We have all seen the tall network of steel beams stretching up above a building site, forming the internal skeleton of the buildings we live in, work in, and pass through in our daily lives. If you ever get the chance to watch a steel-frame building being constructed, it is a fascinating and enlightening experience. Even stopping by each day to check on progress is interesting. Taking a picture each day and then seeing them shown in rapid succession shows clearly how the structure takes shape, first with the foundations and steel internal structure, then the internal features and cladding.
Assembling Frameworks and Perforated Sheet Metal Panels
The process isn’t much different than it is when children build something out of sticks or certain kinds of blocks. Learn about perforated metal panels here. Strong beams are linked together to form frameworks with each part supporting and reinforcing the others. The beams themselves are moved onto the site on large trucks, and lifted into place by those tall cranes that tower over building sites, moving slowly around like the necks of mechanical dinosaurs. Vertical trusses bracket horizontal girders, level by level, as the structure slowly grows from the ground to – in some cases – truly breath-taking heights.
Arranging Architectural Layers
The foundation is, of course, foundational to the structural integrity of any building, but the second key feature is the steel infrastructure. Think of your body without any kind of skeleton and you get the idea: even if the floor is good, you’d still be just a bag of fluids and organs without the rigidity afforded by your bones. The steel is the skeleton of a building.
Steel erection virtuosity is the core of a structure. Fastening and binding technology, both state-of-the-art and more traditional, are both employed to lock components into place. Engineering technology and complex maths ensure that the techniques used are more than adequate to perform the job in each instance. It all comes together to form a solid, reliable, and functional structure for the purpose.
Constructing steel portal frame buildings is a complicated process involving different issues in design, manufacture and installation. The size and weight of these structures mean mistakes can cost lives. It’s important to understand the difference between pitched roof and crane portal frames.
Future of Building Technology
The boundaries and limits of today’s building technology are being pushed and advanced by daring civil engineering and construction projects. Asymmetrical combinations, prefabricated panels, and new techniques and understanding mean that buildings are getting taller – MUCH taller – can withstand seismic activity (earthquakes) better, can be shaped into giant leaning structures, wedges of glass, bent shapes with wide tops and narrow bottoms that, to the untrained eye, look as if they shouldn’t be standing at all, never mind being a solid, well-constructed piece of architecture. Not only do these techniques allow for a wider variety of shapes and heights, but also improve the speed with which buildings can be assembled on-site. The prefabricated components mean that sections of the building can be built off-site, moved in on trucks, and set into place in slabs or pods, saving days, weeks, or even months of on-site construction. That can mean substantial savings in both time and money – not to mention the reduction in inconvenience for those living and working around construction zones (UK gov regulation here).
And the key to it all is the steel lattice structure.
I planted out some lettuce! It may be a bit too early, but who really cares if it makes it–lettuce is in the ground! 
Perhaps I’m ahead of myself. Nah. It’s a decently hardy variety, Des Morges Braun from Switzerland, that I’ve hardened off for a week or so. I feel confident that they’re ready for some low temps, and for the next week here it’s supposedly going to be in the 60′s without freezing at night. I think they’ll acclimate nicely. On a whim I also planted out several Reine des Glaces head lettuces in some open spots, without hardening them off at all. Perhaps I’ll see a contrast in the transplant shock. 
These particular lettuces had some serious-looking root systems that warranted either potting up or planting out, so I chose the latter. Spring has arrived, and I just had to put some plants in the soil to kick off the season. 
The crocuses are blooming, most of which I planted just this last fall by scattering fist-fulls of them in the front yard in a rather random way. They just turned up in sweet little clusters, looking almost like little fairy footprints meandering from the front door. I love seeing them open during the day. Even if we dive into a cold spell again (which we inevitably will, no matter how hard I may deny it), at least we’ve seen some flowers in bloom. 
The daffodils are about to burst as well, looking nice and robust: 
Even the ones swimming in a thick carpet of ivy seem to be doing great. 
And always a welcome sight in a snow-less garden, the lovely indestructible mache. I harvested a few handfuls today for a salad tomorrow. This stuff is amazing for so many reasons. 
