Barn Door

My brother, Roger, and I should be builders.

In fact, maybe I’ll hang a shingle out to make a little money on the side from construction.

Or not.

Roger and I have been building a sliding barn door for the west end of my barn.

Scottish rock masons built this 90 x 180-foot barn in the 1880s.

Evidence shows that it was straightened at least twice before I hired a team to prop it onto railroad ties a few years ago.

The west end used to have a 4-foot rock wall at the base, with boards for walls above that.

The rocks tipped over at some point and a section of the boards blew away.

My kids and I replaced the board walls a few years ago.

At the time, I suspected I didn’t build in enough cross support for that wall.

I was right.

I hate that.

Last winter, the howling wind blew the boards in, collapsing them as easily as the wolf blew down the second little pig’s wooden house.

The next big wind might lift the whole roof into the air.

I don’t have enough bricks to build a wall that will withstand the wolf’s wind, but I have an older brother who knows how to build things.

Roger always makes me build projects correctly instead of fast.

Sometimes, he drives me crazy because I have a million other jobs to finish.

Most of the time, I drive him crazy because he takes the time he needs to do the job right.

Last spring, he looked at the hole in my barn wall and suggested fixing it with a sliding door instead of a wall.

Roger had an ulterior motive behind his suggestion.

A few years ago, he helped me stack small square bales inside the barn.

The opening was too small to back a trailer into the barn so we packed each bale by hand.

I didn’t mind because I knew a bag of mini-Snickers bars would help me recover.

Apparently, Roger doesn’t enjoy Snickers as much as I do.

Last April, we mulled over a plan.

I had enough boards, redi-rod and nuts.

We wouldn’t need to buy much material.

We got started, but -- like most of my major projects -- lambing season and summer tasks interrupted our plan.

Finally, a few weeks ago, we both had time.

We set support posts.

We hung horizontal beams on the level so we could attach rails.

We removed hardware from an ancient, rotted barn door.

We drilled holes and tightened nuts to redi-rod.

Roger taught me the trick of jerking the nut so the redi-rod doesn’t spin while I tighten the nut.

Our biggest argument was whether to attach the railings to the support beams and then mount the beams or mount the beams first and then attach the railings.

I lobbied for mounting the railings first, mostly because I didn’t want to lean over 10 feet of airspace to wrench a lag bolt tight.

Roger wanted to be able to compensate if our support beams ended up sloping.

We installed two of the three railings before mounting the support beams.

I learned to overcome my deathly fear of heights and Roger worked hard to be sure our support beams were level.

Compromise protected family serenity.

This 10 x 15-foot door is stout.

My barn might eventually fall down, but this door will stand.

Roger could make money in construction, but I don’t like that idea.

Then he wouldn’t have time to help me.

This fall has been unseasonably warm, but the winds are gusting and snow is coming.

Let the snow fly.

I’m not a good builder, but I’m glad that I can finally close my barn door.