So in between going to work and whatnot, I managed to get a coat of that wood sealer stuff on my logs. I also added a second treatment to the below ground area which I measured out on each log and then treated with another preserver designed for fence posts because fuck rot that's why.
So then the next step was to get those suckers into the ground. So we hopped into the car and went off to buy some Quickcrete except we were trying to do this on a weekend. Which went pretty much exactly like you would think trying to find an open hardware store in rural West Virgina on a Saturday would go.
Luckily we found somewhere with super fun marked up prices and then carted our prize home. Then it was a simple matter of hauling the trees over to the holes, and standing them up. Except that when we put the first one in water came flooding up out of the hole because of course the holes would still be wetter then the bottom of the ocean.
The really unfortunate part, however, came from the fact that, when you gather only the biggest logs, they might be a tad bigger then the holes. And because I had marked all the logs to paint on an extra layer of sealer, we got to see exactly how far off we were. So after a lot of swearing and doing arcane things with the pry bar we gave up, got the backhoe and then proceeded to shove all the logs down into the holes using the back bucket.
You know, when it really comes down to it, is there any problem a backhoe can't solve?
Anywho, then it was time to level them. At first we tried using two levels, but of course upside down tree trunks are not perfectly straight so in the end we went with the 'aw fuck it close enough' method.
So while Scott held the trunks at that mysterious 'pretty much level' spot I poured in the Quickcrete. Which was kinda sad because the more Quickcrete we poured in, the more water would pour out the top. Also I learned that the 60 pound bag is really fucking hard to pick up. It's kinda squashy. And also lacks handles. Also the bag is made out of like, paper or some shit so it's like ridiculously easy to rip it and end up pouring like, way a lot too much into the hole.
I'm just saying is all.
So then I poured in the Quickcrete and added a final layer of dirt on top and then we tamped everything down and then felt really victorious. So victorious that we went and cut a whole mess of thin boards with the motherfucking table saw to make up the sides, since I want the sides to be somewhat open to allow air to move through.
Then I felt really good about myself and what we had done. Until that is I discovered I had some sawdust in my left eye that no one could see but that I could feel was there. And then I freaked the fuck out and shined a flashlight into my retina and tried everything I could think of and the Internet told me I had a scratched cornea and that I was going to go blind and/or die and then I got really freaked out and made Scott look at my eyeball like a billion times until I think he thought I was hallucinating.
You know, because those sawdust hallucinations are so common around these parts.
After like, the entire fucking evening I was pretty sure I was going to have to go to the clinic and explain how I had gotten possible imaginary sawdust in my eyeball when I decided that I should probably just go to bed. Luckily overnight it worked itself out and I was able to wipe it out of my eye in the morning. Less lucky were all the dreams I had about being in Ohio during a tornado and trying to both evade the twister and the evil ranchers who were trying to price me out of my cattle farm.
Look I don't know why my brain associates sawdust in my eyeball with Bonanza and the Wizard of Oz the Ohio Version, but it does. Okay? Stop judging me.
I could have got that sawdust in my eye FROM A TORNADO.
Or you know, a railroad tie. Tornadoes are fickle like that. Or at least the imaginary dream tornadoes I invented to make a point are.
Look, I think the real lesson here is that sawdust is an asshole that will get you even through safety glasses.