For the whole summer, I've spent part of every week (and most days) doing this. Foundation preparation. I would lean on my shovel, and stab my foot down on top of my shovel, and hit rocks, and fantasize about the day I could start building something.
Slowly, it grew.
Slowly, I was able to set the 4x4 corner posts in concrete, two feet deep. I measured and remeasured, and spent a lot of time on a tippy ladder cutting the vinyl away from the garage.
Then I started putting up the header. Big heavy 2x6 pressure-treated pieces.
Then suddenly, one day I went out and was able to build a wall! I laid out the salvaged windows I'd been waiting to use all summer, and framed around them, and screwed everything together. By some miracle, it was square. By some miracle, it was level, too.
After spending all summer digging into rocky, compacted clay, this week I have been dancing framing-jigs. This week I have been rewarded. This week I have been smiling.
I built another wall yesterday morning. I put in the door I found on the curb, two houses up, the door I tucked under my arm and carried home, in April, and have been waiting to put into service for months.
The next thing is gravel. By the end of the weekend, I should have that in place, and be ready to move ahead with the third and final wall before diving into the great scary unknown of actually putting a roof on the darn thing. I have a carpentry book on loan from my dad. I have a pile of rafters. I have no idea what I'm doing, but I am smiling anyway.
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