The shallots are up too! I ended up planting some of our red shallots from last year despite the garlic bloat nematode problem with our garlic. The shallots were grown in a separate bed, and I really think the nematode was a seed-borne problem rather than a soil-borne one. We’ll see. It’s a risk I’m willing to take to have a prolific shallot harvest this year. I also bought a pound of grey shallots to plant for the first time. I read that they have a superior flavor to the red shallot–and you know how I love tasty food–and I also wanted to ensure at least a small harvest in case the red shallots rot in the ground from nematode infestation (and indefinitely contaminate my garden soil). But I’m going to stay optimistic. 
I typically plant the red shallot bulbs in Fall. Although I couldn’t find any information ensuring their hardiness, I read that the grey shallots don’t keep as well as red shallots; I decided to go ahead and plant them in Fall as well, rather than risk them rotting in storage. I’m happy to report that they are winter hardy up here in Zone 4/5! So to everyone who is curious like I was: grey shallots can withstand the winter (at least down to -12 degrees Fahrenheit) with a thick straw mulch and will come out of dormancy in Spring with the same vigor as the rest of the Allium clan. They do have a wispier appearance than the stocky red shallots. Everything is stirring now. It’s so nice to see new growth. One of my favorite spring flowers is emerging as we speak: the columbine. 
How uniquely does this plant unfurl?! I love the deep purple color and its ruffly leaves, almost cabbage-y. 
This early leafy growth might be prettier than the flowers! Well, that’s what’s happening in the garden for now…soon there will be more. Can’t wait. 
Gayla from You Grow Girl prompted the Grow Write Guild with another topic, What does your garden look like right now? 
Mostly brown, actually. A little green thrown in there, and the scattered flower. But mostly crusty old leaves and broken straw mulch. And the remnants of a long maple season. 
It’s surprisingly difficult to see my garden as it is now. I always have big plans for it and spend the winter drawing map after map and perusing seed catalogs until I’ve memorized what my garden is going to (theoretically) look like in its full productive glory. 
When I walk through the garden at this sparse time of year I’m definitely not present in it; I’m usually wondering what I had planned to put in that sunny spot over there or visualizing all the places I’m going to broadcast poppies. When I look out over the garden, I really just see a stimulating to-do list. 
It’s funny how not-pretty I think these photos are. Compared to the garden I currently see in my imagination, this one is straight up desolate. I want to see activity, growth, and bright colors, without accepting the reality that we just lived the last 6 months below freezing. I’m realizing how uncomfortable I am in this time of transition…somehow, I think at the end of a long winter should be late August. 
I’m working on accepting, slowly, being here in Early Spring. Robins, red-winged blackbirds, a kingfisher, and chipping sparrows all seem to be feeling the season fully. Even a colony of mildly annoying starlings have set up an apartment complex in the soffett outside our bedroom window (soon there will be babies). Lots of bird-chasing-bird action. There’s really a lot happening in the garden; I just have to look a lot closer. 
That’s the mesclun mix I direct seeded a couple weeks ago. First time trying this out. Normally direct-seeding doesn’t work so well in our shady and moist garden, but perhaps the ducks are really proving themselves as slug control? (I could be jinxing myself here.) 
That’s Arnica chamissonis, coming back for another year. I’ve yet to make arnica oil or tincture from this American native (only from the populated-in-places European A. montana), but perhaps this is the year, since it’s looking great! It’s way more vigorous than most things this time of year, and perhaps it’s a good healing sign: John just dislocated his shoulder, and we’ll probably need a good stock of this lovely anti-inflammatory plant around. 
Another member of the Aster family, Coltsfoot, or Tussilago farfara is one of the few flowers around about now. These fuzzy little yellow guys are blooming right in the stream-bank, before their leaves come up. The leaves are used medicinally as a cough remedy, typically made into tea or smoked. Back on cultivated land, the lilac buds are swelling. 
And our very first daffodil, barely unfurled. 
The snazzy bulbs and the medicinal herbs poking up reminded me that there’s a special treat in the woods behind my house, a stand of bloodroot, Sanguinaria canadensis, that I spotted a couple years ago. Last year I missed the ephemeral bloom, which I was determined to never miss again. It might be the prettiest native flower, which blooms when almost nothing else is in early spring, deep in the woods amongst leaves and fallen trees and a whole lot of brown. Maybe it’s just relatively pretty. But it’s beautiful. Remembering the bloodroot, I set out into the woods searching for flowers. I wandered for a bit until I almost stepped on them. 
It’s in the poppy family; you can tell by how pretty the flower is! They opened that afternoon. 
