Window Box Hostage: Day Three

OK. Back to that window box. Let’s get the material selection out on the table, so you can get lots of good and bad advice about it from everyone. You’ll hear things like:

It’s gotta be cypress, for rot resistance.

It’s gotta be pressured treated wood, ditto.

It’s gotta be cedar, ditto.

It’s gotta be lined with copper, or it will rot.

Don’t make it from metal, it cooks the plants.

Make it from pine, so it will paint up well.

It’s gotta be marine plywood, assembled with epoxy, or it will delaminate.

And so forth.

Well, it could, but doesn’t have to be any of those things dear reader. You’re gonna get ten, maybe fifteen years, tops, out of your window box, no matter how indestructible it is. Let’s keep it simple, and well, picturesque.

We’re gonna make the box out of MDO. Medium Density Overlay. Why? Because it’s cheap, and easy to work with, and strong, and not too heavy, and it paints up well, and it holds a screw pretty good. MDO is the stuff that road signs were made from, before they were made of steel. It is an exterior plywood, with waterproof glue, and a tough paper face on it, impregnated with waterproofing too. It’s a light golden color when you buy it around these parts.

You can make two window boxes out of half a sheet of MDO. A full sheet is 4′ x 8.’ You could get four out of that, easy. We’ll also use some pre-primed #2 pine, 3/4″ thick, and 2-1/2″ wide, for the bands around the box, to stiffen and adorn it. You’ll need about 16 linear feet per box. They call that a 1 by 3. That’s called its nominal size, and traces the measurement of the lumber back to before it is dried, and shrinks, and is dressed to its final dimensions. It does seem to the fledgling lumber purchaser that calling something 3/4″ x 2-1/2″ a 1 by 3 is like calling the small coffee a medium, and figuring no-one will notice. But you are in the lumber yard now, dear reader, and they’re not trying to pull a fast one; believe me, they don’t feel the need to make any bones about taking the shirt off your back for a strip of wood a bird was chirping in a few weeks ago. It’s just one of those interesting and time honored traditions that traces its roots back to Noah, and people who know that sort of thing, know that sort of thing.

Now if you go to the Big Orange Place and ask for MDO, the pleasant teenage girl or boy with the orange smock and braces might mistake it for MDF, which is medium density fiberboard, and entirely the wrong article. MDF is brown talcum powder, mixed with nasty glue, pressed into big rectangles. It’s what bad furniture is made from. It lasts approximately ten minutes outdoors, unless it rains, in which case it disintegrates immediately. And it weighs +/- 750 pounds per sheet, or so it seems to if you try to carry it. And it’s loaded with formaldehyde from all the glue. Every single thing in IKEA is made out of it. Buy Sippican instead.

Anyway, 1/2″ thick MDO is what you want.

Now we’re gonna start measuring. You should too. How wide is the window you’re adorning? No, no, not the window sash alone. You should include the casings that flank it too. I’ve got 40″ here. That’s about average, and not too long for one trough. Really long windowboxes are generally a more difficult proposition, they have a tendency to bow out in the middle of the span from the weight of the wet soil and plants, and require either many partitions along their length, or better yet, you can divide the window box into more than one box. I’ve made them 10-12 feet long on occasion, but there’s a lot more structure in those than we need to deal with here.

(The box is under the three windows ganged together on the right, waiting for spring planting. BTW, the entire “gingerbread” front of that house is MDO, with pine battens on it. It’s great stuff.)

Wow, you look fatigued. You go rest. We’ll bring out the sawhorses tomorrow.

The Windowbox: What’s In It For Me?

 


Well, as reader and commenter Ruth Anne pointed out: geraniums. Of course, to impress your friends you draw back upon yourself and say: “Geraniums? Certainly not! Pelargoniums!” Of course we’re down home people here at Sippican Cottage and just refer to everything as: “Dah flowahs.”

The windowbox we’re going to make is well suited to geraniums. There you see it just planted with little nursery geraniums and a few vinca vines to eventually droop down. The spot gets good sun in the afternoon so the blooms come. The plants get quite tall for how little soil there is for them to grow in. See yesterday’s photo.

We filled another box of the same design with begonias, which show flowers even though the window faces northwest, ie: never gets any sun.

So what’s a window box for, exactly? Well, it’s got a few uses. In urban settings, it might be all the outdoor plants you’re going to get. In suburbia, the plantings around the house are generally there to blunt the join between the ground and your house. But you can’t see them much from inside the house. Getting them up at sill level brings the outdoors inside a bit, without transferring the buckets of mud indoors.

