Hang Onto Your Hats
We want this account to be honest. In addition to creating this blog to record our history we hope it will give people who are considering building their own home more information to help them decide whether or not it is for them. Well to be frank, today was a harrowing experience with near disasters.
Matt and I had nerves so we decided to drive out ahead of our scheduled pour time which was a good thing because we arrived right on the tail of an early concrete truck. My Dad had spotted the concrete truck on the highway from his house and my parents, who had originally planned to shop in the city over an hours drive away, pulled up right behind us.
After setting the chute near the first form the concrete was flowing and we were throwing in the field stones. Then as the first wood form was almost filled the concrete man recommended we tap the sides with a rubber mallet. Rather than run to get one out of the van I looked down at the rock at my side and gave the side a solid tap with it. The corner of the form opposite burst open and concrete came oozing out. Thinking fast my Dad grabbed ratchet straps from his truck and he and Matt began securing three of them fast around the middle of the form, putting a picket in the corner to keep more concrete from leaking out.
Matt said my childish mistake was “almost inspired” and likely saved the whole day because it gave us the information that we needed to strengthen the others with ratchet straps before filling them. Luckily my Dad had a ton of them so he and my Mom could secure all the forms. Matt’s sure if we hadn’t had that experience on the first pour that one of the piers would have exploded altogether and been a goner.
Even with ratchets one of the last ones started to pull apart at the seam a bit. And wouldn’t you know, my Dad had just pulled up in his truck again, to bring a couple rods for a pillar that had only been part filled before the concrete truck had to go back for another load, in time to rescue another pillar.
Matt had calculated the cubic meters of concrete we needed to within the amount of a small wheelbarrow. We used as many rocks as we could in the last forms to be sure we had enough. After the last pour Matt joked, “There’s still some left.” With the air of an amused adult surveying two precocious kids the concrete man replied with emphasis, “Not much.”
Unless our boys decide to build their own home in the future there probably won’t ever be a next time for us but if we were to do it again we would consider:
using 3/4” plywood instead of 5/8”, although this would make the forms quite a bit heavier and harder to maneuver
brace all of the forms with 2x4s around the perimeter
making the forms smaller so the plywood forms are more rigid (the 2’ square forms we used were way over engineered but we were after the look of thick columns)
At the end of the day Harland said dreamily, “That was fun on the farm today.” The boys were completely unconcerned even as they saw the first form split. Every time I glanced up during the day there were sweet pastoral scenes of the boys raking hay, loading it into the wheelbarrow to make a belly flop pile, chasing mice, or blowing seeds from the cattails they’d found along the edge of a dried pond. After a day of tense muscles, elevated heart rate, and an adrenaline flooded body I almost pointed out how my experience of the day was different, but instead simply stated, “It was a day of miracles.”
