I might have mentioned we're getting shit-tons of snow. As evidenced by the Evil Overlord Snowman post. (A shit-ton, by the way, is a very official unit of measure.)
Well, we got even more snow, and this time my husband determined that we would make an igloo. Apparently making an igloo has been a life-long dream of his (especially when he was little), but somehow he and his cohorts never managed it. The best they managed was a system of snow tunnels back in the winter of like '92 when, if you were short enough, the snow piled up over your head.
(I did rather intend to continue writing about writing this week, but it isn't often, or, uh, ever, that I have an igloo to talk about, so circumstances led to a Snowy post rather than a Writerly post.)
Nigel googled the secrets of making a successful igloo, and we sacrificed the three beer boxes we happened to have in our home to become snow-brick molds. (And we almost had to make a beer run in order to obtain another brick mold. Our last one died just before we managed the roof, but we improvised).
So, without further ado, here are the pictures that documented the progress. Nigel (my husband) was the brick maker and mortar shoveler. I was the brick placer, mortarer, and documenter of the process. As the documentarian, it might appear as though Nigel is doing all the work. I assure you, that was not the case.
Two brick layers down.
Starting to shape up nicely. (This was the end of Day One.)
The precarious, pre-mortared brick (see, I did serve a function).
This is on Day Two.
Onto the third box. Brick-making is hard on cardboard boxes.
The next precarious layer.
Before the entrance is complete, from the inside out.