I'm happy with the roof after deliberating what to do all summer. No time to use a froe and make my own shingles. It would be out-of-character and against the principles I've applied here to buy them at Cashiers prices. Cedar shakes are very expensive. Asphalt shingles would look just, well, wrong. That leaves tin as an appropriate, fitting building material that has adorned the scalp of many a cabin since the late 19th Century.
Thursday, Jon Ogburn came up the holler to help me with the roof. Although I've mostly done everything with the help of others and many things by myself, I'm (a) sprinting to a stopping point and wanted to get this done, (b) not hugely fond of being on roofs, and (c) aware that the charming lack of angular perfection has implications when placing perfectly square panels of tin. Plus, Jon's fun to have around, and he brings an appreciation of all the hand-tool work I've done to bring the cabin this far -- he worked with an Amish roofer for years. Like me, he makes concessions (used a battery drill). I just wish he'd worn his black wide-brimmed hat yesterday!
Tobias came by while Jon roofed and I was building log furniture. These guys represent two ends of the project. Tobias felled the trees, and Jon finished the roof.
Here's Jon, with his splendid, gleaming tin roof in the background. Until it fades a bit, you'll be able to see it from space.
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