Building Gypsy Rose

Last winter, when I made the decision to build an equipment shed, I knew that I was entering new territory. While many of the buildings in my native New England (virtually all homes and barns built prior to 1850) are still supported by timber frames, it was only relatively recently that I came to understand the beauty, strength, and practicality of those old structures. Despite the efforts of revivalists that began reintroducing the art of timber framing in the 1970’s I had never taken the time to sort out the difference between a tie beam and a summer beam, never mind the nuances of scribe rule vs. square rule, common rafters vs. principal rafters, etc.

With my admitted lack of experience in the craft, I deemed the proposed equipment shed a suitable “practice” building, on which I’d sort out the necessary skills before taking on the larger primary barn that has been on the drawing board for the past couple of years.

So, we now have a stack of hemlock timbers under cover alongside Gypsy and the greenhouse has become a makeshift woodworking shop. The time to begin cutting the timbers for the first bent had arrived. Almost.

I needed a solid surface on which to place the timbers while carving the mortise and tenon joints. An ordinary set of sawhorses would not do. These timbers are heavy – hundreds of pounds apiece for the longer ones. I needed a set of stoutly built framing ponies. Besides, I reckoned, they could be “practice” before tackling the equipment shed. Hmmm. Will that barn ever be built?

Among the first lessons of the timber framer is one of patience. In contrast with the contemporary “stick-built” or “balloon framed” buildings that were adopted en mass during the latter 1800’s, a timber frame is the domain of the skilled craftsmen. Here on our land in Tunbridge, however, my apprenticeship will be a solitary affair, without the guidance of a master framer. It will take time.

My first 2-inch by 7-inch through mortise took nearly four hours to complete. My first “blind” mortise took two hours and I was initially intimidated by the challenges of fitting braces in mortises cut at 45-degree angles to the timber surface. By the end of a week of work I had cut, fitted, and refined the components of my first pony and was ready to drill and peg the joints together.

There was something very satisfying in the feel of that first 1-inch oak peg being driven through the joint connecting the pony’s base with its upright post. It’s a feeling that doesn’t go away with subsequent connections.

I had set a goal of laying the first timber for the equipment shed atop the ponies by the fist of the new year. On January 1st, 2010, at the end of a two week period (including ample breaks for holiday gatherings with family), I had two ponies solidly standing. Now, the real practice can begin. Giddy-up!