Her husband, Tom, had always said, “We’ll fix it next spring.” But next spring came and went three times before he left—not just the shed, but her, too.
Each hit felt like a small declaration.
“I know,” she said.
The old nails fought her. One snapped. Another buried itself in her glove but missed skin. She pried off the last rotten board and saw daylight through the frame. For a moment, she felt like a fraud—this was Tom’s job, not hers.
But it was standing. And so was she.
Now it was her spring.
She held the first new sheet against the wall. It was unwieldy, wanting to tip, wanting to win. She used a scrap 2x4 to lever it into place, checked it with a level (slightly off—adjusted), then drove the first nail through the groove where the next sheet would hide it. installing t1-11 siding
Back home, she propped the first sheet against sawhorses. The groove pattern ran vertically—simple, rustic, honest. She’d watched four YouTube videos the night before: how to remove old siding , how to mark studs , how to nail without swelling the wood . Her thumbs were already sore from squeezing the caulk gun.