If we build it

Necessity is the mother of invention, but for Harry, there doesn’t have to be a need…just the idea and the desire to make it happen.

In the short time that we have been living with Grandma, surrounded by her spacious yard, Harry has had a desire to fill up that space. He’s been inspired to build…a lot.

The list includes:

A tunnel under the road leading into the barnyard

A racecar

A racecar track

A waterfall (the size of which would make Iguazu Falls look like a stream)

A tropical rainforest

A robot

An army of robots

A spaceship

A rocket

A large building in which to build the rocket

A rocket launch pad

A laboratory

A sailing ship

A dock (for the sailing ship)

A dinosaur habitat

A dinosaur paddock (for the really aggressive dinosaurs)

A space satellite

A space satellite launch pad

A soccer field

A movie studio

A library

An Olympic-sized swimming pool

A tree house (2 stories with walls, doors and windows)

Most of our challenges came in sourcing the materials: large amounts of steel and wood, other metals, electronics, flora and fauna, an excavator and, of course, the actual know-how required in building such things.

We did manage to get Grandma to agree to the building of a tree house…well, more of an elevated fort since there wasn’t a suitable tree in her yard. And, unfortunately, it would be a scaled down model from the version in Harry’s imagination: no walls, doors or windows. I reminded Harry, again, of the need to get permission from Grandma before commencing the build, since it is her yard after all. Her house. Her rules.

We also had to enlist the help of Uncle Gilbert, my sister’s husband. I managed to buy the necessary wood, wood screws, various fasteners and tarp (for the roof) without much trouble.

I have been known to handle a hammer with competency; to wield a drill; and to repair just about anything that needs repairing. I’ve helped friends put up a privacy fence around their pool; installed a floating wood floor; renovated three bathrooms – one down to the studs.

And I’ve scraped and sanded and painted Grandma’s garage doors and porch, cleaned and patched and painted Grandma’s kitchen (including patching a gaping hole in the wall above the stove where the exhaust fan used to be), repaired screen doors, installed shelving and even replaced a supporting post in Grandma’s grape arbor that had rotted away at its base.

In order to replace the arbor post I had to find a suitably straight tree trunk in the woods, cut it to the right length (8 feet) with a hand saw, drag it out of the woods and through the yard to the arbor, sand off the bark (keeps it from retaining moisture) and then wrestle the existing cross poles – covered in vines – onto the new supporting post.

I remember the day that I finished that task.  When I brought Grandma out to see the result of my hard work she marveled, “I didn’t know you could do that kind of stuff.”

My response?  “I am woman, hear me roar.”

But back to the tree fort: Actually getting Uncle Gilbert to participate in building our fort was another matter all together.  He can be a bit…a bit…well, let’s just say difficult.  He’s not one to offer his help.

I thought it best that Harry be the one to ask. In fact I was convinced that we had a much better chance of success if Harry used his little boy voice, his little face all screwed up with his “aren’t I the cutest thing you’ve ever seen” expression.

And we did. Uncle Gilbert begrudgingly agreed.

Gilbert is a self-taught carpenter with pretty impressive skills. He doesn’t talk much, except to grumble a disparaging comment from time to time. Or just to groan a half answer to a question you’ve asked, leaving you to wonder what he actually said. But knowing not to ask again.

He’s good with measurements and angles and the actual construction of whatever the project.  He is, however, one of those people who settle for just done, not necessarily done right. 

I am not.

Harry drew and handled the blueprints, showing them to Uncle Gilbert periodically. And he pounded a few nails.

My questions that began with “Shouldn’t we…” were answered with a curt “no, it’s good enough” more times than I care to even remember. This, a challenge, since I’m trying to teach Harry, “Anything worth doing is worth doing well.”

Putting those small conflicts aside, we built Harry’s fort in two days over two weekends. We christened it “Harry Island.”

Harry even pounded a few nails. Participating gave him a better understanding and appreciation of what it takes to build something like that. And, of course, an understanding and appreciation of what it would take to build a rocket, a rocket launch pad, a spaceship, a tunnel under the road to the barnyard, a race car, a race car track, a waterfall, a tropical jungle…

A happy boy with an almost complete fort and a sense of accomplishment.

Harry Island is located on Grass Avenue, Grandma's backyard, Wisconsin.