Rock Crest Renaissance

Which made me nostalgic for the good old days of... The Fork Lift. Ah, Sweet Mother of Heavy Lifting!

As Brien and I were extracting stones and corner pieces from a container that had filled with rainwater to get something of a more manageable weight to carry to the roof, the reality began to sink in about what it would take to move all the stones we need into places where they can be applied to the chimneys. I'm not averse to physical work, but compared against the ease in using pulleys or lifts, the idea of trips up and down several flights of stairs with boxes and buckets of rocks just seemed wrong.

As we passed the Magnolia tree, I caught sight of the man lift we'd used for much of the high work on the facade of the house in 2010/2011. A crude wooden 3-sided box, that device had attached so nicely to the fork lift that was once a fixture at Rock Crest. There's no way to calculate how many man and muscle hours that contraption spared us and how many places we were able to reach that otherwise would have been impossible to tackle. Life after the Fork Lift has been dismal and slow and arduous by comparison.

So, up we went with our rocks. And then we filled buckets from the rocks already on the 3rd story loft to lift out the window and trek to the center of the roof. Trip after tricky trip Brien made out the window and over to the rock pile... thankfully with no actual tripping as a result.

Ah, sweet Fork Lift. I miss you!