Rainbow Scenery

It's a long weekend here in Quebec.  The first statutory holiday of summer - Saint-Jean-Baptiste - is observed on June 24.  Our next statutory holiday is next Friday when we observe Canada Day on July 1.  A lot of people take the week between the two holidays off, because if you trade-in 4 vacation days, you can pull off 10 consecutive days off.  That's a good deal no matter how you look at it.

What's unfortunate is that it's been raining off-and-on for the past 2 days, and is supposed to continue that way for the next week or so.  We've known the long-term forecast to lie, though, so there's always hope.  It seems the forecast at Environment Canada is updated radically from one hour to the next.  The radar is the only thing that doesn't lie, and we're getting good at figuring out just how much time we have until the next downpour.

Our corn, planted in the field behind the barn, likes the rain, but corn also likes hot days.  It's 21C today, which can hardly be considered hot.  But it's growing, and I guess that's the main thing.

Again, progress outside is touch-and-go.  More projects, more lawn mowing, more clean-up.  It all depends on the weather.

What doesn't depend on the weather is drywall.  Eric's got another room, his office this time, drywalled, spackled and primed.  Way to go, bay-bee:

I know that photo doesn't give you much reference.  Believe me though, that it used to look like this:

...and like this:

...and like this:

...and like this:

...and like this:

...and if one more, ONE MORE, person asks why we didn't sub the drywall out, I swear on Cooper's head that I will have a screaming fit that will send me to the loony bin for a protracted stay.

Taping and mudding and sanding, (and mudding and sanding, and mudding and sanding) drywall is...how can I put this delicately? It is the least of our worries, when you consider what we've accomplished based on the above.

It's like going to a restaurant, ordering dessert, and when it's put in front of you, you give it to the dude at the next table.

It's dessert!

More Before and After, minus the Before

In my haste, I neglected to take a "before" picture, but you'll have to trust me when I ask you to imagine a thick, impenetrable wall of weeds filling the frame.  I went through here, armed with a pruning saw and clippers, like a whirling dervish on crack.  Think of "Taz" the Tasmanian devil from our childhood cartoons, armed with an imaginary Leatherman super-tool complete with gardening implements, and you're on the right track.   I had burdock so high in here, with stems so thick, that I needed a saw to cut them down.  Both Bobcat and Popina loved to play in here, (note the past tense) because it was like a jungle gym.  Popina, being the high maintenance diva she is, would shoot out of here like a furry little rocket covered in burrs.  She served as impetus for getting this area cleaned up once and for all.

Picture if you will, two large crates built out of 2x4's that served to transport the metal roof we had installed on the house in 2003.  They were slowly rotting away here, again preventing us from running the mower through, or going rogue with the whipper-snipper in a feeble attempt at order.   Years ago, when I suggested taking the crates apart, Eric chided me and said the wood was still good and that he needed it for some future project.  I don't need to tell you that opportunity never materialized.  I should have trusted my instinct and taken the crates apart while the wood was still good for something other than a bonfire.

This is now useable space, and allows us to store our recycling and garbage bins in an accessible, yet out-of-view area.  It's not that my prissy, aesthetic sensibilities are coming to the forefront, but a bit of discretion (and organization) never hurts.  There's enough crap hanging around that one less eyesore is welcome.  I don't care if the out-buildings are ramshackle; the grounds can still be tidy.  Some days I feel like I'm slamming my head against a rock, but every bit of improvement helps.

I was actually so excited when this area was cleaned up, I got up early the next morning and tip-toed outside in my bathrobe.  It wasn't a mirage - it was really clean! 

My motto has become "a place for everything, and everything in it's place".  And if I can run the mower through or over it, all the better.

The Firepit

Part of cleaning up a old farm property involves strategically placed burn piles.  (I say "strategic" with the most facetious air possible).  They are blights on the landscape, however, in most cases they are necessary evils when trying to clean up over-run grounds.  I would give my right arm to own a branch chipper.  Well, put like that, I might lose my right arm if I owned a branch chipper, so maybe we're better of with burn piles than machinery.

Invariably, excuses for not burning the piles stack up like the branches and twigs that fill them:  it's either too hot, or too cold, too windy, or blowing in the wrong direction, too dry to burn safely, or too wet to bother.  Creative Procrastination 101 rules here.

