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Posts Tagged ‘pond’

We live on close to four wooded acres and our large pond is a very popular spot in this drought, for all manner of wildlife.  To keep our garden from becoming the local salad bar for four-legged critters, husband has fashioned a very cheap cage to cover it. It seems to scare most of the wildlife and, when she was alive, Irritating little chihuahua would not go near it.

He found the pattern online but husband is not real knowledgeable about the internet and probably could not find it again. It’s made of chicken wire over a frame of flexible electrical conduit and it has its own screen door and a seat on the outside. We had it near the house but the Brown County Garden Club came out and built us a raised bed garden to fit in it. It weighs next to nothing for about seven of us to lift and put over the new garden.

Frankly, I see two more of these in our future.  And, thank you so much to the kind people and companies who donated their time and supplies to make our garden successful.

our raised bed garden cage

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Mine grows with watermelons, tomatoes and marigolds all in a row; in October.

I took my morning walk and photography expedition.  Somehow, I just do not think this poor little watermelon will have a chance to grow up.

It’s also raining leaves today. It is very hard to get a picture of the leaves raining against a background of fall colored trees.  Below is a picture of just one part of our pond and the fall colors.  If you look really close in the front right is the board the boys jump off of and into the pond. It’s thirty feet deep in the center.  If you look really, really close on the far left, you will see a white speck. Apparently, someone got tired of standing up, while waiting for the bus. Or, while finding a place with cell, for their phone and drug a chair out by the road.

I’m off now to scan more of the old photo albums.  Although, the house is very quiet so I just might return to my line editing today.  Gaffer is in Santa Fe with girlfriend, EMT boy is off working at a leather store in Nashville, IN (He came home proud of the commissions he made yesterday on his first full day at work there.), and JRockGuitarMan is taking a break from guitar and piano to walk around the auto race track today in his fire gear.  No, it is not an exercise. Apparently they need fully geared firemen in case there is an accident.

Enjoy this beautiful fall weather.

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After much hassle and more money than I ever dreamt any move should cost, we closed on our house November 7, 2003.  I promise this will be the last house post for a while.

As rumor has it, the first owner lived in a trailer, while he built the basement and then moved into that. It had a low sloped peaked roof on it, and a bucket affair for a septic system.

The second owner then built the upstairs, without removing the original roof or replacing the bucket.  We have twelve inches of ceiling, roofing and flooring between the first and second floors.  It is very soundproof, except for the central stairway, and, there is no sneaking around in our house as it has the squeakiest floor on the planet.

We did, when spring broke, get a real septic system, paid for by escrow money.

When, the foundation was put in, there was no gravel added, so the side that is underground, is having wall seepage problems. Mom used to get little rivulets of water down the wall. We got a repair estimate and, ever since, I have been threatening to buy more shovels for our four strapping boy. They are strong and limber and I would not have to take the porch off if they got under there and dug it out.

We had twenty-two separate propane leaks to fix. After the fifth propane leak was found, I called the propane company out. They declared we were leak free.  That was sixteen leaks ago. One set of leaks was because the previous owner built a box around the propane line and then used a nail gun, not on the edges, but right on the middle, to nail the cover on; thus, nailing through the propane line; not once, but twice.  You never saw a disabled man move so fast in your life as when my husband pulled that cover off to check.

The plumbing is another constant battle.  Husband recently fixed the kitchen drain leak for the third time. And, the downstairs bathroom has so many leaks that our water bill has doubled and the bathroom is looking like a permanent site of remodeling.  As the last repair left a square cut out of the bathroom wall and the cut-out piece leans in place.

One leak that has been repaired previously, and he tells me it has “healed itself,” is by the water heater.  I go check and report that the bucket is overflowing again.  And, he says he thought it was fixed. Apparently, he is holding an invisible plumber hostage down there.

Then there is the infamous leak in EMT boy’s bedroom from an original leak that, when husband repaired it, it flooded my mother’s room, right above her computer.  Gaffer and I grabbed empty Rubbermaids and tried to catch the waterfall flowing above mom’s computer station. It was “Abbot and Costello meets Niagra Falls.”  I recently discovered, the hard way, that it is still leaking.  EMT boy’s room had to be dried out, yet again.

 
 

 

The house did not just come with problems either, some were created after we moved in. 
Husband had a good mind, at one time; I think that twenty years of COPD has caused oxygen deprivation, as most intelligent people do not check for propane leaks with a match.

I now have soot on the wall and a large hole from a fire he started in the wall behind the kitchen stove. He has also, when putting shrink wrap on a package (he shrinks my drawings) melted the carpet in one room.

Don’t get me wrong, I love it back home in Indiana. We have four acres and a pond (30 feet deep x 30 feet x 100 feet) and the boys ( we have four living with us now instead of one) use it all summer. Recently, they built a fire pit and use that constantly too. 

The wooded property is beautiful and, each morning I take a walk with Chihuahua, weed, pick vegetables and take pictures. The last thing I do at night is let Chihuahua out, and step outside to listen to the crickets and frogs, and spend a few minutes just staring at the stars and watching the tree tops sway.  

I think, if I lived in a tent, I would be very happy; colder maybe but dryer.

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Disabled husband and Gaffer arrive in Indiana first. He parks in the motel, where we have reserved a room for tomorrow’s closing (HAH!! That’s what he thinks, yet because his cell is not working real well).  He parks and hears a crash.  The back corner floor of the trailer he is pulling, which is loaded with mom’s stuff, just fell down.  It sort of broke out.  Fortunately, nothing inside broke.

 

They went into the motel and got in the pool.  Mom and I arrived later in the day.  I spent the time on the phone trying to deal with what we were going to do; calling, threatening, cajoling.

 

The next day we took everyone to see our “maybe” new home.  As always, it is much smaller than I imagined/hoped. It is truly like 1,100 square feet at most. The walk out basement is finished and fortunately we all agree mom will take it. 

 

She loves the pond out her front door and the trees and birds. She hated Wyoming and missed all the trees and birds that she had in Arkansas, before dad died.  

 

Irritating little Chihuahua jumps out of the van and gives a huge sigh and rolls over and does a Snoopy dog dance/wiggle on her back, in the grass. She has never had grass before; our last yard was sage brush.  We all sigh and get back in the van and start looking for a new house; just in case.

 

One week later: I have reached the point where I told our realtor that he needs to inform their realtor that I will be filing a law suit the next day for not informing us, on the disclosure papers, that there is no legal septic. Amazingly, suddenly we are able to close and the realtor stops to talk to us when we leave the closing. 

 

Keep in mind that I look way up at our big strapping young realtor and I am face to face with the seller’s older scrawny realtor.

 

“I will never work in Brown County again.” Our realtor says.  “The old brother network here is unbreakable and you have to belong to get anywhere.”

 

“I’m sorry I got you involved.” I tell him.

 

“Now that you are closed, I can tell you that he threatened to beat me up.” He says with apprehension in his posture.  “He seriously, called up my office and threatened to beat me up.”

 

“Nah,” I tell him.  “Our realtor can beat up their realtor any day.”

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