Look outside. It's January, nearly February.
Where's the snow?
We've had seperate snowfalls of barely an inch, twice, this winter.
And it's all my fault.
I bought a snowblower. Yup, a nice Honda two-stage number with electric start, plenty of horsepower and kung-fu grip.
And it has not snowed since.
Well, maybe our making a mockery of this planet had something to do with it...
Monday, January 29, 2007
Tuesday, May 23, 2006
Wild Wild Life
The neighborhood and our surroundings are multiple shades of green again – the trees have sprouted their buds and opened into leaves, the grass – depending on the owner’s attention to detail and/or ability to hire the Lawn Wranglers – has bounced back to its usual hue, and plants are sprouting out of gardens everywhere.
It’s invigorating to see all this renewal. In spite of everything we’ve done and are doing to our poor planet, the cycle of life continues -- or at least it tries. It reminds us what we have to lose if we keep poisoning our atmosphere and our oceans.
As for our yard: I’ve been trying to repair the damage done out front over the winter, when the tree in the front yard fell, and in back, where the grubs feasted late last summer. The seeds have finally started to take hold and peek up from under the straw I put down. I’d hope so by this point; they sure got enough rain.
Along with the flora, we have fauna.
We’ve noticed since moving here that there are quite a few animals sharing our property with us. There’s a big family of squirrels that sprints through the canopy along the side and back perimeter of the yard. They did OK this winter – one we spied taking a rest on one of our daughter’s toys was big enough to feed a family of four. When it rained hard here a few weeks ago, their warren must have flooded out, because Michelle saw them carrying their babies in their mouths to safety.
Also on the scene: chipmunks. They’re cute, too, but they’ve dug up part of the front yard. I’m willing to let it go, especially when they let us take pictures like this.
And then there’s Flick.
Michelle noticed Flick and his girlfriend last year and looked them up. Turns out they’re Yellow-Shafted Northern Flickers, a breed (apart) of woodpecker.
Northern Flickers are common throughout North America. They build nests in trees up to 90 feet in the air. They find ants delicious. Here’s more:
But Flick isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
Michelle heard a jackhammer noise the other day and had no idea where it was coming from. Were they working on the next road over? Was it the home addition going up down the street? She followed the noise to the back yard .. where she found Flick, attempting to drill through the lid of our gas grill. You can see it here … the quality isn’t the greatest, but wait for the payoff at the end, where you’ll hear his call and see (and hear) his attempt to drill through steel.
Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing
When it rained and we put a cover over the grill, he tried the same thing on our roof.
It’s invigorating to see all this renewal. In spite of everything we’ve done and are doing to our poor planet, the cycle of life continues -- or at least it tries. It reminds us what we have to lose if we keep poisoning our atmosphere and our oceans.
As for our yard: I’ve been trying to repair the damage done out front over the winter, when the tree in the front yard fell, and in back, where the grubs feasted late last summer. The seeds have finally started to take hold and peek up from under the straw I put down. I’d hope so by this point; they sure got enough rain.
Along with the flora, we have fauna.
We’ve noticed since moving here that there are quite a few animals sharing our property with us. There’s a big family of squirrels that sprints through the canopy along the side and back perimeter of the yard. They did OK this winter – one we spied taking a rest on one of our daughter’s toys was big enough to feed a family of four. When it rained hard here a few weeks ago, their warren must have flooded out, because Michelle saw them carrying their babies in their mouths to safety.
Also on the scene: chipmunks. They’re cute, too, but they’ve dug up part of the front yard. I’m willing to let it go, especially when they let us take pictures like this.
And then there’s Flick.
Michelle noticed Flick and his girlfriend last year and looked them up. Turns out they’re Yellow-Shafted Northern Flickers, a breed (apart) of woodpecker.
Northern Flickers are common throughout North America. They build nests in trees up to 90 feet in the air. They find ants delicious. Here’s more:
But Flick isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.
Michelle heard a jackhammer noise the other day and had no idea where it was coming from. Were they working on the next road over? Was it the home addition going up down the street? She followed the noise to the back yard .. where she found Flick, attempting to drill through the lid of our gas grill. You can see it here … the quality isn’t the greatest, but wait for the payoff at the end, where you’ll hear his call and see (and hear) his attempt to drill through steel.
Video Hosting - Upload Video - Video Sharing
When it rained and we put a cover over the grill, he tried the same thing on our roof.
Tuesday, January 24, 2006
Home Improvement
January brought changes to the homestead -- some more subtle than others.
Early this month, the wet snow and ice storm took out the tree in the front yard. It came down with a crack at about 7 a.m., falling just short of the house.
"I was going to hang the hummingbird feeder on that tree," Michelle said.
Our neighbor Bob was nice enough to come over the next morning with a couple of bowsaws and a chainsaw, and we made short work of things. Later I bought some nippers to cut the branches into smaller segments, and they'll eventually go for a ride to the town compost heap, now that we have the truck running again.