We've got three burn piles, and one of them was so overgrown, there were Manitoba maples growing around the edges that were starting to get a bit out of hand.  We took it to task this spring, and although we still have to scrape the remnants of the pile together with the backhoe, it's not out of control any more.  We should be able to completely eradicate it with a bit of effort by the end of the summer.  I'll breathe a sigh of relief when I see grass growing on this spot instead of weeds.

Believe me when I say nothing good can become of a pile of old bricks, a crisp, starry night and good intentions, all underwritten by wine:

That's how we came to create this lovely fire pit, unfortunately situated right when you turn into our driveway.  We strive to make good first impressions!    Driven partly by practicality, the fire pit was close enough to the house so we could keep an eye on it, yet far enough away from outbuildings to pose a fire-risk.  We always had the hose nearby, and burned only when conditions were right, which was never too often.

We had some old red bricks piled up against the wood shed, and we'd never use them to make a path, for instance, but they served admirably as the border for the fire pit.  With time, weeds encroached, and our fire pit became a blight.  The other day, I'd had enough.  It was time to bring in the front loader:

Surprisingly, I ended up with a front-loader full of bricks that Eric could dump at the municipal dump the next morning.  When Eric called me at work to tell me they no longer accept bricks, I wanted to wig-out, big-time.  The thought of having to off-load this pile of !@#$ onto a skid for tidy storage makes me cringe.  I want to get rid of this junk, not store it!  I wish our conscience could let us bury them somewhere on the far reaches of the property, but we can't do that.  So many injustices have been done to these grounds over the decades, that something like burying waste material would keep us tossing and turning at night.  We've removed tons and tons of buried concrete already, so we don't want to add to the misery.

 

Because we've burned a lot of old, unpainted wood in this pile, it's full of metal hinges, screws, and Eric's nemesis: the nail.  With tractor tires costing the equivalent of a mortgage payment, we like to take the extra time and pick out any nails.  An ounce of prevention, (or gram, in our case)...is worth a pound, (or kilo), of cure.   (One of those is a better deal, but I'll let you figure it out for yourself).

Using an old mesh screen, I started to sift the well-rotted ashes into the wheelbarrow.  Next concern was where to actually dump said wheelbarrow.  We've decided to spread it onto a small, newly plowed field on the south side of our barn.  I was hoping Eric would return with an empty front-loader, of course, because screening the ashes would be so much easier directly into the front loader, as opposed to the wheelbarrow, but that didn't pan out like we planned, did it now?

So, we've put our feelers out for someone, anyone, who'd like to come pick-up a these lovely, lovely red bricks and find a permanent vocation for them.

And the next time someone accuses us of being a few bricks short of a full load, I can prove them otherwise.

Before and After - The Outdoor Version

We have so many messes to clean up outside, and this is the year I'm hoping to tackle most of these eyesores.  It's hard to appreciate in the above photo, but had I not taken out the thistles and burdock growing in this area, they would have reached the top of the frame by the time July rolled around.  This tumble-down 2x4 structure, complete with shredded plastic that flaps crazily in the wind, formed some semblance of chicken coop in times of yore.  Overrun with weeds and one impossible-to-kill Manitoba maple, this area was hard to keep clean because of the wooden 2x4 structure that formed the base.  You can't even tell it's there, as weeds and grass have already covered it, but it prevented me from being able to run the mower through.

I've been meaning to take my biggest crowbar and tear the structure down, and on Sunday morning I had my chance.  The weather was a bit overcast and the temperature was just right.  Despite the fact the mosquitoes were out in droves, I armed myself with my trusty Dewalt saw, a hammer, a crowbar, some pliers, and went to town.

We've been using the old chicken coop on the right-hand side as a repository for some "bad" firewood we wanted to segregate from our "good" firewood we keep in the woodshed which stands to the left.  This "bad wood" is not really bad; it's just our vernacular for wood that's not the greatest for heating in the dead of winter, but good enough to take the chill off some of the colder evenings we've had this spring.  The stump serves as a chopping block, and I'm not sure if Eric still needs to chop more of our bad wood, so I left it there as a courtesy.  I really should have rolled it into the chicken coop, but I'll get around to that when I seed this area later.

I couldn't be more excited to have this eye-sore cleaned up.  I don't care if it's not super-mega landscaped perfection.  My goal isn't to make the cover page of Martha Stewart's Living magazine.  It's clean, OK?  There are no more man-eating killer weeds in here, and that's what counts.  

