I just received a copy of the fall 2007 issue of Vineyard Style Magazine; let's take a peek at page 78:
The story runs onto page 79, a little tongue in cheek since my youngest is 13 and well out of the sandbox stage... here's the entire article and larger illustrations.
Only A Box Of Sand
Story and illustrations by Shennen Bersani
When I first decided to build my kids a sandbox I did what any tech-savvy single mom would do. I Googled.
And then I got a headache.
What in the world were these “design this and build that” web pages thinking. All I wanted was a wooden box with some ordinary sand so my city-bound kids could at least pretend they had a day at the beach once in a while.
I instead found dozens of complicated plans that an MIT student might stutter with, all requiring fancy tools and names of fasteners I never heard of. The rusty toolbox left behind in the wake of disintegrated marriage contained a hammer, a bent screwdriver and a pair of pliers that once closed, needed a whacking with the hammer to open. I have no idea what a worm-drive power saw is and no intention of finding out.
So I tried to think cheap, easy-to-build, and cat-proof. Remember, this project was meant to simulate a day at the beach, not a night in the litter box.
The guys at the big box store were very helpful. They told me that regular framing white spruce stock was the cheapest and the softest wood. I liked that. I would be able to drill easily when I needed to, and sand any rough edges. It might only last five to seven years before rot set in on the bottom, but by then we will be in Palm Beach anyway. Or to be more realistic, in seven years the kids would be long beyond sand boxes as a place of a good time.
My first thought was to reverse-engineer the box in light of the prime directive: Keep Cats Out. The cheapest and easiest lid on the box I thought would be an ordinary tarp. They come in all sizes, so after I surveyed my backyard for a flat spot, 8 feet by 8 feet was the perfect one. This turned out to be a magic number, since 8 x 8 tarps were only a few dollars, and framing spruce in 8-foot lengths – and 8, 10 and 12-inch widths – were standard, pre-cut sizes. I have no desire to pick up a power saw. How hard could it be to secure the lengths to each other and make a square box? If everything were already cut? Not very, I found out. I chose the 12-inch wood so it could hold lots of sand.
I asked the big-box store lumberyard guy if I could drill some small holes at the ends of the stock (so it wouldn’t split) and hammer it home into the other one. He said “good idea,” and called them “pilot holes, and a butt-joint.” I was learning the secret language of the carpenters’ union.
I showed him my little pencil sketch, the one I did on the shut-off notice from the electric company. On the corners of the box, my idea was to place little seats, which would also serve as the place I could easily tie down the tarp. He said, “good idea, that will brace it and keep the joint tight and square.” More secret carpenters’ lingo. He suggested, too, that I build it on my deck where it’s nice and flat, and have someone help me move it to the yard. I said to him, “good idea.”
And so I did. And it was so simple. To assemble the box I only used 12 nails. Since the framing stock is 1.5 inches thick, I drilled (with a tool I borrowed) my three “pilot holes” ¾ of an inch from the ends, 1.5 inches from the top and the same from the bottom, and one right in the middle. Nails and drill bits come in all kinds of sizes. Don’t try to memorize the numbers. Just make sure that your nails are about six inches long (the spiral kinds hold the best) and galvanized so they won’t rust. That way about four inches will “bite” into the butt end. And make sure your drill bit is about half the diameter of the nails. That way the “bite” will be tight, and wood won’t split.
Next put on the seats. The seats don’t need to be the same thickness as the spruce framing stock – though they can. Any one-inch boards, which are only ¾ inch thick (more trade secrets) will be fine. Here’s a trick to make them fit perfectly:
Go to the very point of the box corner and measure out exactly the same distance in both directions. Mark the spot on the outside of the 2 x12. Now place the seat stock on the box so the near side touches both of the marks on the 2 x 12. Look down. Is there just enough room to maneuver your fingers to tie down the tarp? Good. Now, hold the seat stock down, and with a pencil, trace the underside where it meets the 2 x 12. You have now marked it perfectly to be cut at the correct angle. Use it as template for the other three. The guy at the box store or a neighbor will be happy to cut them for you. Or if you want to try a skill saw, give it a shot. Attach the seats using 2-inch nails. You don’t need to bother with “pilot holes.” You will need to drill a hole in each seat in order to tie down the tarp.
Make sure you then sand the whole thing with some rough sandpaper so you have no splinters or sharp ends, especially at the corners.
As for sand, well, I got mine by calling a brick mason who for $50 filled the box with some lovely white stuff that looked as if it came from the Bahamas. But any ordinary sand will do, even from foundation holes. And if you have one of those plastic, five-gallon buckets, it’s easy to scrounge at the beach or some construction site – though you’ll need about 25 buckets.
And then, get set to watch the wonders of the world build the wonders of the world.
Just don’t forget to keep the cats out.
A little artistic license goes a long way...
The kids and surrounding sand were created with colored pencils, I then made a digital box and lawn and plopped them into it. Ryan is here with his youngest sister Kerrin, nine years his junior.
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