The Glass Goes In! Day Three

We're on Day Three, Thursday, October 26. The frame was up and ready for glass by nightfall of the second day. On Day Three, almost all of the glass would go in. 

 They had a regular workshop set up, with sawhorses where they'd prepare each pane for insertion, and ladders to reach the ceiling of the emerging greenhouse. It was fun to watch them flow through the work.

             

    

Everything gets pinned on Brian, the eldest. Here, he's applying a suction cup, while Bob hammers in the spacers (?) to hold each pane in place. I couldn't help but think how much better this will be than holding the panes in place with Gorilla Tape, my best friend in the plastic deli-box Groanhouse decade.

           

The afternoon of the 26th, the glass started going in. 

The low panes are easier. Putting them in over one's head is a whole 'nother thing. 

The way to pick up, carry and especially insert a 30 pound pane of glass is to use a suction cup, since you can't very well hold a 30-pound pane by the edges and set it into place in the frame without smashing your fingers.

      

Doing all this over one's head while balancing on a ladder? Nooo thank you. I'll watch instead. 

As I watched the McCollisters work, and looked at the absolute battery of special tools they used, it sank in on me that trying to hire someone who had never assembled a greenhouse or solarium, as I had, was total madness.  The extended ghosting I got from the local glass guy, ending in a big nothing, is why my greenhouse is being constructed at Halloween.

I was encouraged to find a local glass specialist. What did I know? So I tried. And tried. If I'd only engaged American Glass and Metalworks from the very start, I wouldn't still be waiting to use my greenhouse on October 28. So please, learn from my mistakes. When told you can find your own installer, say, "Who do you work with, and whom do you recommend?" Then engage the installer who works closely with the glass company/greenhouse supplier of your choice. It may seem expensive to bring a crew who live in the Carolinas and Georgia, but trust me on this: Unless you're experienced in it, you can't do it yourself, and engaging someone who comes in with a lower estimate but doesn't know what they're doing is false economy. These guys assembled the frame in two days and had all the glass in the third day.

 Helping anyone who wants to have their own greenhouse built is a big part of why I'm blogging this process--to save you some of the trouble I've run into. As Bob said, "This is not a kit. There are no instructions." And no tools included.

There's no substitute for the peace of mind of knowing your project is in the right hands.

      

Coming back from my evening walk I marveled at all they'd accomplished. 

I gazed out at the meadow for awhile, feeling exhausted, overstimulated, awestruck, and lucky.

 It's hard to put into words the mix of emotions I had on finally seeing my dream take shape. I'd been away for a full week in coastal North Carolina, doing field trips and giving a talk at the 25th Annual Wings Over Water Festival. I was so out of practice traveling, my suitcase weighed in at 49 pounds. Embarrassing!  I flew back Monday, getting home in the evening of the 24th.  Tuesday morning the 25th, bright and early, the crew arrived and sprang into action. There'd been no time to unpack or rest--I just had to fling myself at the job at hand. There's what you wish for (downtime to rest and recharge) and then there's what happens, and you've got to take everything just as it comes. 

That's been the big lesson in this whole endeavor. So much of what happened along the way was out of my hands. But now, with 20/20 hindsight, I could see the wrong turns I'd taken; the blind alleys I'd traveled. To have things suddenly go right was almost more than I could process. The right people had finally come to me--AJ Johns, Lane and Stone; Chip Ditchendorf; Jeff and Chris Cline, and the McCollisters. It just took awhile. Nine months, like making a great big stone, glass and aluminum baby where there had been nothing before.

                

In the rare moment of quiet, I waited for the great horned owls to start calling, as they have every evening this week. It seemed fitting that I had to listen for them over the snarl of a nearby chainsaw. Everything's going to be all right, their soft hoots reassured me. You may not have done everything right, but you've done everything you could. Soon. Soon.