“All one can do is accept life’s inherent constraints and do the best work possible,” writes the editor of Mortise & Tenon. “Is this not the story of all good work? Every project worth doing requires us to reckon with limitations of skill, tools, materials, time, energy, finances, etc. It’s so easy to throw in the towel, to give up altogether. But those who make it to the finish line are the ones who are ready to pivot when things don’t go as planned.”

That is a great word for every aspect of my life as a “home owner.” Nothing is the way I want it to be, and every change or fix requires more time or money than I have. (Cue tiny violin, please.)

“All one can do is accept life’s inherent constraints and do the best work possible.”

And I thought of this line about 43 times yesterday afternoon as I repeatedly ascended the ladder with handfuls of scrap lumber — half of which belongs to half-started projects that (ahem) were definitely gonna be finished before I needed to put firewood in — to pass through the outdoor window to the attic in order to make room in the woodshed for a couple cord of firewood. Safer it was not, but it is easier and faster. Alone it would be about 6x faster than hauling it through the house and up the stairs and winding it over to the attic that way. But with my son in the house trying to help and wanting nothing more than to help, that makes using the ladder about 36x faster.

Do not misunderstand me; I do firmly believe it is my first and foremost job in life to let him help — indeed, to find as many ways for him to help as possible. But when you only have one afternoon to get a job done, that means distractions, diversions, decoys, and psyops are a necessary — if still unfortunate and even shameful — part of the game.

And don’t worry, he still helped clear the shed in the morning and stack wood in the afternoon.

Only time will tell if any finish lines are crossed in this old house, but we’ve officially survived a third year. “All one can do is accept life’s inherent constraints and do the best work possible.”

the Sun, the stars, the wind, and the waves

A fitting Robert Frost poem in my first issue of Mortise & Tenon, considering the “good blocks” I have waiting for me in the driveway on this fine Sunday.

as the rain rests shining / upon the leaves.

Worplace décor

A few days ago, when I was dabbling with this post about language that didn’t go far, I thought I really should find an excuse to share Nadezhda again. Jake Meador’s essay on our habit of utilitarian language use (thanks ReaderJohn) is just such an excuse. (I will definitely have more to say about Meador’s piece.) Nadezhda Mandelstam is probably my favorite person to walk the planet, certainly so in the 20th century. If you have not read her, this review of her memoirs from a few years ago is my best attempt to get you to do so.

A lifetime’s knowledge shimmers on the face of the land in the mind of a person who knows. The history of a place is the mind of an old man or an old woman who knows it, walking over it, and it is never fully handed on to anybody else…

— WB

Four generations, 87 years apart • Wendell sits on the porch with his great grandmother. A lifelong, content, stay-in-place farmer, she is the closest thing to a Wendell Berry that I know.

“they grazed the sky and sounded the underworld”

Mastering skills • Slow is smooth; smooth is fast.

“Poems are nearer to prayers than to stories.”