To prevent dullness

All work and no play would suck, but never fear:

Home improvements

Before the storm Harold was busy building some sort of burial vault that will eventually house the backyard water supply.

The old part of our house (and I do mean old, it was built in 1918/19) had a well in the dug-out that was also a storm cellar.  This well had been discontinued when rural water came available, and rumor has it that our water stank - literally, sulfur in it or something.

Because we went back on a well (this is a l-o-n-g story involving: the local water district, the people who ran it then, haphazard chlorination of water, common water outages when someone 'forgot to switch on the pumps', high costs of water, inconvenience (no auto debit, you had to read the meter and fill in a little card with payment, even if you have used no water, since the meter has been shut off...), and for the final straw the threat of fluoridating the water thanks to a grant from the United Methodist Church - what did I ever do to them?  Again, I am not against making water safe, and chlorine or fluoride is okay, if done right/safely.  But when you sometimes have a higher chlorine level than a public pool (it routinely ate through the brass pump impellers), and other times there is none in the line, then you worry about them being able to handle the fluoridation safely.  Chlorine will evaporate and you can smell it.  Not so when the water is fluoridated; and the difference between okay and a health hazard is the difference between 2 ppm and 4ppm...) we don't use the 'house' water for the garden, not unless it is a wet year.  It is people and pets first, livestock second, and plants fend for themselves, when it comes to water.

The problem is that I have this goldfish pond, and we fill it up with water from a well that we also use for livestock, but it is a hassle to do so.  And we have this well in the backyard, so why not pump that water and fill the fish pond, and maybe even water a flower or two?  So what if the water stinks? (Actually Harold drew some water up with this covered pipe on a rope deal, and the water did not stink, so I have hopes for non-stinky water).

Well, for one thing, wells are not cheap or easy to develop.  I figured we (the royal we, meaning of course Harold) just drop a pump down there, and then water will magically gush out of the ground.

Apparently that is not how this works.

I did not figure that this magic involves wires and concrete and pipes and pressure tanks and pumps and faucets and digging a hole (and putting a nerd in it - okay, that was mean, but it is a 'Simpsons' joke).

Harold is digging the hole.  The pipe in the back is the old well with a new top on it.

Decibel was watching from her special spot.  She climbs up on the ATV all by herself.  It is about as challenging as ascending Mt Everest, she doesn't jump, but climb.  It drives Ralph nuts, because he likes the ATV, (it is some sort of 'truck' to him) but he can't figure out how to get up there.  

She's touching his stuff!

Now I had to do something too, since digging and installing stuff that involves water and electricity isn't my thing (and I didn't want to be in the hole), so I painted three sides of the outhouse...

...then I ran out of paint (although the stuff I was using was old and had the consistency of cream cheese, so 'running out' isn't the right term).  Luckily it is the north side that needs to be painted, not visible from the road.

Before the well and the outhouse, we were working on the front porch:

The columns/posts have been leaning, and the decking had to be replaced.  Demolition was easy:

 Once we (and this time I actually helped!) figured out how to support the roof (note free floating posts above).

 Maggie points out some structural problem.  

 Harold is consulting with Skeeter, but I think there is little help there.

The Thinker

 New joists or whatever the floor support stuff is called.

 Fast forward to floor installed and painted, and the posts set plumb again.  The porch is still blocked off with the soon to be installed lattice, because the oil based floor paint took eons to dry.  We still have not actually set foot on the new porch, not even to take the blue tape off the siding.

Shattered

The good news is that last night we finally got some rain.



And we really needed some.  Above, with my foot for reference is a common (as in we have these all over, same size) crack in the ground.  I have big feet.  And this is AFTER it rained!
Yesterday Harold poured a 5 gallon bucket of water into one of these cracks in the backyard.  You could hear the water gurgling down on its way to China.  These cracks are deep!


The bad news is that some of it came as hail driven by 60 mph winds and thus several adages come to mind:

Don't count your chickens (or apricots)... and the one about crying over spilled milk.  Well, I do cry over that, because milking is hard work, and I think Harold is rather upset about the state of his garden.

"Creamed" corn

Squashed

No watermelon survived

The hail shredded leafy plants and damaged all the fruit.

The apricots were just a few days from harvest, we had even set up the fruit picker and ladder...

The fallen ones were delicious, and WITHOUT worms!

Before the storm (actually side not hailed on)

  Hail damaged side

See all the brown spots, bruises?