Believe it or not, it took me the better part of the day to dismantle everything, pry out all the nails, cut everything to wood-stove size, and remove all the weeds.  There are 2 big rocks partly buried in here.  They're sticking out just far enough to take a chink out of my lawnmower blades, so I've asked Eric to remove them with the backhoe.  He's reluctant to do this, because he thinks they're HUGE, but my reasoning is we won't know until we start to dig.  Maybe they're puny and a few shovelfuls of earth will fill the remaining hole?  Anyhow, we can put it on the bottom of the honey-do list. Same goes for removing the Manitoba maple stump - the dang thing keeps making suckers, and it's going to take a lot of tough-love to discourage its growth without resorting to chemical warfare.  I'll keep my clippers handy and stay on top of it this summer.  With enough abuse, it'll give up.  Later this week, I'll grab my landscaping rake, sow some grass seed, and pray to the sod gods for quick germination and good ground cover.  We still need to pull the metal stake out which must've been rammed about 3 feet into the ground.  Eric said he'd use a chain and the backhoe to remove it, but I think with one good rain, I'll be able to wiggle it free.

Eventually we'll need to tear down both sheds, but right now each serve their purpose as storage, and each gives us grandfather rights to rebuild them.  We're not quite sure which form our new garage/shed will take, but one thing is sure, it won't be small.  I've got a laundry list as long as my arm, considering we don't have a basement, attic or attached garage in our house.  Our new garage will have room for all of our wood-storage, our cars, maybe even the tractor, and hopefully a little loft.  I need to mention room for our drill press, because I'd love to get it out of the living room, and a decent workbench, because what we've kludged in the woodshed is not cutting it right now.  This is why we have a lumber-yard in our living room, and I know I'd love to regain control of our living space over the next decade without tripping over tools and projects, wood or otherwise.

I'd love to get some chickens.  And some mini goats and a donkey and some alpacas and a pair of draft horses.

And then I want a little green house, and a swimming pool and a water garden.  Not necessarily in that order.

Although my wants are long, my needs are little.  I've got all I need already.

But daydreaming about these projects while swinging a crowbar is what keeps me sane and motivated.  It's one nugget of wisdom I've learned over the years.  Doesn't cost anything - this overly active imagination - as my father would say.

That and the fact a drill press can be transformed into a Christmas tree with enough garland and lights.  I've learned that, too.

Kitchen Before and After

Many older French-Canadian farmhouses have a separate little addition to the side of the main house.  We call this the "summer kitchen" because this is the room where workers would have been fed while working the fields, thus avoiding dirtying the entire house with their clothing and footwear.  It could also be closed off during winter months so there was one less room to heat.

We're not quite sure what came first - the proverbial chicken or egg problem - was our kitchen the first part of the house to be built, or was it added on at a later date?  It is reasonable to assume that an entire family could have lived in the kitchen and the upstairs room in days of yore, and then built the larger, main part of the house as things settled.  Remember, we're talking in the vicinity of 1850 here.  Land needed to be cleared and planted, trees needed to be cut and milled.  Rocks were needed for the foundations, probably accumulated as the fields were plowed.  We're reasonably sure there was a wood stove in the kitchen at some point in time, as well as a staircase that went upstairs, so the summer kitchen could have served as a stand-alone building.

Based on the amount of time Eric spent fixing the foundation, he believes the summer kitchen was added on at a later date, possibly as the original homeowners became more prosperous.  It's a feasible theory, certainly.  We know that our house had 2 kitchens, one located in the living room that was gutted, and one in the kitchen we now use.  Previous owners had begun extensive renovations, and the kitchen was the first thing on their agenda.  Had the kitchen not been finished, Eric would have really been tempted to bulldoze the house to the ground and rebuild from scratch, but the first steps had been done...

Here's how the kitchen looked when Eric bought the house:

In retrospect, had I had the opportunity to redo the kitchen, I would have done many things differently.  But some things you choose, and some you don't, and the kitchen falls into the latter category.  The cabinets, floor and all appliances were spanking new, so we played the hand we were dealt.

It's not such a bad hand:

Life could be a lot worse.  I love my kitchen.

(Did I mention I love my kitchen?)

