When my wife and I arrived at our lot early on a recent Monday, the land looked much like it has ever since farmer Lyman Cartwright decided to sell off his cropland for development into 26 residential lots.
For the last two years, our 1.3-acre parcel has been a gently sloping, pie-shaped slice of land covered mostly with quack grass, thistles, about 20 newly added trees and a large prairie area that we seeded and have tried to maintain as absentee landlords.
When I returned the next day, the lot had undergone a major transformation.
A rectangular crater, eight feet deep, 35 feet wide and 60 feet long revealed layers of top soil, stone, clay and sand that had not seen the sun for untold millenniums.
A steady rain fell, and I began to wonder how long the new landscape could be soaked before it turned to mush.
As I stood in the hole, mountains of freshly dug, sandy dirt towered around me. Where was all of it going to go, I wondered?
The soil is so sandy that our builder, Dan Ward, of Daniel Ward Construction, said he thinks we can use it for backfill instead of the stone that we had planned on using. That could save us hundreds of dollars.
Footings to support a future fireplace and load-bearing wall had been poured and had hardened.
A skid loader was parked in our future basement.
A culvert and gravel driveway had been laid.
The land even has an address now. It’s a real mouthful–two letters and seven numbers–the first address in my entire life that has ever exceeded four characters.
It is becoming apparent to me that building a home is a very bipolar process.
You can go for long periods when it seems like nothing is happening and then suddenly there is a flurry of activity, a high-energy bender that can last for days.
Based on Ward’s plans, the current manic phase is likely to continue for at least another week or two.
Pre-cast, insulated basement walls from Superior Walls in Appleton are scheduled to be shipped by flatbed truck and then set in place by a crane. It’s a new basement construction technique that is starting to catch on in this area.
After the walls are lowered into place, a floor will be poured.
About a week after the basement is done, pre-engineered wood components making up the roof, floor and walls, with windows installed, will be shipped from Sterling Building Systems in Rothchild. Those components should be put together in eight days.
By the end of the month the house could be roughed in and closed off from the elements.
As someone who has been whining for months about how he has wanted to get moving, I should have been ecstatic with all of last week’s progress. And I am.
But there was a moment just before Joe Rossbach, the excavator, arrived when I had another bout of second thoughts about moving from our little home in Wauwatosa. I have written about our second thoughts before, so I won’t go into it all again, but it has to do with leaving a wonderful neighborhood and great neighbors.
Not that there is anything wrong with our future neighbors.
In fact, we have been on an accelerated get-acquainted program because the residents are forming an association to take over control of the subdivision and its 70 acres of common land from the original developers. We’ve already had several meetings.
We are trying to establish annual dues to maintain the property. A couple of homeowners say they don’t want to pay anything. Most say a couple hundred dollars a year is reasonable.
Then, there is the little issue of rules.
More than a few residents say they don’t want other residents to be able to drive snowmobiles or dirt bikes in the common areas. There also has been a small controversy over whether above-ground swimming pools should be allowed.
So just before our groundbreaking last week, my wife and I were sitting in our “prairie,” now the scene of a battle between weeds and perennials, the outcome of which has yet to be decided.
My wife, LuAnn Lanke, tells me she doesn’t want to move.
I was thinking the exact same thing.
I had come to like our lot for its steady predictability, a place where I knew that nothing dramatic would ever happen, but which also could serve as a well of inspiration for imagining our future abode.
I had not realized this until recently, but we have lived in our Wauwatosa home for 10 years, more than any other house I have lived in before.
My father was an Army officer who was frequently transferred from base to base. The first eight years of my life were a blur of new neighborhoods, new schools and new friends.
Maybe this impending move has resurrected some of those memories and feelings.
As I stood trying to think of what to say to LuAnn, I heard the sounds of wild turkeys off in the nature preserve just behind our lot.
A few moments later, a bluebird landed next to me in one of the small maple trees we planted last year. I had not seen a bluebird in years.
Patches of purple coneflowers that we planted last year were sprouting around me.
We could do a lot worse, I thought.