Alas, all for nought.  And I was a hair's breath away from sending Harold out for more jars for jams and such.  Nothing better than apricot jelly, it is like eating sunshine.  Well, we still have some from last year, and will have to ration that.

Pommeled peaches

Apples are bruised and leaves shredded

Finally - Global warming... AAAHHHHH!

It is well known that heat is my friend.  I loathe the cold and wear gloves when the temperatures plummet below 50°F (10°C) and I am extremely sensitive to windchill, which can ruin a reasonable 80°F (27°C) for me and make me go for a long-sleeved cover.

So the 'threat' of global warming makes little sense to me, it is like the 'threat of happiness' or fear of wealth.
As a scientist, just by the way, I can point to the fact that warm climates have greater biodiversity, and ice ages have really not done the planet's inhabitants much good.  Even the earth likes it warm.

Cherries earlier this month, ready for picking.

This May we are DONE harvesting strawberries and cherries, and the lilies are blooming!  Okay, so it IS a bit dry and the grass has stopped making headway, because it does need some rain, but you won't hear me complain.  Heck, even the grass is okay for the most part, there will be enough for hay, and beyond that, I'll save a lot of gas not having to mow all the time.

Coming attractions:

Apples

Peaches

And Harold's garden is a recognizable entity this year!

I usually just make fun of his 'efforts' which are heavy on the planning and using the rototillers (yes, plural!), and the purchasing seed parts and then drop off until the biggest weeds are the ones that mark the 'garden'.  Not so this year.  Note there are plants in rows, the potatoes are hilled (we got potatoes!), the peppers and tomatoes are in rows, there are onions, carrots, even sweet corn, squashes, okra, and beans growing in recognizable rows (some are in a second plot in the orchard), and the big weedy stuff in the background is the asparagus that we ate in April.

Oscar Mayer weaners

Because Ruby had been getting lonely after the calves left and the pigs arrived, and because it takes us 18 months or more to raise another steer, we got two weaner (weanling) calves.  Harold promptly named them Oscar and Mayer.

Oscar is a Jersey and Mayer is a shorthorn cross.

Ruby is a lot happier to have cattle company.

Here they all are resting peacefully in the morning sun:

                                                 Wait, what's got Oscar's attention?

 Uh-oh, there comes trouble...

 Because it is her duty as top bitch to be in the lead, Maggie goes to say hello.  She loves to play with the 'big' animals.  

Oh, if it is safe, then the peanut gallery arrives!

 After a moment confusion, Ruby gets up and calls for order.

 While the other dogs hastily retreat, Maggie and Ruby talk it over.

 We'd all rather go swimming anyway...

Choosy Briards choose Jif

There I am cleaning the kitchen and tossing an empty peanut butter jar, thinking, boy, it's about time someone does something around here, when...

...Harold rescues the jar and says, "I was saving that for Decibel!"

Decibel looks at me with accusing eyes.

         MO-OM... 

                                  What was I thinking?

Feel the Noize... and that IS how you spell it

 ...and here's the proof, for those of you who don't know where Quiet Riot got their best material:

Now I know I mentioned it before, but Decibel of course is named for what is important in my (new, retired) phase of life, a combo really, of physics and (really loud) music:
 
Feeling the noise (oops, noize, I mean noize) can be interpreted as detecting/sensing/measuring the noise (sound intensity), and that's physics.  Or you can be old like me and like rock music loud enough to feel it, and that's also about Decibels, as it says in AC/DC's song Decibel ...the history of rock'n'roll.

Makes perfect sense to me.

And Decibel's official name should always have been Feel the Noize.


Now what brought this on?


It's the 5th day of the 5th month, and that means that Decibel has now been with us for two full years.  That is a joyous occasion and I celebrate it just because I like to.  The young lady has matured, of course, but she is still my sunshine girl, making me smile:


...when she gets her smooches in the morning.  See face above, pretty irresistible, right?
...when she picks up a huge bone and prances around so proudly that she promptly trips over the big red ball in front of her.
...when she ecstatically crunches an empty flowerpot. (Later I found out it hadn't exactly been empty when Decibel found it, oops, but the little squash plant got rescued in time, never fear).
...when she needs a hug.


...when she wants to play

 ...when she finds something more interesting to do

...when she helps (even by supervising)

AND best of all, when Harold claims that Decibel got me the SLADE CD as a Cinco de Mayo present.