For the love o' lumber

You're gonna love the front steps, I told Robert this morning. He's coming this weekend -- with a truck of furniture and furnishings -- and of course curious about what he's going to see.

"Did they put a new coat of concrete on them?," he asked.

They needed something. Heaven only knows when they were poured, along with the giant block that underlies our front porch, but they weren't done with much care to start, and the years haven't done them any favors. They sag in the middle -- actually, some sag at the sides; they're not level; they're cracked; the slabs on both sides tilt a bit.

And the board at the edge of the porch-- the top of the steps -- was already tilting toward the street.

Deco studied the situation, measured, studied, checked levels, made shims, measured, checked levels, adjusted shims -- and started sawing our deck wood to clad the concrete and repair the top edge.

Actually, "sawing" isn't the right word. "Shaving" is more like it, millimeter by millimeter, till each board fit perfectly.

That was yesterday. Today he assembled and installed. Front boards anchor to the riser and the step, usually through shims. Middle boards anchor to concrete. Thin rips of boards at the back edges of the steps serve as foundations for the risers above them.

To put it together, countersink the boards, spread some industrial mega-adhesive, drill into the concrete and Tap-Con everything tight.

To finish it all off, cut plugs for the screw holes, glue them into place, chisel them even with the surface and sand everything smooth.

"It's the first experience anyone will have of your house, man," he said with a wide brogue as I tested them: Solid.

"Like a rock, eh?," he grinned.

Like that, yes. And like the master craftsmanship I loved from Ref and Arnold, and every bit as elegant.