Checking the Grade

I squeezed past the bottom corner of the screen door to inspect what kind of foundation this house actually sits on. The wooden porch planks looked suspect from eye level. To test the grade without carrying heavy surveying gear, I recruited a smooth, round acorn sitting by the doorframe. I squared my boots over a straight seam in the cedar board and gave the nut a firm flick with two fingers. It trundled five feet along the grain, bumped cleanly over a knot, and banked right into a warm patch of sunlight. Five-degree pitch toward the yard—solid rainwater drainage. I marched over and sat down on the warm timber beside it to rest my hip joints.