Okay, I admit it, I ditched the garden for the woodland because there was a pretty thing blooming there. I’m constantly pulled toward the eye candy, glossing over the empty brown stuff that is the soil, which is meanwhile coming alive with worms, frogs, snakes, microbes, and mycorrhizae (everything that will eventually produce a healthy garden). Maybe those straw-covered garden photos aren’t so desolate after all, just under-appreciated by an impatient gardener.
Our increasingly headstrong male duck (pictured above) attacked me one night when I tried to get him and his lady into their coop. I know it sounds pathetic to be attacked by a duck, but he was relentless, for real! That was it for me…I decided to just let them sleep outside if he was going to be a jerk like that. The whole set up worked great. Magpie was laying her eggs outside in a nest she dug under the lilac bush (a great spot that kept the eggs cool and shaded in the heat of the day) and Man-duck abandoned his interest in kicking my ass. The homestead was once again peaceful. But then, as all sad stories go, Magpie was nowhere to be found one morning, until I finally discovered her remains in a corner of the yard. Any predation on the animals you keep is heartwrenching. 
But in a sappy sort of way, the wild violets began blooming the same afternoon. So subtle and cute and understated (just like Magpie), they comforted me in understanding that the earth has these patterns…things die, things come alive, things fade, and new things bloom. 
The backyard is now filled with violets blooming (somewhat of a consolation to me, but Man-duck is pretty lonely without a duck friend these days). I often find him calling out to ducks flying by, and I wonder if he’ll fly off with them or perhaps attract a new young lady. We’re in the process of finding him a new home, but in the meantime–and entirely on his own volition–he’s been going to bed with the chickens at night. After the chicks have settled themselves on the roosts, he waddles up the ramp to the coop and tucks himself into the straw under the nest boxes. What a sweet, agreeable guy all of a sudden. 
And in homage to Magpie–or maybe because there’s a weird creature sharing their home now–the chickens have abandoned their nice man-made nest boxes and have started to lay in Magpie’s old earthen nest. 
But I won’t dwell on the sad news. Around the garden, the all the spring flowers are really spectacular. Tons of flowers that I didn’t even plant, and some I didn’t even discover until last year (I had probably weedwacked them all unknowingly) are in full bloom. I absolutely love that I get to see this guy every spring, the snakes-head fritillary: 
And thank god these delicate vinca were established before we got chickens, because chicken claws wage war on them every day: 
The bleeding heart, another one that has been here long before me, just forming its bloom: 
The peonies have begun to unfurl: 
As far as things I did plant, last fall I invested in a bunch of narcissus bulbs with the intention of ramping up the spring out here. I’m so glad I did, it really steps it all up a notch; I’m already thinking about other colors to add next year. Not sure if I’ll ever reach that “enough” point now! 
We’ve got a blend of “Thalia” a tall white one, and “Katie Heath,” a more diminutive narcissus with a pale pink cup. I like her. 
A couple years ago for John’s birthday I got him a magnolia tree. Last year we had one flower. This year we have…one flower. Maybe two next year? I guess we’ll have to wait and see! I should think of it more as a gift to the future generations that occupy this plot of land. An old magnolia tree sure is magnificent. 
The little asian pear is blooming too. Last year when it was in bloom we got almost a foot of snow. But I don’t think that’s quite possible this year, although a frost still is. 
As for the edibles, the Des Morges Braun lettuce is almost harvestable: 
The kale has just a little longer to go: 
I think I’ll put parsley in the ground today: 
And another development I’m pretty excited about, a new compost bin! This one is chicken-powered. 
I kind of dread turning compost, so much so that I don’t really do it but once a year. It’s a little awkward and I always have to negotiate these unwieldy and rather dangerous scraps of fencing that I use to contain the pile. Normally a skunk drags most of the food out of the fencing each night and litters it all around the bin. But this one seems great already (very attractive to chickens as well as to me!), and the chickens already love to scratch around in it even though there’s not many “greens” in it yet. We’re going to keep bones out of the pile so the skunk doesn’t become a very close neighbor again (and so chickens don’t get a taste for chicken…sorry, I know it’s a bit gross but I couldn’t help myself on that one!). 
The garden is absolutely beautiful this year. I’m loving it. And so productive! Right now we’re eating tomatoes, potatoes, green beans, lettuce (yes lettuce! all summer long!), kale, carrots, shallots, leeks, and picking dozens of bouquets. It’s kind of the best.
