Poseidon's Oven---Non-fiction

This is the story of Pete realising one of his dreams – to build an outdoor oven. When it came time to prepare the slab he engaged the help of our son, Ashley, who borrowed his father-in-law’s ageing cement mixer.

The reason for calling the story Poseidon’s Oven will become clearer towards the end of the story, but today this is only part one. In the first photo you can see the roots that were such a problem in Pete’s effort to prepare a site for his project.

Note in the top photograph the many, many roots in the dirt, and the block of cement he encountered which we figured out was the base of an old rotary clothes host. In the past they must have moved the clothes hoist to make way for the children’s cubby house.

                                                      POSEIDON’S OVEN

Pete had occasionally talked about building an outdoor oven. It seemed to me a prospect too good to be true, but towards the end of two thousand and nine, he began concerted preparations. First he searched the Internet for instructions, weighing up the odds amongst what was offered.

Finally he decided on a plan. Choosing the instructions offered by a gentleman called Rado Hand, who lived in another part of Brisbane, he discussed his ideas with me. Rado offered finely detailed drawings, and well over1000 photographs. He’d built several ovens of different sizes and styles. I loved them and supported Peter 100%. Rado obviously loved his hobby and required only a donation for the use of his plans.

Then the day came to choose a site in the backyard. Clearly we would need to remove some trees. The next time my farmer-brother visited, he brought his chainsaw and cut down all our golden cane palms and other small trees from the back corner of the yard. He also helped to remove an old weathered, timber, children’s cubby house. We took away trailer loads of green waste to be recycled at the tip, before Pete could start digging a square for the foundation slab. The largest of the trees he’d had to remove was a huge triangle palm with what turned out to be an extensive root system.

 

The digging would have been easy except for those roots. While not huge individually, they were notable for their extensive number. By the time the square was dug out, Pete had two large piles of what looked like thin sticks, but was those pesky roots. They had been like an underground cobweb. At the same time he constructed boxing out of the old cubby house boards ready for the concrete to be poured.

The project was started in November, which is teetering on the brink of an Australian summer. Choosing a weekend to take advantage of having our son to assist, was a good plan, but as it turned out, a hot choice. Ashley brought his father-in-law’s very tired cement mixer, and conveniently chose a patch for himself in the shade to man it.

Our house is long and narrow as is the backyard, and of course the coolest shade is at the eastern end where the house itself casts some shade; and some remaining trees added shelter. In fact the only shade that day was at that end, and of course the site for the oven was at the western end. Never one to enjoy working in the elements, our son complained long and loud about the heat, while his father trudged backwards and forwards from one end to the other all day with a wheelbarrow of freshly mixed concrete.

To make matters worse for the hapless help, old father fate stepped in again by complicating matters further. As soon as Ashley shovelled in enough of the small stones and gravel with the cement powder and water, the weight was too much for the aged mixer and it stopped dead, requiring him to turn the drum by hand. 

The work went on for hours, as Pete tipped load after load of soft concrete onto the chosen site. Gratefully, by mid-afternoon, the men reached the stage where they could level off the slab with a long board. Aching in all joints and muscles, father and son stood up at last and admired the finished job.

Pete couldn’t believe it; his long awaited project was becoming a reality. But so much work remained to be done that too much thinking about it was almost overwhelming.