Tuesday, July 5, 2016

Goings and Comings

"You sweet thing!" I say to Scott, though he can't hear me. I'm looking through the kitchen window and the half-ton has just passed behind the caragana trees. The back of it is filled with old appliances and junk that was left out in the pasture by the former owners of this property, and I have been reminding Scott for several years that it needs to be hauled away. I've even been willing to hire someone to do it, but he put the kibosh on that because of some trench he'd made out there last year, or because there was electric fence for the cattle, or because ... well, always some reason on top of the fact that he is The Busiest Man in the World.

We bought this acreage in 2009, so it was well past time this job got done and I was thrilled to see it happening, and most grateful.

But then I realized he had loaded all that crap (including a fridge and two stoves) onto the truck by himself. Help was on the way, apparently, as his sister Laurel and her hubby Brett are down from Denare Beach and were on their way over, and Brett's back and muscles had been enlisted. They just weren't quick enough for Mr. Always In A Hurry. He could've come in and got me, but no ... he'd've had to wait for me to get out of my housecoat! Or maybe he thought I'd say Sorry, I'm not going to try lifting that heavy stuff, which would've been the intelligent thing to say. But wait for reinforcements to arrive? Hell no! Silly fella. Strong like ox, yes, but ... lacks patience and a strong sense of self-preservation.

Bye Bye, Garbage!

Laurel and Brett caught me in my housecoat again ("That's nothing new," they said), as Scott hadn't mentioned they were coming over. He'd gone out the door while I was still asleep, so how could he? This is often the case, so it's fortunate that such things don't embarrass me. (Maybe they would if it was 3 p.m.)(But not likely.)

I was sitting out on the step with my coffee, as is my wont on summer mornings when it's warm enough, and he was filling the wheelbarrow with leafy branches pruned from around the house the day before, when he said "There they are" and nodded toward the driveway.

A fresh pot of the black stuff was brewed and we had a visit around the kitchen table before going out to transfer Laurel's wild rice and pork/beef/turkey/spinach/feta (she makes quite a variety) sausages from their coolers to our deep freeze out in the quonset. Then we stood around outside the trucks for another half hour or more, chatting, before they took off down the road.

Scott's sister Laurel and her hubby Brett

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Ralph Goff has left a new comment on your post "Wee Wrens": 
That is a nice birdhouse. When we were kids my grandmother always called those birds "jenny wrens". We grew up thinking that was the correct name. 

And I was eyeballed yesterday by a "jenny wren" looking out from the birdhouse in the oak beside it, too!
Just saw the barn cat in the maple tree — it must be getting curious, now, to come this close — hope it doesn't get the baby birds. They should be safe as long as they're in their homes. We shall see what kind of hunter the cat is. There are all kinds of birds' nests around the yard: robins, catbirds, merlins, red-winged blackbirds, ducks, coots, etc. I'll tell the cat to hunt only rodents, but have alas no faith that it will obey. 

Wisewebwoman has left a new comment on your post "Wee Wrens": 
Sweet birdhouse.

Our kids Gunnar and Melissa gave it to us one year at Christmas. If it was bigger, it looks like the kind of house I'd like to live in!

and there may be more comments below ... which I will reprint beneath my next entry, and reply to.