FARMHOUSE REPAIR COMPLETED

The "old snag" -- finally down

On our last trip to the farm, Mike left the old pick-up there with half a load of gravel. On our trip yesterday (Wednesday, April 28), he unloaded and leveled the gravel at the low place in the lane. Someone had already smoothed out the washed place.

I was busy at the house. I put the condiments in the fridge, put fresh sheets on our bed, and put away laundry. In touring the yard, I was amazed to see that the rhubarb in the compound was developed enough to pull. I got two quarts.

Mike also managed to complete some simpler tasks. He set up the clothesline and replaced his old alarm clock with a weather station on his bedside stand.

A small load of firewood for town

After lunch, Mike backed the old pick-up into the barn and hefted me into the bed. He then loaded firewood while I stacked it. We started with the pine and then moved to the maple. It was about an hour’s work – just a small load.

About 2:00, the plumber and his apprentice (his wife) arrived. The repair didn’t take him ten minutes. We enjoyed a brief visit and then they were on their way.

 A last photo of the standing snag

At 3:00, another vehicle pulled in – the tree service we hired to take down that old snag in the grove. You see, during the fire debacle of 2015, a hard wind also blew the top out of an old pine in the grove, leaving a standing snag. We sought assistance in taking it down to no avail, but this year Mike suggested maybe a tree service would do it, and the one that cut down our maple tree in town agreed to do it. He brought with him a retired logger who did the actual work. 

Discussion ensued among the men as to where the tree should land – not in the field, not across the grove, but downhill toward the cherry tree. “We can do that,” said the logger as he set to work.

TIMBER!

Now, Mike has to fiddle with his saws to get them to run. “What’s wrong with this sorry ____,” he will say in frustration. Ironically, when the logger went to start his saw, it wouldn’t catch. “What could be wrong with this sorry ____?” he screamed in frustration. “Sound familiar,” Mike asked me. Fortunately, they had a second saw, and before long, the snag was on the ground, lying across the north end of the grove, crushing only the little fir we had transplanted. “So be it,” said Mike.

Beautiful, fragrant pinewood

We had thought the wood would be rotten, but no – it will make great firewood. The logger said that the pitch in them preserves the wood. So – guess what! We have another two lifetimes of firewood yet to be cut, split, stacked, loaded, stacked, and stored. And that’s good because it saves Mike and Ken from having to find wood.

It was another 10,000-step day. We weren’t nearly as tired as we’d been with last week's trip, perhaps because we accomplished so much. Back in town, I warmed leftover pizza for supper and made a rhubarb crisp. KW