DOORS AND FLOORS

May 28, 2019

Farmhouse renovation, episode 3

Rural France can be extremely quiet in Winter: nature hibernates and the pace slows down, including that of construction workers. After the new roof and new walls were erected in late 2018, the house was officially hors d’eau.

Since Rick loves wood, we took a short ride to Montfaucon and visited Jean-Luc le menuisier in his workshop. Everything is custom-made. As you can see in the opening photo, he gets raw planks from the scierie, cuts them to size, preps and assembles them to create the six exterior doors and eleven windows that we need.

Kitchen door with opening for Lily the dachshund

Because he builds everything from scratch, we could ask him to customize the kitchen door and cut out a panel to accept Lily’s doggy door. Jean-Luc installed doors and windows on January 10: the house was officially hors d’air.

Meeting with the subs on a cold January morning

A meeting with all the subs quickly followed to review the blueprints and “fine-tune” the schedule. Originally, we were shooting for a completion date of mid-February but it was becoming pretty clear it was unrealistic. We were now looking at a late April move-in date.

Jean-Luc and crew were back very quickly to install poplar ceiling slats between the beams in the great room.

Poplar “ceiling” viewed from the (future) walk-in closet upstairs

Next, Gilles le plombier and Raymond l’électricien would come to perform the unsexy (but essential) part of the project: install all the tubes that would bring water and power to the various rooms.

Plumbing and electrical tubes running from their respective meters

A lot of tubes converge into the old cistern; it will house the furnace and the water heater.

Then, Dominique le plaquiste and his team of drywall workers started insulating the new walls and the ceilings.

They covered the new walls with sheets of plasterboard. They partitioned the upstairs addition to establish the walk-in closet and my future office.

Kitchen drywall. Lily is the inspector-in-chief.

The premise of a partition wall between the office and the closet

Philippe le peintre and his crew stained the wood beams in the kitchen and the great room. They also smoothed the walls and applied base coats.

Thierry and Michel –the two masons who were instrumental in the demolition– returned to finish the old interior walls.

Interior stucco with a rough finish. The old stone sink will get refurbished later on.

We had decided to apply an interior stucco on two of the walls and to have them point the stones on the other two. Love the result!

Jean-Luc came back to install the subfloor in the upstairs bedroom.

While we were in California in March, Joël le carreleur barely found the time pour the first concrete slab. Then it needed to cure for a good 10 days before Gilles could install the floor insulation and thread the tubes for our sub-floor heating system.

Gilles applies foam panels to insulate the floor

A maze of heating tubes running all over the floor

That was the state of the house on April 2, just before we made a family emergency trip to California. We would be gone for only a week; all the subs had been briefed about the sequencing of their work; we hoped everybody was on the same page…

View from my future office on a crisp February afternoon

Vocabulary
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Hors d’air: lit. out of air; airtight. In construction, it refers to the stage where all openings are equipped with doors or windows so the house can be sealed.
Le plombier: plumber
L’électricien (m): electrician
Le plaquiste: drywall worker
Le peintre: painter
Le carreleur: tile setter

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Missed Episode 2? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

WALLS AND ROOF

February 12, 2019

Farmhouse renovation, episode 2

It’s really happening! We’re actually building a house or at least, it feels that way. Let’s be honest: our subs are doing all the heaving lifting. But after witnessing an extensive demolition during the Summer, it has been quite rewarding to see our future house take shape under our watch. As much as I would have enjoyed moving straight into my finished house, I must admit that it is a tremendous advantage to live less than one hundred yards from the construction site and be able to address issues as they invariably crop up.

First item on the list was to build an extension so I could have une vraie cuisine to play in. We decided to pretty much follow the footprint of the 19th century house which included some low structures for the farm animals. My new kitchen will sit where the cochons and the lapins used to reside! I have high hopes that our Lapin Agile painting will eventually find a home on one of the kitchen walls.

After digging trenches for the foundations and pouring a rough slab, les maçons laid out waterproof membranes to prep the kitchen for a smooth pour of concrete.

Great room floor before the concrete pour

Wood planks and subfloor had been removed from the “great room” (i.e. the old fireplace room) and the downstairs bedroom during the demo. The exposed dirt got the same treatment as the kitchen.

On October 2nd, a huge cement truck negotiated its way between the linden tree and the boxwoods, deployed its telescopic arm, and started shooting a steady stream of dark grey béton all over the rez-de-chaussée.

Michel smoothing concrete in the future bathroom

For a few hours, the smooth wet floors glistened under the bright sun. Lily didn’t feel the urge to check them out too closely and was kind enough to leave them alone, free of souvenir paw prints.