I love the colour of the walls.  Sico's Chinese Lantern, number 4081-61.  That was Eric's doing.  I have the number memorized because I've repeated it to visitors so many times.  I even keep spare paint chips in the drawer below the wall-oven to dole out.  It's going on 8 or 9 years since we painted and I still love it.  In fact, when we have to repaint, we'll probably opt for something along the same lines.  It's nice in the morning when the sun comes up through the picture window I've dubbed my wide-screen TV.  It's a nice contrast in the summer when everything's green outside.  It's nice in the winter when the snow blows, because we need all the warmth and colour we can get at that time of year.  It's nice when we have our candle chandelier over the dining table lit.  I can't say enough nice things about this colour.

One thing that I would love to change is the stainless cook top. Stainless is a pain to keep clean, and those coils?  What's up with those coils?  Maybe I've been spoiled by Ceran cook tops for the past 20 years or so, but really?  When the pot of pasta boils over (and it will...) you're stuck removing the element and drip pan to clean up the mess.  It's just not my idea of practical.  We've priced new cook tops.  What I liked rang up to nearly $3,000. Ouch.  Can't justify that expense.  I always joke the first thing I would do if I won the lottery is rip the cook top out and put it at the street so someone can pick it up.

Since there are windows on three sides of the kitchen and thus ample light, I'd have put in a semi-gloss wood floor, rather than a high-gloss wood floor.  With 3 cats and one dog and muddy paws, every little speck of dirt shows.  Again, if I won the lottery?  Heated tile!  Granite counter tops!  More hanging cupboards! A butcher block island!  A gas cook top!  A bay window with a farm sink centered!  Oh my, my needs are many, aren't they?  Just let a girl dream a bit, dammit!   

Now, for a blast from the past, here's a look at what remained of the "other" kitchen in what is now our living room:

See the plumbing on the left-hand wall?  There was a counter with a sink and shelving here.  I have no clue where the fridge or stove was, and it's not really like it was a planned kitchen anyhow, just something that developed over the years as people introduced electric stoves and fridges and "all of them new-fangled modern thangs" into their lives.  The wood stove was also probably a cook stove at some point in time, but the only wood stove we knew was the one above.  We called him Wilfred. We were afraid Wilfred was going to burn the house down one day, so Wilfred was replaced by a high-efficiency EPA-certified wood stove manufactured in Austria by a company called Rika.  We bought Rika's Esprit model, and we're very happy with it.

Basically, finishing the kitchen was easy.  A bit of molding, some new lights, some paint, and the job was done.  We still need to change out all the windows, but they've still got a bit of life left in them yet.

That wasn't too hard now, was it?

Some "During" Photos

Looking at the "before and after" photos, nostalgia has struck, so I have to throw in a few "during" photos, just to give you a bit of the "OMG-what-the-hell-are-we-doing?" vibe that shows how we got from point A to point B.  I'm even super-sizing the photos, just because I can.

 This is how things looked when Eric gutted the downstairs. 

Here we are early on, during the phase of our lives we've come to know as "The Knotty Pine Purge".  We're not quite out of those woods yet.  No more knotty pine to tear down, but finishing work?  Oh yes!  Lots of finishing work remains to be done.  The house is toasty warm though.  That helps.

See the tar paper?  Well, the siding of our house is right behind it.  And no, the hole wasn't small.

Eric's gone rogue with the reciprocating saw, cleaning up the rotten boards so he can repair them.  What you're looking at is the structure of our house, not just some paneling.

Ah, yes.  One of my many contributions.  Many fond hours spent working in this corner.  Eric was busy rebuilding in one corner, and yours truly was busy in another, tearing down moldy drywall, tar paper, and finding one load-bearing beam that had turned to sawdust. It was a new low for us.

Upstairs after all divisions had been torn down.  Note the furniture we're (regretfully) working around, notice the plumbing that we've tripped over endless times, and the 5 gallon pail that held the nails we'd pulled out of the wood during the renovations.  Said and done, that bucket weighed about 100 pounds by the time it went to the metal recyclers.

Are we ready for the insane asylum yet?  Are the men with "I-love-me" jackets walking up the drive?  If this doesn't strike fear in the most hard-core renovator's heart, I don't know what will.

That we lived like this for months on end is unbelievable to me.  Everything is rebuilt, insulated, and even though the final finishing isn't quite done yet upstairs, it's nice to know we'll never have to deal with dirt, dust and debris the likes of the above again.

