Living Small Part 2: The Timber Frame

Timber frames are usually associated with days gone by—they have an aged look about them. Squared timbers connected with intricate joinery held in place by wooden pegs seem to exude the scent of antiquity. They should, because they are. Our most familiar mental images of timber frames come from the centuries old “half timber” buildings still gracing Europe and “Amish barn raisings” where communities hoisted the massive cross-sectional “bents” into position. A timber frame thoughtfully designed and built may well be the consummate blend of form, function, strength, and beauty. From the first time I ever laid eyes on one, I knew I had to build a timber frame.

But, where do you begin? As I recall, the recipe for chicken soup begins: “First, catch a chicken.” Similarly, so it is with timber framing: First, get timbers. If you want to find 8”x8” timbers to turn into posts (vertical timbers) and beams (horizontal timbers), Home Depot doesn’t quite cut the mustard. If you take pleasure doing things yourself, buying a band saw mill is one option. I bought a very basic sawmill; hydraulics do not move the logs—you do. If you decide to follow a similar path, cancel your gym membership; workouts are now free.

Crafting joints that hold beams together is the most cerebral, time-consuming, and challenging task. Large mortise and tenon joints are used to connect 8”x8” primary timbers while dovetail joints connect the smaller 6”x6” floor and ceiling joists. One of a timber frame’s most distinct features is the diagonal braces that provide both strength and symmetrical beauty—Pythagoras and his theory are definitely your friends as you do the math for cutting these joints. It took many months prior to building the foundation to cut our frame. I used a mix of traditional and contemporary tools for this frame—3” wide chisels (slicks) worked alongside electric planers, drills, and saws. Since you do not pick up three-hundred pound square oak timbers and set them on stationary tools, more often than not you bring the tools to the timbers and work from there. Things begin to really make sense once you start assembling the bents. If you think of a timber frame as a skeleton, the bents are the skeletal parts that interconnect to support all the others. They are also the first parts assembled as you prepare for raising the frame.

Raising even a small timber frame such as ours is unforgettable. It is the culmination of hundreds of hours of work. Lifting thousand pound bents into position and hoisting the interconnecting timbers into place produces heart pounding moments of excitement. It also requires help. Six friends from church—and one knuckle boom—assisted in our raising. As the bents are raised, it becomes an ultimate test of your measurements and calculations as the beams are joined. Unfortunately, the remnants of hurricane Ernesto also attended our raising and it rained off and on most of the day. The moisture caused a few of the wood joints to swell and required some last minute paring with the slick to fit properly. Everyone was so motivated that even the intermittent rain didn’t dampen spirits. The first two bents were assembled by noon after which we followed the traditional practice of providing a hearty lunch for the crew.

As the sun set and shadows lengthened, almost 11 hours after we began, the frame was assembled. We covered it with a huge tarp for protection from the rain and breathed a collective sigh of relief and satisfaction. The timber frame now stood upon the stone foundation, just where it belonged. What a day.

“For every house is built by someone, but God is the builder of everything” (Heb. 3:4). This must be one of the most simple, yet profound verses in all of scripture—when you see a house, you know there is a builder; when you see creation, you know there is a Creator. The Hebrews passage develops this thought even further: “But Christ is faithful as the Son over God’s house. And we are his house” (Heb. 3:6). This is one of several metaphoric descriptions in scripture where God’s people are being built into a spiritual house. This imagery is especially poignant if you live in a home built with your own two hands. When I walk through our little timber frame, I can point to a timber and tell you a story. I can point to a wooden peg and tell you another. There is nothing impersonal here. There is even a beam where my own blood was shed. So too it is in God’s house. My blood was shed by accident; His out of love.

Recommended Resource: Ted Benson; Building the Timber Frame House: The Revival of a Forgotten Craft