The masonry work on the milk barn is all complete, and the water line is connected and I can no longer avoid the inevitable. It is time to build the roof. Wood here is very expensive so economy is important. To put it into perspective, my days labor as a carpenter is worth about 3 2x4s 16 feet long. Not that I need the money, but thats roughly the value of skilled labor down here.
The milk barn is 25 feet long and 16 feet wide with a shed roof (only one slope) and was carefully planned out to maximize the the coverage of the 16 foot beams I can buy here. With my reference books screaming "You need 2x8 or at least 2x6 for that span" I carefully select the slender 2x4 stock 3 foot on center to spin my web.
With some help from Julio I get the main beams running the length of the building in place. I went all out and used 2x6s here because I was pretty sure I didnt want to find out what a 11 foot fall on concrete feels like. Following this i carefully hang each rafter and nail it in place.Now comes the fun part: Installing the nailing battons for the tin roof. In otherwords, this is the part where you go out onto the middle of a web of rather skinny looking beams and try to hammer nails. This is where I become spiderman, trying to keep one foot on one beam and the other one another (remember the 3 foot spacing?). The battons are nailed about 3 feet apart, so in the middle I am about 8 feet from the nearest support, 11 feet up, with the next nearest piece of wood 3 feet away. Each move has to slide from beam to beam (never on the 1x3 battons) evenly distributing weight so as not to put all my load on one beam. I suppose I could have used a ladder but you have seen my pictures of what a dominican ladder looks like already and I'll take my chances without one.
I have 3 more battons to install tomorrow and I will let someone else nail on the tin cause I am lazy. The sun was getting pretty hot up there even under my 2 foot straw hat (yes two whole feet, it looks like an umbrella)
This is the second roof I have built hear and I have discovered that I enjoy building roofs. The other roof was 20 feet high at the peak but much stronger and prettier. On the other hand it also was much more expensive and took 2 weeks to build instead of 2 days. I dont know why exactly I like roof building, but maybe it is the thrill of moving large beams around while perching on a narrow strip of wood suspended above the ground. Sorry Mom, but I am not done yet. My next roof goes over the stock feeder and will be made with round poles instead of expensive 2x4s.
After the work on the roof was done for the day, I headed over to the my friend Bolivars farm where my animals are lodged. It is well past the end of milking, the cows out to pasture and the barn yard empty and quiet. The milkers are quietly resting in the shade of the porch while the guard dog approaches and carefully inspects me for any indication of malintent.
I ask about the animals and the morning's milking and get a response in unintelligable spanish that is even worse than mine, so I head on over to check for myself. After tiptoeing through the muck of the stock yard, I peek into the calf pen and see a still sad little pile in the corner. This particular creature took the transition from milk to feed a bit hard and came down with scours (the runs for you non farm folk) a few days back and had been losing weight ever since. Not that I like to lose an animal but this was not a particularly valuable animal and sometimes it is best to let nature take its coarse.
When I was informed the calf died last night, I was a little curious as to exactly how long they planned to leave the carcass rotting in the calf pen. The pen has six other calves in it and is only 12 by 8. Its not like a fella might not notice it. And if you are able to ignore it until after the tropical noon sun, you wont be able to ignore it much longer. I am rather curious as to what they will do with the little bag of bones. I sure hope they bury it before I get back.
Disappointing and sad but I dont get overly sentimental over these thing. So I went home, took the family out for lunch and spent my afternoon at the beach.
I met Felicita and the kids back at our farm. We have been so busy lately the kids hadnt been up in a while and Isabella was itching to see Mr Ed the horse. I took gave the kids the grand tour of the new milk building. Isabella tried out the cow collars but they were a bit big on her while James explored the feed trough and pointed out cow pies.
Isabella still isn't exactly sure what this milking thing is all about but she wants to help. The other day she gave me some pesos she found so I could buy milk for the cows. Once we are up and running I will have to straighten that out..
Next on our tour was Mr Ed and his uncooperative side-kick Bonehead (excuse the pun). Off we trot through the weeds and vines I call a pasture to find the animals. As we approach, Mr Ed stands like a good quiet horse while Bonehead carefully keeps out of reach (just in case I need any work done). I mentioned earlier I am pretty new to horses, so I take it real easy and scratch him behind the ears. He is quiet as always so I bring the kids up close to pet him. Isabella calls him a "clippity clop" and James tells me that it is a very nice cow. Mr Ed seems quite content in his role as family horse, so I give each the kids a turn sitting on his back. Again Mr Ed does very little and we head off for home Not exactly an eventful moment, but I think thats a good thing.
Even farmers deserve an afternoon off once in a while so after lunch and the manditory siesta we head off to the beach to meet some friends. We set up camp near our trucks and send the kids off to play. This particular beach is not especailly beautiful but it is great for kids. The beach is at one side of a small bay maybe 400 meters long and is rarely visited by tourists. 200 meters out and the water is only waist deep with no waves. The beach is backed by almond and coconut trees.
Beach life here is very different from any I have experienced elsewhere because it is not just recreation, it is a social occasion. We live in a small town here and everyone knows everyone. As we spend the afternoon lounging in our chairs, cousins, nephews, friends all stop by. Pickup trucks and SUVs loaded up with the kids, abuello and tia (grandma and auntie) all arrive. Some arrive 3 or 4 on a little moped. The head of the National Police for the whole area stops by in his big SUV. A bunch of the cool kids show up on big 600cc sport bikes to cruise slowly up and down the beach looking for friends or girls or something. The water is full but not overly populated with kids playing and there is a soccer game going on. The manditory merengue music is being played by a truck (or is it a speaker on wheels) at the other end of beach.
As dusk approaches, the crowd slowly thins. Usually the overloaded motorcycles first, the last are the pickups. We send the kids out to rinse off the sand, and they come back just as sandy as before, only wetter. By the time we head home, only a few stragglers remain.