The concrete cured rapidly and our masons were back onsite with pallets of red brick blocks to build the kitchen walls.

By mid-October, they also had erected the walls for the downstairs bathroom and brought up the walls of the downstairs bedroom up to the roof level (we wanted one height and pitch throughout instead of the three different roofs we inherited.) New openings were created for les portes and les fenêtres. They also consolidated (hum, rebuilt) the chimney.

Downstairs, Jean-Luc le menuisier brought and installed rows of beams to define the ceiling above the bathroom and the bedroom. Oak, chestnut, poplar, and fir are routinely used for construction as they are plentiful in our area. Instead of going to the local Home Depot equivalent, woodworkers order what they need directly from the local scierie and beams are custom made for your project.

The great room, original ceiling removed

We knew the ceiling planks above the great room were weak and would need to be replaced. After testing the beams and noticing a fair amount of wormholes, we decided to err on the side of safety and install a fresh set of those as well.

Adjusting the new beams for the great room

Steel bars prior to pouring concrete on the porch

It was almost time for Patrick le charpentier-couvreur to get started on the roof. But first, the masons had to come again to pour some concrete on the future porch area so that Patrick could set up his scaffolding all around the house.

Building the roof above the bedroom and bathroom

To frame the roof over the added rooms, Patrick and his team brought in some fermette or what I like to call roof-in-a-kit: the trusses are pre-assembled in triangular panels and lifted up to sit on top of the walls.

In a protected area like ours, roof pitch dictates the type of tile (and the color options) that can be used. For the main body of the house, we chose a tuile à côte universelle, a traditional tile widely used around 1900 on residences and public buildings; for the kitchen and porch where the pitch is shallower, it would be a tuile double canal, a stronger and more water-proof version of the tuile canal typically used in Southern France.

When laying tiles on the kitchen, the roofers used the buddy system: one stayed down and would throw a tile up to his friend who was stationed on the roof. For the roof over the main house (two stories), they would load their green backhoe loader and use it as an elevator.

Timber frame construction with fitted joints for the porch

It was fascinating to see the porch take shape. The oak posts, beams, and rafters were custom-made for our location. Instead of butt joints and nails, the components are shaped to lock-in together with wood pegs holding the fitted joints. These guys still follow the same artisanal techniques that were used centuries ago.

When we left to visit my sister for New Year’s Eve, our house was hors d’eau: all the walls were up and the roof covered. We figured we might only be half-way through the renovation project but, at least, we were getting a pretty good idea of what the house would look like in the end. I think my grandparents would approve.

Missed Episode 1? Read it here.
Read more about This Old House

Vocabulary
Une vraie cuisine: a real kitchen
Le cochon: pig
Le lapin: rabbit
Le maçon: mason
Le béton: concrete
Le rez-de-chaussée: first floor
La porte: door
La fenêtre: window
Le menuisier: woodworker
La scierie: sawmill
Le charpentier-couvreur: carpenter-roofer
La fermette: pre-manufactured scissor trusses
La tuile: roof tile
La côte: hill, rib. In this case, the tile has a rib running down lengthwise to better channel water.
La tuile canal: this tile is shaped like a half cylinder.
La tuile double canal: two-thirds of the tile is shaped like a half cylinder, the other third is flat. Unlike the tuile canal, all tiles are laid out curvy side up.
Hors d’eau: lit. out of water; waterproof. In construction, it refers to the stage where all walls are built and the structure is covered.

DEMOLITION

December 11, 2018

Farmhouse renovation, episode 1

The biggest challenge when tackling a house renovation is choosing what to keep and what to give up, let go, abandon. Finding a way to retain the feeling of the original structure and tweak it to fit the new owners’ lifestyle. On ne fait pas d’omelette sans casser d’oeufs. So, we broke a few eggs…

The house in February, prior to renovation

Our renovation project started many years ago, at least in Rick’s mind. He already had several sketches ready when we approached my aunt’s friend Richard last year. Richard used to be an architect in Great Britain. He and his wife bought and restored an old farmhouse twenty-five years ago; they now live in France year around, 15 miles away from us. Richard got his French architect credentials as well and is fully bilingual: as our maître d’oeuvre, he is the perfect liaison between our tradespeople who don’t speak much English and Rick who is far from fluent in French.

Northeast corner of the main room. French doors will be set into that large opening.