More than one person came upstairs during the "purge" and declared we're living something worthy of a reality-TV show.  So, there you have it folks: an intimate, behind-the-scenes look, the stuff they don't show you on TV, Shim Farm-style.

More Before and After Pics

The renovation of the master bedroom was started by previous owners.  Here's a look at things then:

If you double-click the photo, you'll be able to see the water stains on the drywall from a leaky window.  Note the poorly done drywall joints.  Note the unfinished super-soft pine floor.

It was Eric who got down on hands and knees and sanded that bloody floor to infinity and beyond.  We then painstakingly filled each and every gap using a latex-based silicone.  We then white-washed the floor using a white latex paint and wiped off each board before it was dry.  Then, drum roll please, Eric did what Eric does best:  he varnished the floor, and that's where my story begins.

Eric's used a lot of varnish in his day, and his technique is the best.  He's picky, detail-oriented, and takes his time.  Good varnish can't be rushed, and you have to be willing to wet-sand between coats using at least a 600-grit sand paper.  To say that Eric knew what he was doing by the time he reached this Waterloo is an understatement.  The first coat went on like a charm.  We didn't have our menagerie at this point, because I am sure that today, with one ever-shedding dog and 3 cats in various stages of moult, we'd never be able to lay claim to a manoeuver of this magnitude again.  Eric donned his Tyvek suit complete with an elasticized hood and went to town.  To say this floor was a thing of beauty was an understatement.  The first two coats when down without a hitch.  We ran out of varnish on the third coat, and I was sent out to get another gallon.  What happened next cannot be believed.  The paint company even sent out a representative to check out our claims.

Eric cracked open a new gallon of varnish, and painstakingly applying the third and final coat.  Now imagine Eric's surprise when, all of a sudden, right before his eyes, the varnish started to form what are called "fish eyes" in the industry.  Don't worry - you're not alone - we weren't aware of this phenomenon either. Fish eyes are crater-like impressions that form on the varnish, and solving our problem became somewhat of a challenge to the manufacturer.

A representative came to our house to inspect the damage.  Much head-scratching ensued, because every type of varnish, be it semi-gloss, or high gloss, would form fish eyes.  After laboratory analysis, it was deemed that the first gallon of paint was a "one of".  Had we had enough of it, we could have varnished the entire floor and been blissfully unaware of any problems.  Alas, the company concluded that our original varnish was compatible only with itself, and they were unable to supply us with the same incorrect formulation, because they weren't quite sure what had gone wrong in the first place.  In the end, one particular batch of semi-gloss varnish was okay, and Eric laboriously set out to sand down the fish-eyes and apply one final coat.

In the end, we had a beautifully finished floor.  Pine, being a soft wood, is notoriously easy to dent or scratch, hence my use of the past tense.  What Cooper's claws have done to the finish, well...let's not go there.

For Eric's trouble, the paint manufacturer threw in a few gallons of paint to finish the bedroom.  That was nice of them.  Considering Eric lost about a weeks' worth of sleep, it was the least they could do.

We changed all the windows (except those in the kitchen) with new Argon-filled thermal pane windows with PVC frames.  To do it all again, I think we'd look at triple-pane windows sans-Argon.  Argon will leak - it's not a matter of if, but when.

Having a room with angled walls presents a few challenges.  The first of those would be the lack of any proper hanging storage space.  The second is finding furniture that is low enough to fit into the knee walls.  We lucked out at IKEA, finding what we needed from their Stolmen line.  We also need to mention that we occasionally run into the walls, but you've probably figured that one out already.  It would account for at least part of our insanity.

The above photo also shows the Velux GPL-model ("hinged room window" in Velux-ese) that Eric added, to a) give us more light, and b) give us a bit more headroom. We love this window!  We added the optional screen, as well as the roll-down shade that blocks out 100% light, and yet another optional UV-screen that covers the sunlight from the outside during summertime.  You can still see out, but it filters the light to prevent fading in the room, as well as lengthen the life-span of the window, given this is a south-side exposure.  The window flips inside-out for easy cleaning.  Had we known how much we'd enjoy this Velux, we would have added more.

It's nice to open it up, and feel as though you're standing outside.  It also gives up opportunity to take photos such as this:

It's sort of like having your personal little turret from which you can survey your domain.

