August 19th, 2011

humped zebra


Well, I almost made it out the door for Wilderstead this morning before the latest crisis found me. The needs of others press closely upon me today.

EDIT: Crisis has moderated. I'm outta here before something else catches me.
wayside cross

Stairway to heaven

Last time we were both at Wilderstead (some time this summer, but too much has happened for me to remember just when), Deanne expressed a wish for a handrail to get in and out of the cabin with. Her wish is my command, so . . .

I boogied out of here about 11:00 o'clock this morning and arrived at the holler before 2:00. It only took an hour and half to knock this baby together. That includes repairing the power cable on my circular saw, which the tiny mousies ate up some time in the past.* I was originally more worried that my generator wouldn't fire up (I haven't run it in close to two years, I think), but it worked like a champ.

I made the handrail detached so that I wouldn't have to do major attachment surgery on the fabric of the cabin (or try to dig postholes in gravel). And, if we have to open the french doors wide and wrestle big things in and out, I can just move the handrail out of the way. Next time I'm out yonder, I need to do some scraping and touch-up painting on the doorway trim, so I figure I'll prime and paint the handrail in between digging a mammoth hole in the ground over at the homesite. (Should I paint it Chive, the trim color, or Hat Box Brown, the cabin color?)

After putting my tools away, I messed around the cabin for a while and rested up. Then it was Yoicks! and away for E-ville.

Watch your step Watch your step

*The mice that were nesting in my shed thrived on poison and ignored traps. But I fixed their wagon, anyway. Now when I'm staying overnight in the holler, I'll sometimes leave the doors to the shed open overnight, which allows small predators in the woods to come in and feast on the mousies. The nocturnal prowlers are all gone by morning and the only evidence of their presence is the absence of mice. There's a theological proof in there somewhere, but I'm too tired to work it out.