I didn’t buy piles of wood boards and I didn’t find a way to haul them back to my home. I didn’t ask for help, I didn’t want any help to begin with. If I’m being realistic, I wouldn’t even be able to build a deck.
First reason being that I have no carpentry skills, and I don’t think building a sword replica out of wood sheets as soft as pillows counts for anything. Second, I live in a second-story apartment. These factors make for a deck-lacking version of myself.
Today I built a deck in my mind. I laid all the decking down and drilled the boards into place. I sawed off the excess to create a rounded finish like the curvature of a skull. The deck faces a forest of eternal trees, wide and tall trunks pressed close together, sun soaked foliage in masses toward their peaks. Everything was green and calm.
Everything was alive. It spoke to me, the way nature does, through wisps of wind and dancing pollen. The deck had no rail, so I built one. The rail is curved to match the deck, with recycled branches as banisters. It’s so beautiful, if only you could see it. The deck that faces the trees.