The heavy wet snow also made me think about the trees that provide such a lush, shady spot for our house .. the same trees that now hung over the house weighed down with snow, looking like cotton ready for harvest.
Add to to-do list: have trees cut down.
That same storm kept the electricity off for about, oh, 12 hours. Now I know conditions made things difficult for our friendly neighborhood electric utility, but half the neighborhood had power about two hours before we did. Turns out the neighborhood is on two separate portions of the grid.
And for what we pay CL&P per month, well... let's just say they have infrastructure issues.
Needing to stay warm when it got cold and dark, we used the fireplace for the first time.
So you're from the Berkshires and you think you know what you're doing, eh, Mr. Frontiersman? Mr. I Grew Up In The Woods?
For about half an hour, the only thing I was able to get burning was newspaper.
Finally, the logs the former owners left behind for us caught, and we had a nice, cozy fire.
Either the fire was too big or I didn't have enough of an updraft going, because for more than a week afterwards, the living room smelled of smoke. This is charming on a cold day when a fire is roaring away, keeping people warm and drying out gloves and boots. This is annoying a week later when you're tired of living in a barbecue pit.
So yes, we're so much smarter and more advanced than our forebears in the 19th century. Who lived without electricity and knew how to set a fire.
A Little Sumpthin' Sumpthin'
If the house wasn't freezing, on fire or in imminent danger of being crushed by overloaded trees, it was going to float away. Another strong rainstorm came along and filled the sumphole with water, requiring us to go downstairs every half hour to manually set off the sump pump that couldn't suck enough.
When another forecast of one-to-two inches of rain came along I decided I'd had enough. Called a plumber and had them come over look at the thing. Figured it would take a few hundred bucks and a few small repairs to get things where they needed to be.
Ha!
We needed a new sump pump, an entirely new hole, and oh yes, electrical work. Becuase all this time the old pump was plugged into an ungrounded outlet. Yes, that was me, manually operating a sump pump sitting in a pit full of water plugged into an ungrounded outlet. I was begging for a 120-volt quick pick-me-up and didn't even know it. Swell.
So Chuck the plumber came in with his jackhammer and brand new sump pump and one and a quarter inch PVC pipe and got to carving up the basement floor.
It was not a few small repairs and it was not a few hundred bucks. You could say I put my money in a hole in the ground.
But that afternoon when it poured as forecasted, that pump kicked on every five minutes and did its business in about 5-10 seconds. The peace of mind was entirely worth it. Because flooding the basement again was not an option.
Now if I can just figure out how we'll run the sump pump when the power goes out...
Early this month, the wet snow and ice storm took out the tree in the front yard. It came down with a crack at about 7 a.m., falling just short of the house.
"I was going to hang the hummingbird feeder on that tree," Michelle said.
Our neighbor Bob was nice enough to come over the next morning with a couple of bowsaws and a chainsaw, and we made short work of things. Later I bought some nippers to cut the branches into smaller segments, and they'll eventually go for a ride to the town compost heap, now that we have the truck running again.
The heavy wet snow also made me think about the trees that provide such a lush, shady spot for our house .. the same trees that now hung over the house weighed down with snow, looking like cotton ready for harvest.
Add to to-do list: have trees cut down.
That same storm kept the electricity off for about, oh, 12 hours. Now I know conditions made things difficult for our friendly neighborhood electric utility, but half the neighborhood had power about two hours before we did. Turns out the neighborhood is on two separate portions of the grid.
And for what we pay CL&P per month, well... let's just say they have infrastructure issues.
Needing to stay warm when it got cold and dark, we used the fireplace for the first time.
So you're from the Berkshires and you think you know what you're doing, eh, Mr. Frontiersman? Mr. I Grew Up In The Woods?
For about half an hour, the only thing I was able to get burning was newspaper.
Finally, the logs the former owners left behind for us caught, and we had a nice, cozy fire.
Either the fire was too big or I didn't have enough of an updraft going, because for more than a week afterwards, the living room smelled of smoke. This is charming on a cold day when a fire is roaring away, keeping people warm and drying out gloves and boots. This is annoying a week later when you're tired of living in a barbecue pit.
So yes, we're so much smarter and more advanced than our forebears in the 19th century. Who lived without electricity and knew how to set a fire.
A Little Sumpthin' Sumpthin'
If the house wasn't freezing, on fire or in imminent danger of being crushed by overloaded trees, it was going to float away. Another strong rainstorm came along and filled the sumphole with water, requiring us to go downstairs every half hour to manually set off the sump pump that couldn't suck enough.
When another forecast of one-to-two inches of rain came along I decided I'd had enough. Called a plumber and had them come over look at the thing. Figured it would take a few hundred bucks and a few small repairs to get things where they needed to be.
Ha!
We needed a new sump pump, an entirely new hole, and oh yes, electrical work. Becuase all this time the old pump was plugged into an ungrounded outlet. Yes, that was me, manually operating a sump pump sitting in a pit full of water plugged into an ungrounded outlet. I was begging for a 120-volt quick pick-me-up and didn't even know it. Swell.