(If you're into that sort of thing, that is.)

More Before and After Photos

Obviously, the photos in the post below tell but part of the tale when Eric gutted the downstairs in 2001.

What you don't see is the magnitude of bad.  Can we all say "condemned", boys and girls?

Nothing says "Home Sweet Home" like crime-scene carpeting!  The inside division that held the door to the room above had separated from the floor, and when the door was shut, the entire wall swung to-and-fro.  The above room was used as a bedroom and didn't even have a window.  That's too claustrophobic for me to entertain, so I'll move right along.

And do you think someone would have the fortitude of mind to put down the toilet seat before taking this photo?  The floor here was so rotted after Eric tore out the tub and toilet (which I actually Comet-ized before putting out to the road, and yes, someone picked it up), Eric ended up replacing a good part of the floorboards in the blue room in the "after" photo below.

Here's a photo of the repair-in-progress:

Essentially, the tub and toilet were located in the furthest corner of the "after" photo below, which also happens to be the northwest corner of the house.  I can only imagine how cold that old cast-iron bathtub was in the dead of winter.

Here's a view once the pink bead-board (shown in my earlier post) was torn down.  Eric rebuilt all of the outside walls using 2"x3" studs, insulated using fibreglass pink insulation and used polyethylene sheeting as a vapour barrier.  The main structure of the house is comprised of 3"x12" Eastern Hemlock beams that are joined by tongue-and-grooves horizontally.  The inside of the house was clad in vertical boards, many of which had rotted over the years, hence the repairs above. Note the old newspapers, which date from January 1899, most probably used to cut the wind.   Since our house dates from the 1850's, and the newspapers from nearly 50 years later, they were probably glued to the walls during one of the many renovation attempts over the past 160-odd years.

I state the obvious when I say the above is the "after" photo!  Even with plywood floors (which have their benefit, more on that later), the downstairs living room is comfortable and inviting.  The "blue room" is the stereo room.  We don't have a TV, but we do enjoy music, so this is where we spend a lot of time.  The french door leads to the utility room, where we keep our washer and dryer, and where the hot water tank is located.  There is another french door mirroring this one on the opposite end of the sofa which leads to the bathroom.

You can also see the ceiling a bit better in the above photo.  Eric added every second ceiling joist.  Walking upstairs was so spongy, previous owners were scared to put any furniture up there.  Given the fact the upstairs was virtually uninhabitable 4 months of the year because of the fierce cold, they were on to something, and from a structural stand-point, they were rightfully cautious.  The house was far from being up to code, and structurally unsound to boot.  The ceiling joists are 2.5" x 7", and in doubling them up, the finished structure now has them spaced every 20" instead of 40".  Eric added sound attenuation batting (Roxul Safe'n'Sound) between the joists, and finished everything up with 5/8" fire-code drywall, but not before sanding and varnishing each and every one of the joists to a shine you can see yourself in.  Eric has a way with varnish.  Friends joke he can work as a piano varnisher if his day job doesn't work out!

As for my plywood floors: well, with renovations still underway upstairs, we'd rather deal with plywood downstairs than finished floors.  It's relatively easy maintenance, save for the odd pet accident (Schatzie, I'm lookin' at you, girlfriend!), yet even the most offending stains can be readily sanded out.  It's washable, scrubbable and affords me the option of keeping my cleaning standards enviably low.  As long as everything is organized, I can deal with the dust buffalo, as I affectionately call the wafts of dog and cat hair that abound...

Before and After Photos

I haven't shown any before and after photos of our renovations downstairs because all the photos before the tear-down were lost in a hard-drive crash way back in 2001.  That was the year Eric took possession of the farm.

Imagine his surprise when he went to the bank recently, and the account manager pulled out a file of photos the building inspector took in times of yore.

Lookit what we found!

Before:

...drum roll, please:

And after!

I am giving you the Reader's Digest sanitized version of the renovations.  What I have neglected to show is tearing down all the bead-board, rebuilding the exterior wall and re-insulating, rewiring, replacing rotten floorboards, tearing down the drywall on the ceiling, adding every second ceiling joist for structural support, replacing the windows and and and...ad nauseum.

I'll be scanning in our photo album later which contains sordid photos of how the above came to transpire.

All 8,734 steps of the way...give or take a few details.