Epic

I took a hot shower in my own house. It was just this side of scalding. I stayed in a really long time. I used a lot of soap and made up for lost time. There is a reason I did not take a bath. That will be tomorrow. I will also do some dishes. And such.

Three Generations Sunning on the Deck

My bloodline. My rag rug. My hound dog. My house. Life can be pretty flippin' sweet.

Herb Room

This is a crappy picture taken from my cheapo phone, but here is a shot of my new herb room, clean and ready for action. Photo does not show lovely wooden cabinet and shelf unit on the right. May years of good things happen in here.

Stay tuned

Dear readers,
My posts have been rather sparse this spring, on account of many factors, one of which is with the warm weather and much to do in the garden/ farm realm, I have found it more difficult to make time to go to a place where I can do internet work. However, I will be getting a phone line and internet this week, if all goes as planned (and we all know that is a funny thought). I will be able to do my blogging from my new home back up in the cove at convenient hours, like before dawn or after dark. I must say, I have rather enjoyed my honeymoon period on the land without the modern conveniences of internet or running water. It has given me a chance to be more present with life there, and the bold and subtle nuances of the seasons and such. I have had my cell phone, which I have overused, but it has been mostly refreshing to be internet free these past 7 months or so.
Please keep reading, as I plan to continue this blog and hope to be more regular with the posts.

Yours truly,
A strange candidate for blogging

W-W-Work Day

Last weekend's workday accomplishments:


- make coffee for Eduard

- replace 20 ft section of pipe that connects to the ram pump with galvanized steel pipe

- get ram pump up and running again (more efficiently with new pipe!!!)

- clear lumber off of deck

- sweep and mop deck to prepare for spraying hippie spray

- consolidate random stacks of firewood

- clear another small area to expand the garden- pile brush to burn and stack firewood logs from the new clearing

- clean up around massive burn pile

- eat breakfast, lunch and dinner with friends, family and neighbors

- collectively consume a half gallon of M&Ms

- tease Frank

- drink whiskey

- watch Laura drink whiskey

- laugh at farts

- crash out at 9:30




Thank you people. You know who you are. Come over again and just sit a spell.

Yankee visitor?

(Despite the fact that one of my co-workers has suggested multiple times that I name my place "Dead Yankee Farm," I don't really have much beef with yankees. I guess I can't since I am part yank myself- born of a yankee father and raised in North Carolina, my psyche resonates with both, I think. So, when I relay the following story, please know that I identify the "visitor" as a yankee only because of the unique and bizarre nasal quality of the cadence of his voice, of which the hearing composed the entirety of my sensory experience of the man.)

Saturday morning I woke up late; the sun had risen. I stepped outside into pleasant early spring air to stretch and do my morning buisness. After a few moments of adjusting my hearing to the lovely background singing of resident songbirds, I realized that I could hear a human voice in the woods. I stood very still and honed in. The voice was singular, moving, male, and distinctly yankee. It was having a one-sided conversation with pauses, so I quickly deduced that it was speaking into a cell phone. The voice traveled close enough that I could almost decipher individual words, but then it turned and faded. I stood there thinking, what will I do. I have not yet had the experience of someone stumbling upon my little clearing in the woods. My place is at the end of the driveway off the driveway, and I know all the surrounding property owners. It was kind of exciting and curious. Where did the yankee come from? What was he doing? To whom was he talking and about what? Would he be back? Was he lost? I decided after some minutes that I would just carry on, and deal with the yankee only if he emerged from the woods and became visible. He did not.
A short while later, I began to hear gun shots coming from the direction that the yankee's voice had disappeared. I listened for a while. The shots were many and small. I reckoned that it was a .22. I thought to myself: is that yankee up there firing a gun now? The shots were reasonably far enough away that they were likely on a more distant neighbor's territory. My mind got carried away with possibilities. I decided to communicate.
First I hollered out "Who's there?" It was fruitless of course, as the person was firing away and likely too far to hear me. So I put the dog in the camper, pulled out the shotgun, wiped the cobwebs off, got me 2 shells, went outside and fired twice. First was to say: I am here. Second was to say: I am armed. I got the biggest chuckle out of myself.
Let me assure the reader- I was not fearful of the either the yankee or the shots. I mean, to be realistic, they were likely unrelated incidents. Probably the lost cell phone user found his say back to his funny vehicle, and then after a while some local young guy went up to a field off in that direction and got some ya yas out.
But just in case...

It's about ready

The house is almost ready for final inspection. After I get a water heater installed, get the ram pump up and running again (busted pipe, but no biggy), and give the house a big ole deep cleaning, it will be primed for moving in. Hard to believe. Come see me.