But not extensive. At the end of the easement.
Stopped by Heath's place on the way back from town Sunday to reintroduce myself. Long story short: he's given me full access to his micro forest to cut whatever fuel I need. Which means not only will that get me through till Tom gets his beans out of the east field so I can get to the mother load along his creek line, but there's another neighbor who gives a shit who doesn't need to be the least bit generous and yet is anyway.
Good day.
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Weather heading your way. Gorgeous today. Firewood tomorrow. Hi Moonpie.
She's currently staking out a mole hill under the apple tree, where she's been all afternoon.
This weather is a cruel blessing. I love it, but man is it hard to stay indoors working on insulation and shelves.
I had a rare talk with my neighbors last weekend. My lot is a little irregular back-filled thing that borders a narrow strip of woods in the back. It's nice, because there's a stream down there and the owners on that side can't develop anything within a good hundred or two yards of us for reasons of flood control and/or wetlands protection. Sometimes wildlife wanders down the "greenbelt" from other places. The line itself is a half-buried old New England stone wall, mostly below the bank, and within it for a stretch. It leaves me with a rectangular suburban lawn area, and an oddly-shaped down-below section in back: one triangle that is a weedy bank bounded by an old wall that is buried in spots, and one that is a hidden little pocket of woods which is (now) a nice spot to hide and have a campfire.
Over the last few months, I've been putting up a fence around the first triangle, so I can let my small idiot dogs out without getting eaten by coyotes. The part right along the stone wall got going last weekend. It's coming along nicely, actually, because I'm pulling out and reassembling all the fallen and buried rocks (imagine putting fence posts along one of these things!), making the whole bank area look natural, but also kind of intentional.
This is of course what draws out the neighbors. It was like the Robert Frost poem, except that they're are even bigger passive-agressive jerks than that guy. And they didn't help, not that I'd ask them, even if it made sense to. (These fuckers conveniently surveyed the line for me last year, and put up some bright red posts and string, pissed that some raked leaves had come down the bank and drifted over the wall into the woods. Another reason for the fence.)
So it's really cool that your neighbors aren't total jackoffs like mine are.
Meant to reply to your comments earlier, which I've been thinking a lot about. Been pretty busy though.
Like that other Robert Frost poem, I should have said. (Among the ten other things that'd've made the comment something like readable.)
It was readable K. In my job I often listen to people as they tell the most ridiculous stories about their neighbors that you've ever heard. Example- I need you to install extensions on my downspouts so I can point the rainwater at my neighbor's yard. Here's the lot line, and I want the extension to stop just short of that. (But your neighbor's yard will flood)- Well look at his extensions. They point right at my yard. Every time it rains I get the runoff from my own gutters, plus the stuff he shoots over here. (So, you want to put your water on his yard because he's putting his water on your yard?) Right! (Have you considered asking the guy to remove his extensions and keeping his water in his yard and you can just keep your water in your yard?)- Nah, I haven't talked to the guy since he moved in 6 years ago. (rarely talking with the neighbors seems to be the rule rather than the exception) I hear this sort of shit all the time. Never ceases to amaze me.I'd expect people to put forth a little extra effort to get along with the people living in the house right next door, just to keep things operating smoothly in the hood, but instead, they treat neighbors worse than they treat perfect strangers who need to merge into traffic. Oh no...by all means...after you.
We talked to the guy next door about the fence (really needed to make sure we agreed on its placement) for the first time in years, and he was pleasant enough.
In back, there are several people. New lady wandered over just to say hi, and that was cool too. The other guy (with the leaves) really is kind of a jackoff. A number of passive-aggressive moves like that one over the years, and yet he has obnoxious parties in back every single Friday. In his case, the fence is win-win: separation for us, and I am cleaning up his view for bocce night.
Frost huh? Would you believe I never knew where "good fences make good neighbors" came from despite hearing it several billion times?
Man, you weren't kidding about the weather change. Meanwhile, Keif's gonna be boarding up the windows.
I think my mom's been wandering around the place knocking over boxes of books, her way of saying get started on the shelves already, you pud. I'm sure it's not my haphazard stacking method.
By the way, I really appreciate hearing about projects you guys have going on. Makes me feel needed. How so, you may ask? Well, because you know I'm ever and always behind the 4 ball as to the weather, so I'm ever and always holding back wind and water with a free foot, sometimes literally. I like to listen. People need to talk. I have high standards. What I guess I mean to say is that you guys in very real ways are here helping. I'd like to think perhaps there's some vice versa. Presumptuous, sure.
Stone walls rule, Keif. I adore the fact that, from what I can tell, your property has various "rooms". Right now my property has one room: a giant crap-filled shed. But I'd like to think I have time, and an ever-changing plan, sometimes the best kind.
Oh, and my Rush ruminatings have reached 8 pages. I'll edit that down so I don't break your server.
It's not the haphazard stacking method. Get started on the shelves you pud. A)- You'll be more organized. B)- The place will be more homey. C)- No more haphazardly stacked stacks of books. More room to move.
Can't speak for Keifus, but I stop by this blog to say hi to the dog. Since she doesn't speak my language, I need an interpreter. And that's you.
Neighbors. One of ours (a family since in witness protection, I think, cause he was a sort of famous fraudster locally), had a donkey for a long time named Fleur. One of his chickens found our house on Yom Kippur, and in the most bizaare episode, an emu escaped and made its way to our lawn, where we were asked to "keep it" until they could get it. How does one keep a six foot tall bird with prehensile claws? Carefully, dude. Carefully. They showed up with a bucket of feed (and in riding boots, I kid you not), and led Big Bird back across the lawn to their place. Did I mention to you I live in the limits of the City of Philadelphia? So strange.
P.S. I knew Ben Folds was a poet. I didn't know, or wasn't aware, that his musicianship approached brilliance. I feel stupid. (Stupider.)
He's got a lot of roiling energy in that there piano of his. Keeps the sound from wandering off in other directions. It's like the id and the ego.
I was actually brewing a response to the Hoover dam thing (but very interested in the rest too). I've been planting that shovel like a motherfucker though, and I'm just pooped.
(I like the stones and the idea of rooms too. We've really just tried to make the most of what we could get is all.)
Just realized that you replied to the Armstrong post 2 months ago. Sorry pal. I think I'll start paying a little more attention to my blog.
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