched clusters of flowering stems. It blooms alongside Common Ragweed in the late summer and fall.

These are the leaves and flowers of Lamb's Quarters, Chenopodium album. Notice how the lower leaves are spade-shaped and toothed. On large plants you'll find the upper leaves to be lance-shaped, or lanceolate, and smooth-edged.

These are the cymose, densely-branched, white and green flowers on a large specimen of Lamb's Quarters. It also blooms alongside Common Ragweed.

This is Seaside Goldenrod, Solidago sempervirens. It is one of a hundred types of Goldenrod that also bloom at the same time as Common Ragweed. Its flowers are bright yellow and face upwards -an indicator that this plant requires flying insects to pollinate it. Goldenrod's pollen is sticky, and does not blow in the wind.

It also does not cause hayfever. I have been hounded by allergies every time I go to harvest at the beach farm. The breezes of the ocean blow Common Ragweed's pollen, which is everywhere around us, right up the nose. I suffer for a day after, then diminishes. Ragweed is one of those barely noticeable green things that has for so long gone unidentifiable by most people. I hope this helps.

Batali's Green Tomato Spaghetti


The question was what to do with all those green tomatoes. The answer: Mario's green tomato spaghetti.

What I had: mint, basil, parsley, garlic, green tomatoes.
What I didn't have: parmigiano, arugula. Trip to Golden Farms -baby arugula, perfect. Uh, no, not that parmigiano. Oh well, use the pecorino Romano I have in the fridge.

The 5 green tomatoes, 1/4 cup of mint, basil, and parsley and two small cloves garlic thrown into the mini-processor and chop chop, grind grind. Salt, pepper (he says generously). The red bits were from a semi-ripened tomato.

Cook ye spaghetti. Toss the whole mess into the hot pasta with a 1/4 cup of XV OO.

Plate er up and grate some cheese. The fruity-nutty flavor of parmigiano would have been better than the salty kick of pecorino Romano on this dish. Why don't I have any in my fridge?



Field Guide To Frank's



The helianthus hopper.

I love this little guy, Christmas ball green.

But so does this guy. When we say eyes in the back of his head, we mean him.

Expecting mother in the latest cosmos colors.

"mlom, mlom, mlom, mlom. I hate when you watch me eat."

Really, I mean it.




Art Project: Chapter 2.5




This is the horse run -named for that possible prior use back in olden days. The horse run served up several new problems, the least of which was its dirt floor. Remember how the rubble foundation was crying whenever it rained? That was partly because all the rain falling on the neighbor's concrete back yard flowed into this space.

This is the new central beam in the basement, located directly beneath the main hall walls on the first and second floor. We supported the new beam with pole jacks until permanent columns could be installed. Whatever played a supporting role in the past had long since been removed. However, there was a flimsy partition wall towards the back 50% of the basement.

Which could explain why the joists in front of that location were sagging nearly 2 inches more than those behind. What does this beam have to do with the horse run you ask? Good question. In the end, not much, but we were trying to tackle all the structural sagging at the same time.

The western foundation wall lies not at the boundary of the home, but set in about four feet. The horse run and what else above occupies this 4 feet. Above the horse run is an unused space running the length of the home and above that, on the 2nd floor, is the stairwell, a closet, part of the bath and another closet. The home's western wall, then, extends from roof to ground where it met a brick knee-wall, a quasi-foundation. That knee wall had long ago crumbled and we were loath to replace it. The years of unsupported weight caused the western wall to sag, and it needed some kind of support. Fortunately, the joists that connected the western wall to the rest of the house were mortised in and only four feet long -as opposed to running the width of the house. So it was that the western wall sag didn't take the rest of the house with it.

In conference with the owner, we decided to simply arrest the sagging, not jack the wall back to its original location. In order to avoid digging four feet down the length of the house, major form work, and ordering yards of concrete, I devised a series of concrete piers and treated lumber header-type beams that would support the western wall.

Sorry, no photos of the formwork, but plenty of the results. This is the concrete pier, about 12 inches across, and 8 or 9 inches deep. We needed to be mindful of both building on the neighbor's property and skinned shins in the horse run, necessitating thinner, rectangular, piers. They, of course, extend well into the ground, on a footing, over a gravel bed. Galvanized tabs were inserted to connect the beam to the pier.

As soon as the piers were complete, we dug out the horse run floor, which was a heavy yellow clay (that I later fired in a kiln!), and poured a new concrete floor. That sopping wet clay was holding water and sending it through the rubble foundation. I graded the new floor to send the water out to the street. Then, I threw a mason line along the stud wall to mark the line were the top of the new treated beam would be.

The studs and corner posts were cut to the height of the new treated beam.

The new treated beam was inserted, tabs nailed. The old studs were "sistered" with adhesive and nails, then toe nailed to the new beam.

In this photo, the finished work. Not so good looking, eh? I put it in because you can see the sag in the building at the top of the doorway. Every home owner wants a different set of results. By this time, my friend, the home owner, was hoping the structural repairs were coming to an end and, I think, he was happy to have me accept this compromise solution. What's a little sag after a hundred years anyway. At the very least, it wasn't going to sag anymore. Incidentally, that pile of wood in the back of the horse run is the pine flooring, "acclimating."


Pine flooring and sticks to facilitate air flow.


Coming next: The Kitchen


Horseradish?


I thought Marie had a recipe for beef with horseradish, but it was lamb with... Before I looked it up, I was at our local pantry and saw horseradish, and by God, they all looked like this! Really, this is what it looks like before it finds its way into a jar? Now, what do I do with this? Keep it clean.




It's amazing to me how shady the front garden is at 3 pm these days. What's funny is that I don't recall it being this shady, but then, there it is in pictures.

