I wrote this essay fifteen years ago.
It was one of my first, still it resonates with me now just as much as it did then.
We moved from the woods long ago and the people who took over didn’t take care of things, so I don’t know if the cabin still stands – but for me, it will always be there.
***
I am building a shed in my woods. When I am done, it will be a place to hide from the world and write. Meanwhile, the noise of construction cannot be hidden. It carries well beyond my property and attracts the curious.
Ever so often I hear a shuffling on my gravel path and moments later a neighbor materializes out of the trees.
“What you building?” they ask.
The question always throws me.
I see a floor. I see framing for walls. I see bare rafters. I ask them what they see?
They shrug.
It raises doubts about my project.
“It started out as a shed,” I tell them, “but after all the rain we got in June, I decided to build an ark.” My little joke always falls flat. They know me but not that well. For all they know, I am building an ark.
“Where’s the door,” they ask.
Again the question throws me. Again the self doubt.
The rough framing for a front door is right there. Why can’t they see it? I point to the opening.
“No,” they say, “the DOOR.”
“That’s it,” I insist.
They tilt their head one way then the other. They appraise the door from several angles. I know what they are thinking.
“It’s not an equipment shed,” I tell them. “The door is for people, not tractors.”
“Then what kind of shed is it?”
I know better than to say a writing shed. That would set me too far apart.
“It’s a man-hut,” I say.
Their faces light up. Now they are jealous but at least they understand because building a man-hut deep in the woods is entirely understandable.
In this part of the country, houses remain the province of women. No, we don’t live in a time-warp. Most local women work outside the home and off the farm. In fact, most farmers work off the farm. Still, that aspect of the past lingers. Women rule the roost and while guys are welcome in the house, they are not comfortable there. They belong in the machine shop, barn, garage or the shed.
Everyone understands this.
“So, you’re building an ark, eh?” They chuckle. Now that it is clear what the structure is, it is also safe to laugh at my little joke.
“Yup,” I say.
“But what the hell is that?”
“What?” I ask.
“That?” they say, pointing at some detail of construction.
Everyone indicates something different. Some don’t like my choice of skids over footings, others prefer nails to screws, while others can’t get past a minor flaw.
One guy asks, “Where’s the spacers?”
“I’m not using them,” I say.
“You’re not using spacers?”
Spacers are little metal clips inserted between the wooden sheets that cover a roof. Not using them really bothers him.
”It’s gonna collapse,” he prophesies.
“No, it ain’t,” another guy says. He goes on to explain how builders employ tricks to compensate for flimsy materials. Spacers are something they use to firm up cheap OSB plywood.
This ignites an argument.
“I worked construction for a year and that’s the way we always did it,” the first guy says.
“Yeah, and who did you work for? Balsa-wood Builders Inc?” accuses the second.
The argument rages on into the night.
The next day, someone says, “I hear your roof collapsed. You should have used spacers.”
What is it about my shed that evokes tribal instincts? I am not sure. Maybe it is working in the shade of ancient oaks. Maybe it is the notion of a man-cave, a place to be apart from the world. But whatever it is, everyone finds something to harp about.
It is not that they are unkind or overly opinionated, far from it. It’s more that I am out there, alone in the woods, making noise with a hammer and saw. It is an irresistible lure to participate. Even if just to give advice.
In all things, advice tracks two ways: one focuses on problems or a better way of doing something, the other isn’t advice at all, rather it’s just someone stamping their imprint on your work.
I always welcome critique but people have to understand the work is mine, not theirs.
As for flaws, I take them in stride. If I wanted perfection I would have hired a perfectionist. This way, the mistakes are mine and they give the place character – my character.
And this is what it looked like finished.
Almost Iowa 
I don’t know why people feel the need to try to get others to do things their way, but so many people do! And as you say, they aren’t trying to be critical, it’s just human nature. But your shed was yours, and I’m glad you built it exactly the way you wanted it built. And personally, I’m a little jealous. I may be female and have a lot of say over the house I share with my husband, but it still isn’t just mine. And the idea of a space just for me, in the woods or somewhere else quiet and peaceful, is attractive!
Greg, I love that the cabin is still there in your mind. That’s a cozy thought. I hear you about the advice. I have a “friend” who can’t seem to go two minutes without pointing out how much better I could be handling every little detail, inside or outside when she visits. Yet by her definitions she hasn’t criticized anything. Keep adding character to whatever you do. Hugs.
If the shed is a metaphor for your writing, I’ve enjoyed your design & execution from way back to Gather days. Keep it coming!
When I built the man-hut, I was writing for Gather. When I look back on what I wrote back then, I wish I had done better, but I don’t think I will ever feel the pure joy of writing like that ever again.
Same feeling. We get better as we persist, and stick to the spirit of our inner plan. Find the joy!
Amusing to read in hindsight, but I can imagine it being a tad annoying at the time. What do they say? “Opinions are like assholes—everyone has one.”
Hmmmmm, what about the old saying of “it’s a committee of four with five opinions.”
Somebody must have two assholes.
I wouldn’t doubt it and I think I know who that is. 🙂
Haven’t heard that one, but you may be right. It’s too bad whoever bought the place let it go to ruin. I sold my house a long time ago and it also has not fared well. Makes me sad.
Best to live with your own flaws.
I suppose that depends on the number of flaws. 🙂
Super, Greg. Very nice.
Thanks!
I dont know what to say except its lovely 🤩
Thank you. I appreciate the comment.
:))
I love this post for a lot of reasons including the fact that I’m an introvert and can enjoy being alone without being lonely. I will also take the credit and the criticism for a project, but fair warning I take the criticism with a grain of salt unless it’s a field you’re an expert in and then I’ll take notes. 🙂
“enjoy being alone without being lonely”
I am right there with you. It’s why I walk 8 miles a day.
Maybe you can start a men’s group for the shed watchers. 😊
Thank you for the hearty chuckle.
We already have one. It meets daily at the Quickie-Mart, 8:00 am, front table.
😊
We had a neighbor who used to come over and give my husband a running commentary on every building project. He was a lovely older man and my spouse smiled, with a grimace.
😉
If your husband needs more advice, my rates are reasonable. 🙂
I’ll let him know.
Thanks.
😉
They are all jealous.
I was doing a little landscaping. Digging out around my trees pulling up grass laying down anti-week netting mulching….
All the comments and advice from passersby. I resisted the urge to ask where they lived so I could peruse their yard.
Mulching MUST BE DONE RIGHT! Consult me on how that is — but give me time to look it up first. 🙂 🙂
Your shed-watchers sound just like my dock-walkers. The details differ, but the dynamic is the same. Your last comment (“…the mistakes are mine…”) is the reason I stopped employing what are called ‘helpers.’ I finally decided that following behind them was more irritating and time consuming than doing the work myself. For years now I’ve worked alone; if the product is good, I accept the credit, and if there’s a problem I fix it. It’s less stressful in the end.
A wise person finds that the burden of critique weighs more on the critic than those whose work is being criticized.
I’ve often said, “Imperfection is my middle name.” It alleviates the guilt(?) that people with opinions try to leave behind like snail tracks on work that does not and never will belong to them. I’m glad you shared this.
It is an iron law of nature, that errors are most visible and vexing to those who make them. Most everyone else, either doesn’t notice or give a rip.