State of the House Address

Greetings, faithful followers. As we head into the holiday season (not allowed to say 'Christmas' anymore... we can celebrate, but carefully), I know you've been worried about whether the house will be ready for our five guests: Dylan, Alandra, Luke, Erika, and Luke's friend Greg. The hordes begin arriving on the 15th.

I promised an update, and after some consultation with Builder Jim, here it is, starting with pics of the current state of affairs. This is a shot from the back door, looking into the kitchen and dining area. Note the lone post that is serving, along with the huge honkin' beam above it, to hold up what used to be the (pink) bearing wall there. The new windows afford a gorgeous view of the river. The window nearest will have the sink just below it, so we can enjoy the view while up to our elbows in dishsoap. Where the door and white board are now, will be the french doors, soon to arrive.

Here's a shot looking down toward the riverend, showing our new wood stove (which the builders are glad to have installed). It is a huge space now that the old wall is gone, with livingroom, dining, and then the kitchen going around the corner into the L.        But, as you can see, it is also a construction zone. So the revised Christmas plan is this: pack as many boxes as possible from the workshop into the attic, which Paul has been cleaning out. Remember the picture of Dirty Paul? Well, it turns out he hauled (get ready for this) 450lbs. (yes, you read that right) of dirt and soot out of the attic. And probably 50 more pounds has gone down the drain with his showers at the end of the day.    

Anyway, we move a whole lot of boxes into the attic, thus freeing up two more side rooms here in the workshop. Thank goodness for the workshop! With various throw rugs, beds, side tables, and lamps, we can make those rooms into two cozy bedrooms for Luke and Erika, and their friend Greg, who all arrive on December 15th. That just leaves finding room in tbe main house for Dylan and Alandra, who arrive on the 19th. By that time, the builders have said they would set up a temporary kitchen in the house using our new, lower cabinets and old appliances--yes, hauling them from the workshop into the house again. But with all the construction still to happen after Christmas, it's a better choice than to take our shiny new appliances out of their packing crates and risk them being damaged with all the moving and building still to go. The dining and kitchen area won't have been drywalled by then, although it will likely be insulated. So the kitchen will be temporary, to be taken apart when everyone leaves so the builders can get back to it. We can also set up our big dining room table in the house, and with the woodstove and a Christmas tree, we'll be set to make merry.

The upstairs is still a long way from finished, so we'll be using the main floor only. The new stairs from the main to second floor should be built by then, but we may block off the opening with plywood so we can heat just the main floor (we won't have baseboard heating in yet). The builders have taken apart the ceiling of the second floor/floor of the attic to make room for the attic stairs. Here is a shot from the second floor, up to the attic ceiling.

What about bathrooms and showering, you ask? Well, we'll all share the bathroom with shower in the main house, and there is the half bath in the workshop. Hey, I grew up in a small house where eight people (five of them female) shared one bathroom. It can be done. And Paul and I only had one bathroom in the Victoria house, and we've had all my kids with partners for holidays before. Take a number!

So there you go-- it will be fun for them to have both the Before and After experience here at the farm. We'll dig out the lights and decorations, and I've begun packing some gluten free baking into the freezer. You must come try my Bourbon Balls! Ta-taaaa and ho-ho!

                           

Heeeeeere's Billie!

Ok, so every farm needs a dog, right? Or maybe it's every dog needs a farm? Regardless, two weeks ago we decided to take another flying leap and get ourselves a puppy. Paul had been keeping his eye on the local animal adoption agency site, and when he forwarded the pictures of three rolly-polly black fuzzballs, I caved and said 'let's go see them'. And from there, you know our fate was sealed. Billie looked up at me with her bright black eyes and stole my heart. She and two brothers were being fostered, and although the smaller boy-pup was also a darling (they'd named him Brian), I kept coming back to Billie.
She's a collie-shepherd-lab cross, and yes we'll definitely be going to puppy training school! I haven't had a dog in, well, donkey's years, and so of course, being me, I hit the books before our scheduled pick-up day. I read Cesar Millan's How to Raise the Perfect Dog in two days, and coached Paul on do's and don't's all the way to Nelson. Big don't: if she's whiny, no eye contact, touch, or voice contact. Of course, she howled in her crate most of the way home in the car, but Becca (who had come along to see the pups and promptly fell in love with Brian-- they're taking him home next week[!!]) did a great job of just sitting beside her in the backseat and generating calm energy, only talking to her when she was quiet. Two days of doing that at home, and she's practically whine-free (gosh, should I be trying that with my clients??). The book said to not let a new puppy have the run of the house, so she's either outside with me, or in her roughly 60 sq.ft. pen in the workshop living room. She has lots of toys to play with and chew on, and can see us at all times. She's in her crate at night for sleeping, and after ten days, there is barely a whimper anymore when she's shut in at night.

I may be making it sound easy-peasy, but there are definitely challenges. Our property isn't fenced, and a brief chat with the puppy-training lady revealed that I shouldn't be letting her off leash until she is very, very good at responding to the 'come' command. Well. So far, she responds very, very well to 'come' when a) I am standing in her pen with her, about five ft. away; and b) she can see from there that I have a treat in my hand. Actually, to her credit, there has been big improvement on that score and she's now enjoying some off-leash romps outside, staying near the house.

Having said that-- right outside the house may not actually be the safest place for her-- check out this shot I took two mornings ago:
Aren't they supposed to be hibernating by now?! The tracks showed that the bear came around the corner of the workshop and strolled right between my car and the front door. That's very close. Twice now Billie has stopped playing and stood staring at the riverbank, nose quivering, then made a mad dash for the front door, looking back at me as if to say 'Hey stupid, can't you smell that? You're the one with opposable thumbs--open this door quick-like!'