Today I was planning on hitting the beach farm, but yesterday changed all that and I must be at work. Grrr. I've got planting and planning to do, and harvesting too. So many seed packets sitting on my desk!

Saturday I am going up to Nyack, NY to look at a contracting job. Hopefully the last. I have been writing the story of my last big job -ha! when I was 34. After the first post I started to grow weary at the thought of writing out the full 8 months. Where was I going? Hmm.

In the studio on Monday, I came to some sudden awareness, you've felt this, an "ah-ha" to some, but really that sense of well being when you let something go that's been eating you up. And it's been eating me up.

There's something I want to do in the studio, something to a painting that's been languishing for too long, something exciting to me, the painter.

And then I thought, as I had for weeks, about the three contracting jobs slid toward me across the table. About the temptation to take them to ease the money problems that support the table which jobs like these so easily slide across. But the painting resonates, it moves across boundaries and time, it goes somewhere.





The Art Project: Chapter Two



Every homeowner believes ever so positively that their home is not in as bad shape as it often turns out to be. No one ever, ever wants to spend their money on structural repairs instead of new kitchen cabinets or a whirlpool bath. Structural repairs are not what dreams are made of, but they do support them. Remembering all too well what was ignored on the last job, I pushed to have the owners accept the inevitability of this work. Dollar signs rolling, sighs of resignation, yes, but there I was, eager to take these challenges on, interested in structure.

As I mentioned previously, the house had a rubble foundation, with a front and rear wall of brick mounted atop a rubble footing. At the rear of the house, a pit as deep as the basement was tall and about 4 feet wide. There was a door and a window opening to the pit from the basement, but the door had been sealed up with some wood framing long ago. The pit had a concrete staircase leading to the back yard.

Looking into the pit.

The old doorway and window leading to the pit.

The front brick wall had two caged windows and a steel door, no doubt necessary during Williamsburg's rougher days. A small staircase to the basement lie next to a brick wall, with the adjacent rubble foundation wall jutting out 10 or 12 inches at the 2nd to last step. The floor was concrete, but how thick was any one's guess. The fireplaces belonging to the two chimneys were located in the basement as well. Underneath the small kitchen extension at the rear of the house was a boiler room with gas furnace and hot water heater.

The staircase, brick and rubble foundation wall during re-pointing.

There had been an apartment built out in the basement. The loose partitions separating the living spaces had since been removed, but so had the central beam supporting the joists and walls above. The plumbing was jerry-built into the existing subfloor drain pipe, which was likely made of terra-cotta and probably broken. If I were to have had my druthers, I would have torn up that floor to replace the subfloor drain while I was working on the foundation. Three years later I was called back in to help with the replacement of that subfloor drain. It was, in fact, broken, leaking, backed-up.

My first task was to begin the process of re-pointing the foundation. I began in early June, doing the outside first so that I could wrap it up before it got too hot. I used a 4-inch grinder with a masonry disc to excavate any hard old mortar, although much of it had turned to sand. In the rear wall, the brick walls had de-laminated, so that the outer layers were pulling away from the inner course of bricks. Where necessary, I removed bricks and re-lay them with fresh mortar.

Rear brick wall coming apart.

So it is with old brick that you must make your own mortar! Older bricks are often softer bricks and modern mortars are fairly hard. Hard mortars shoved in between soft bricks can crack them. I used lime to soften my mix, using a recipe from a book in order to approximate an older, softer mortar.

The west facing rubble wall cried every time it rained. I needed to tackle that from the inside and outside (more on that in another post). The hardest part of re-pointing the rubble foundation was excavating the sand from the irregular gaps between the field stones and then replacing it satisfactorily with wet mortar. The challenge was greater towards the back where the wall was painted white and even more so behind the tangle of 4-inch waste pipes in the northwest corner of the basement.

Tangle of waste and gas pipes and worse -expandable foam.

I re-pointed the entire exterior of the foundation and parts of the interior -at which point I needed to move onto other problems. I hired a young guy that I worked with at the summer art program in Maine who thought he'd like to try construction work over kitchen work. I was hesitant, though softened by his earnest confidence, gave him a pointing trowel, and asked him to finish the interior. I needed to keep on him like a dog, which he disliked, especially when I popped out his "re-pointed" lines and told him to do it again, this time packing it in. Matt was always way smarter than his skill-set was capable, and learned to hate pointing real fast. I, on the other hand, felt satisfied knowing that this foundation was becoming sound. It was about this time that Ben, with whom I worked on the previous 4-story, came on board to help with the carpentry.

The rear wall after some re-pointing.

The back foundation wall had serious problems. Not only was it coming apart, it was leaning inward. We removed the window and the doorway framing, deciding then to tear out the brick wall to the left of the window and replace it with 2 x 8 treated lumber. Before we could tackle this, however, we needed to shore up the rear wall of the house. Two truck-sized hydraulic bottle jacks replaced the support of the demolished brick wall.

Two 10 ton hydraulic jacks, 1/2-inch steel plates, and 4x4 posts support the rear wall.

The view out of the basement into the pit. Where the door used to be, now a knee-wall of concrete.

In the image above you can see the inside of the basement, the cast iron waste pipes, and the wooden sill at the rear of the house. This sill had been partially replaced sometime in the past, made obvious by the newer dimensional lumber on the right.

The corner was well rotted.

The remaining sill was in pretty bad shape, having rotted away on the east side. It was clear that we should replace the whole sill, going ahead with a load-bearing header made of two glued and nailed pieces of 3 x 10 douglas fir.

The new sill and the mess above it.

Once the sill was installed, we could then frame out the back basement wall with treated lumber and plywood.

Next: Chapter 3, The Horse Run