Because my grandparents’ house sits in an area designated as a site protégé, the building permit had to be approved not just by the mairie but also by the Bâtiments de France: they focus on architectural elements to make sure the future construction respects and blends in with the specific heritage of the area. Pitch of the roof, tile design, metal used for gutters, paint color on the shutters, etc. are some of the elements reviewed before the project is approved. I had heard many horror stories about the process but everything went very smoothly for us.

See through! In addition to opening the back side to instal French doors, we also enlarged the old cellar door on the front side. It will lead to the new kitchen.

Our building permit was issued late 2017 and we had hoped the chantier would start in March so we could move in early Fall. Alas, a wet Spring delayed all masonry work in our area and work had not been started when we arrived early July. The updated schedule listed that the demolition work would commence the last week of July; the masons would then take four weeks off in August, as is customary in France; and resume early September.

The first order of business was to create new openings in the old structure. Traditionally, stone farmhouses didn’t have many windows in order to stay warm in winter and cool in summer. There never was central heating in this house and my grandparents chiefly relied on the cantou to heat the main room downstairs. I have vivid memories of carrying a hot brick wrapped in wool to the small bedroom upstairs and placing it between the sheets fifteen minutes going to bed. As much as I enjoyed spending Christmas breaks here, I confess it was hard to get out of bed in the morning: the bedroom was so cold, I would literally see my breath. I could (somewhat) laugh it off when I was eighteen but I’m pretty sure my amusement would be short-lived if I had to do it again.

The masons’ ladder substitutes for the demolished wooden staircase

Since all the wood floors were rotten and had to be removed anyway, we made plans to install “some kind” of heating system (more about this in a future post) and we were anxious to add a few windows in order to bring more light into the rooms. Large chunks of stone were removed and gaping holes appeared on three sides. Once the floor trusses, old parquet, and original escalier were removed, the house looked like a war zone, a shell of its previous self. I emailed pictures to a couple of friends who had visited in prior years and they both asked how hard it was for me to see my beloved house in such a sorry state. Honestly, I did all my grieving last February when we completely cleared out the house. Sure, there was some sadness when the doors were ripped out and the jackhammers brought in but, overall, I could at least maintain a “neutral” state of mind. I knew from the get-go that we would only be able to salvage the walls and the roof trusses.

It’s not easy to get excited about demolition; and yet, breaking stuff sometimes leads to beautiful surprises. I was filled with joy when the masons removed the interior plaster and revealed the stone underneath. We knew the murs de pierre were quite thick but they were completely covered when the house was last renovated in 1940: I had never seen the exposed stone before. And my, are they glorious!

The downstairs bedroom was added in 1967 and never communicated with the great room, as I like to call the one room that served as kitchen, dining and living room when my grandparents were alive; a door opening was created between the fireplace and the old stone sink.

Michel framing the opening between the main room and the downstairs bedroom

We also pretty much demolished grandpa’s shed as it will become an ensuite bathroom.

This used to be the shed; it will be a bathroom. The cistern is to the left.

A door opening was carved into the old cistern: we will use that space as a wine cellar and pantry. The top of the cistern will serve as an elevated terrace, a few steps down from my future office.

Of course, I would need a kitchen… and this could only happen through an extension to the original house. The bobcat had to work extra hard to dig deep enough for the foundations: in that area, the hard rock layer is not far from the surface.

After removing the stone wall on the road side, the masons dug out in front of the old cellar to create the footprint for my future kitchen.

Naturally, we encountered a few setbacks. For instance, we found out that the ceiling of the downstairs bedroom was a foot lower than the ceiling of the main house. The height on some windows needed to be fine-tuned. Adjustments had to be made when walls did not intersect at 90 degrees… I have to say that our masons have been extremely accommodating. Instead of complaining when things don’t go according to plan, they have come to us with different options to work around obstacles. These guys are true craftsmen with years of experience dealing with the idiosyncrasies of old homes, and their owners. They get a kick out of Rick who communicates with them with a little bit of French and a lot of gestures. He spends an inordinate amount of time observing their work, not because of lack of trust but out of genuine curiosity: they just don’t build houses the same way as in the US.

Read more about This Old House before the remodel
Read Episode 2 of the renovation

Vocabulary

On ne fait pas d’omelettes sans casser d’oeufs: one doesn’t make an omelet without breaking some eggs
Le maître d’oeuvre: general contractor
Le site protégé: protected site
La mairie: city hall
Les Bâtiments de France: a government agency that –among other responsibilities_ monitors the harmonious insertion of new construction and renovations into areas protected for their architectural or cultural heritage
Le chantier: construction site
Le cantou: walk-in fireplace
Le parquet: wood floor
L’escalier (m): staircase
Le mur de pierre: stone wall