So Chuck the plumber came in with his jackhammer and brand new sump pump and one and a quarter inch PVC pipe and got to carving up the basement floor.
It was not a few small repairs and it was not a few hundred bucks. You could say I put my money in a hole in the ground.
But that afternoon when it poured as forecasted, that pump kicked on every five minutes and did its business in about 5-10 seconds. The peace of mind was entirely worth it. Because flooding the basement again was not an option.
Now if I can just figure out how we'll run the sump pump when the power goes out...
Thursday, November 24, 2005
Thanksgiving in Farmington, CT
Woke up yesterday morning to the sight of snow falling steadly outside our windows. Except here, the plow comes regularly .. back in Quincy it requires a Biblical snowstorm to get a plow on a side street the same day. If at all.
The folks came down from the Berkshires and up from New Jersey and we had a nice meal, with everyone's attention on how much my daughter has learned and grown in the past year or so. Because we're here and not near Boston, we're closer to those family members and already we've seen them more than we did in five years there.
It was a lovely meal, but it was also a lovely day, even with the snow and LemonTruck deciding it was time for the gear box to die.
I thought a lot about this holiday on two fronts.
First, its historical meaning and significance.
The source of the T-Day myth comes from two paragraphs -- one in a pamphlet published in 1622 titled "Mourt's Relation," another from "Of Plymouth Plantation," the diary/memoir written by Mass. Bay Colony Gov. William Bradford. That's it: two paragraphs relating to a feast of some sort to which Massasoit and about 90 native americans were invited.
For one group, it was the end of the beginning. They had endured horrible hardship, seen half of their number perish, and yet made it through. They were going to survive.
For one group, it was the beginning of the end. These white settlers who had arrived on their shore a year ago were going to stay, and more like them would arrive. They had guns, they had germs for which there was no resistance, they had plans fueled by religious fervor and the machinery of the mercantile system and their own dreams.
Within a generation or two, the two sides that came together for a feast in 1621 were fighting King Phillip's War, a guerilla conflict in which scorched earth policies and collateral damage were the rule, not the exception. Its scars persist.
On a day when Americans are thankful, the price that was paid by all involved -- espescially those from whom much was taken -- is worth remembering.
Second point: About year ago, a PBS series called "Colonial House" aired. In it, Americans from the 21st Century were sent to live in a 17th Century colonial village. They didn't fare so well, but that was besides the point: In their struggle, I saw my own struggle to find a place where my family could afford to live happily and safely, where I could make a good living, where my daughter could play and grow and thrive. It resonated. And it upset me to some degree because like the would-be settlers, I was having a hard time succeeding at my goal.
So a year later, to be here and realize that which seemed so far away has come true .. well, I have much to be thankful for. And so celebrating over a hearty meal with family and friends... it felt good.
We are indeed blessed.
The folks came down from the Berkshires and up from New Jersey and we had a nice meal, with everyone's attention on how much my daughter has learned and grown in the past year or so. Because we're here and not near Boston, we're closer to those family members and already we've seen them more than we did in five years there.
It was a lovely meal, but it was also a lovely day, even with the snow and LemonTruck deciding it was time for the gear box to die.
I thought a lot about this holiday on two fronts.
First, its historical meaning and significance.
The source of the T-Day myth comes from two paragraphs -- one in a pamphlet published in 1622 titled "Mourt's Relation," another from "Of Plymouth Plantation," the diary/memoir written by Mass. Bay Colony Gov. William Bradford. That's it: two paragraphs relating to a feast of some sort to which Massasoit and about 90 native americans were invited.
For one group, it was the end of the beginning. They had endured horrible hardship, seen half of their number perish, and yet made it through. They were going to survive.
For one group, it was the beginning of the end. These white settlers who had arrived on their shore a year ago were going to stay, and more like them would arrive. They had guns, they had germs for which there was no resistance, they had plans fueled by religious fervor and the machinery of the mercantile system and their own dreams.
Within a generation or two, the two sides that came together for a feast in 1621 were fighting King Phillip's War, a guerilla conflict in which scorched earth policies and collateral damage were the rule, not the exception. Its scars persist.
On a day when Americans are thankful, the price that was paid by all involved -- espescially those from whom much was taken -- is worth remembering.
Second point: About year ago, a PBS series called "Colonial House" aired. In it, Americans from the 21st Century were sent to live in a 17th Century colonial village. They didn't fare so well, but that was besides the point: In their struggle, I saw my own struggle to find a place where my family could afford to live happily and safely, where I could make a good living, where my daughter could play and grow and thrive. It resonated. And it upset me to some degree because like the would-be settlers, I was having a hard time succeeding at my goal.
So a year later, to be here and realize that which seemed so far away has come true .. well, I have much to be thankful for. And so celebrating over a hearty meal with family and friends... it felt good.
We are indeed blessed.
Subscribe to:
Posts (Atom)