The Key to Wooden Deck Construction is the Right Nail

My wooden deck is celebrating its 15th year, a virtual old man in deck years. A couple of steps are loose. One likes to pop off if stepped on just so. It's not yet a death trap, but it is time to start planning the refurbishment project.

The yard, including the deck, was one of the biggest selling points of our current home. The backyard is shaded with a dozen pines. The trees are surrounded with azalea bushes in two mondo grass borders. The variety of birds attracted is endless. The shade, songs, and breeze combine into a peaceful, idyllic retreat.

I recall making a phone call while sitting on the old deck one beautiful Spring day. The person called could hear the birds singing and commented that it sounded like I was in a peaceful place. I had to agree. My deck provides a solace not often found.

The deck also serves as my captain's walk. I can survey all the mischief my dogs are into from its perch. The daily routine involves releasing the hounds to romp while I enjoy coffee from my wooden vantage. I am not a morning person. I often use the deck rail as my coffee table and creaky-bone support.

This particular morning, I was using the multi-tasking deck rail as exercise equipment. Stretching my bad back against it is convenient because the rail is lumbar-high. After a few good stretches, I was overcome with the dreadful realization that the full weight of my oversized frame was wholly dependent on just a few thin, probably rusty, nails. If those nails gave way, there would be no stopping my fall.

I didn't want to fall, but continued my precarious exercises with full awareness that my well-being hinged on nothing more than a slim, iron spike. Against logic, I trusted the interaction of nail and wood to safely support me. I had no hand in building the deck. I was putting my faith in an unknown carpenter. I had faith he was proficient in his craft to create a secure rail which would support my very life.

The pups scampered up the shaky stairs and my morning stretch ended. I hadn't fallen. The nails in the old man did their job. I was secure and well and felt better for leaning on the man.

I don't know why those nails held. The only answer I can find is a carpenter had the foresight that one day I would do something stupid. He fashioned that deck with nail and wood expecting me to need it one morning. Maybe he knew I would be in pain and use his creation to work out the kinks. Surly he knew his design was the perfect resting place.

There are times we do dumb things like leaning on a rail 5 feet above the ground. Sometimes we make a leap of faith and life works out. A few nails, a few pieces of wood and a good carpenter can combine to create a thing of beauty that saves lives.