I stopped over at the farm to steal some well-rotted chicken manure. You know it's matured when I've got 4 buckets in the back seat and I (of the super-sensitive nose) can't smell anything! I've got to start thinking things through ahead of time though. Shovelling in slip-on shoes with no support always messes up my ankle.
This old barn is the treasure trove of chicken leavings. I wish my dad had done maintenance back when it was salvageable. Now that the roof is mostly decayed away, it's too late and they couldn't afford the fortune it would eat up.
Happier news: we put the roof vent in over the louvre window and finished the door support. Hooray!!!! My part is done.