there’s a point in every frame where the work shifts from cutting to checking. the tools get quieter, the tape comes out, and you start seeing whether all those careful lines actually agree with each other. that’s where we were in this moment — the yard turned into a layout floor, sawhorses scattered around, and a handful of ratchet straps doing the patient work of pulling everything into place.
what you’re looking at is the dry-fit of a corner assembly. nothing glamorous here: just joinery meeting joinery, shoulders settling, housings proving whether they were as tight as they felt on the bench. this is the part i never rush. the frame will forgive a lot of things, but it won’t forgive being ignored at this stage. if something’s off, it always tells you now.
the light was good, the ground was soft, and the yard was doing what the yard always does — offering just enough space to imagine the whole structure standing. you walk around it, sight down the timbers, make a small adjustment, step back again. slow work, but honest work.
we’ll take it apart again before the final raising, but for a few minutes here, it was a frame. a real one — standing on sawhorses, held together with straps and hope, teaching us what needs to happen next.
#buildrememberrepeat — jon at star hill timberworks