The purpose of most plants in home landscaping is to achieve a picturesque effect. I’m not sure very many people understand that. There is a melding of cognitive dissonance with a sort of Home Depot delirium tremens in evidence in most landscaping. The houses look like they are at war with the yard; the plants look disconnected from one another and the house; everything is laid out like a farm plot, which is is by its nature unnatural looking; and neatness to the point of plasticity is prized over the picturesque. Your plantings need to be a well organized mess to achieve a picturesque effect. That’s subtle, so it’s harder to understand than a profoundly organized sterile looking yard.

Other than vines creeping right up the siding, the windowbox is the easiest way to further banish the dotted line between inside and outside, harsh and soft, and nature and artifact. And deer don’t like to eat out of them. If you want flowers around here, that’s pretty much your first and only consideration.

You can click on the Amazon box in the right hand column and search for books about what kind of plants you might want to put in there. Then decide which window you want to put the windowbox under, and measure it. Windowboxes traditionally are made the width of the sash, but I like to make them the width of the sash and frame.

There. Day 2 of making a windowbox is over, and you haven’t hit your thumb or broken a sweat. See? I told you it would be easy. Tune in tomorrow and see if we’re actually accomplishing anything yet.

You Can Make It If You Try


Let’s make something.

I make things all day, every day. I’ve made so many things of one sort or another that it’s hard for me to go anywhere and not see one. That’s gratifying. Why don’t yo make something? I’ll help.

The winter is grinding here in the Northeast. It will be gloomy here by the shore until Memorial Day, and never really gets warm until July Fourth. I need to think about spring. How about you? There’s no better way to think about spring than to make a window box.

You can make it now, and have it ready for the first warm day when you clean the winter’s mess from the flower beds. You can know the satisfaction of making something with your hands, and then compound your accomplishment with the making of the flowers that will surely love it in there. Let’s do it. Let’s make a box of mud to hang on your house.

We’ll need a plan. I have one, and I’ll give it to you. You’ll need a few tools. I have all those, and I bet you do, too, or can lay your hands on them. You’ll need to have a little spare time to work on it. I don’t have any of that, but don’t worry; my windowboxes are all finished already. So I’m your early bird, and also the first mouse. You can be the second mouse. Remember, it’s the second mouse that gets the cheese. So get ready to build your “Second Mouse Windowbox.”

Day One: Take the rest of the day off. I’ll sign your timecard. Come back tomorrow.

Why Do We Need The United Nations When We Have Deep Purple ?

If you think I’m done with goofy versions of Smoke On The Water, you’re sadly mistaken. It’s better for you to be sadly mistaken than just sad, so I’m going to show you Senor Coconut and his Orchestra performing what I still firmly hold is one of the lamest pieces of music ever. In Tokyo.

After that, you can’t possibly be sad anymore, can you?

Born To Live In That Power

[Editor’s Note: A recycled story. You’ve had a year to forget all about it. The author is very busy making furniture for nice people and cannot write a fresh one. He’s had many jobs in his life previously. He has never been fired. He said the same thing whenever he left: I may be no great shakes, but I’m sure no one remotely like me will ever come through that door again. I’ll bet that’s always been true.]
{Author’s Note: There is no editor.}

I like the water from the rusty bucket best. It tastes like something.

It tastes like the earth. I can feel it. I roll it around in my mouth and it’s like the magnetism of the poles is in it. The world and everything in it is in the well.

I love that baby. I want to bathe him in the water from the rusty bucket. I want to baptize him myself from the font of the world. I want his bones to sing with the vibrations in the earth. Not clean, exactly; anointed.

That boy’s father carries him like a package. He isn’t anything to him yet. He loves him, sure, but in a potential sort of way. At least he carries him like there’s something breakable in that package. His love is purer than mine – because it is all in his mind, and still he loves that baby. Me, I can still smell the musk of my own womb on his soft little head. And the taste of the rusty bucket.

I didn’t know what to think when they strung the power lines across the horizon. Whatever is in those wires is not a person, but it trespasses just the same. But then I felt it. There was power in them, coursing through them. It was everybody and everything going everywhere all the time.

Sometimes I take my boy out in the cool of the evening, the clank of the final fork on the last plate still ringing in the house behind us, and we drink from the bucket with the rust in it, and I hold him up in the air so he can be washed in the power of those lines.

He was born to live in that power. I was born to drink from that bucket.

Month: February 2008

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