In the first week we had her, I ran around to pet stores making sure we had everything we needed to bring home our precious bundle. Dog bed, indoor pen, chewy toys, big bag of food, treats. Hanging around pet stores has given me an inside view of the huge industry that caters to dog (and other pet) owners. For example, I grabbed a few doggy biscuits on sale at the front counter, only looking at them closely once I got home. 'Apple Crisp Flavour'? Give me a break! Aren't we getting just a wee bit confused, people? If we were honest about marketing to dogs' tastes-- rather than their owners'-- we would see treats such as Deer Poop Pops, Decaying Mouse Flavoured Biscuits (yes, this is currently her favourite outdoor attraction, thank you Cassius), Smelly Boot Chewy Strips, and Good Ol' Plain Dirt dog food. Earlier today I found myself watching as Billie rooted out of the melting ice one of those decapitated mouse heads, to which I treated you, the reader, to a fuller description in a previous posting. As I watched her munch and crunch away on it, a number of things went through my mind:
1) how very far away from 'Apple Crisp Flavoured Biscuit' a desiccated mouse head is
2) that dogs are carnivores
3) that she might ingest some hideous parasite with it; and
4) that there was no way on god's green earth I was going to fish it out of her mouth. By the time I'd processed all this, she'd polished it off. Oy.

Here's another picture of Billie, one very relaxed pup. I'm looking forward to enjoying her company for many, many years to come.

Dirty Paul and Frosty Mornings

It's frosty in the mornings now. Instead of finding damp, limp carcasses left by Cassius on the doorstep, we find little mouse- or molecicles. Easier to scoop up for their ceremonial fling over the river bank, muttering as we go the Common Prayer Book's version of mouse last rites: "Love to eat them mousies. Mousies what we love to eat. Bite they little heads off. Nibble on they little feet." Amen, fling.

Amazing what one gets used to. Cassius is such a ferocious hunter, the property is fairly strewn with rodent body parts. I now find myself casually sidestepping miniature still lifes of carnage and horror-- one would think there was a pint-sized Freddie or whoever the chainsaw massacrer is, running around commiting unspeakable acts all night, taking his underdeveloped rage and frustration out on the only thing smaller than him.

But don't be silly, Jo-Anne. It's just Cassius, having the once-in-nine-lifetimes opportunity to roam free and hunt and do what cats do, then to come inside for a warm meal and some cuddles before heading out to slay more rodents. We are eternally grateful he's keeping them out of the workshop.

A few weeks back I found myself sereptitiously kicking a mouse head out of the way while greeting one of the young folk who have responded to our ads for help with the yard work. She was a fresh-faced young teacher-on-call, and I hoped she wouldn't be put off by the red-tinged sight at our feet. She turned out to be a fantastic worker, digging a garden bed out of tough sod all around the bee yard. Well, almost all the way around, until she was called in to work, and we picked another name out of the many responders we had to the ad. This next young woman finished off the bee yard bed, then tackled tarping the south garden with me. It is now all tucked in under it's cold black plastic quilt, where the morning glory will perish over the next year. A shame to have to leave it undeveloped that long, but it will be worth it.

Another wonderful young person we've met recently is the chef, George, who works at our neighbourhood pub, Mulligan's. Turns out George grew up here in Castlegar, and has recently graduated from cooking school in the Okanagan. We had a terrific chat with him a few weeks back about local food, bees, and the possibility of supplying him with produce from our garden in the coming seasons. He was especially excited about the idea of using lavender in his cooking. The idea of growing lavender in the acre along the driveway still excites me-- I can see the purple swathes in long, gentle curves so clearly. As with the bee supply business, people just keep responding positively to our vision for the place. What a great feeling to know we'll be here, year after year after year, slowly shaping it into our own vision of abundance and beauty.

Some updates: we attended a jolly halloween party at Rebecca and Robin's, in the Dom (Doukhobour house) up the hill. These two gifted individuals invited anyone who wanted, to perform a song or reading of something spook-related, and it was wonderful that many people did just that. We heard an old celtic folksong; an even older dirge for singing at wakes; a heartbreaking aria; and some poetry and prose. And Paul brought along his guitar and did Werewolf of London, and then Lawyers, Guns, and Money (very scary).

Last weekend, we rented a wood chipper and spent a day reducing the piles of branches and tree trimmings, with the help of Becca.

Unfortunately, the chipper broke down before we finished, but there's only one pile left for next spring's cleanup.

The lasagna garden is finished: each bed is about 15" high in the centre, and consists of ten layers-- cardboard right on top of the turf, then grass clippings, leaves, manure, straw, leaves, manure, leaves, grass clippings and straw. I'm really excited to see if it chews up the turf like it's supposed to. I've also ordered two books on gardening: one on greenhouses and the other on gardening in the north, both by renowned gardener Eliot Coleman.

Paul has been working away in the attic, still tearing up old flooring so the electrician can have access to the rooms below. At least, that's what he says he's been doing, but it rather looks to me as though he's just been rolling in dirt. He knows I don't like the ladder going up to the attic, so how would I know the difference??

One last shot, this of the river through golden birch leaves. I don't know if it shows up well, but the bright leaves against the steel blue grey of the river is just stunning.

Well patient readers, dinner beckons. I'll show you photos of how the house is progressing next time. You will be shocked and disturbed, I know, at how far away we are from moving in, nevermind having guests for Christmas. The tension, if not the house, is building. There may be wailing and gnashing of teeth. Stay tuned!

Workshop Chocolate Cake

Hello dear readers, I've just come from my late afternoon bath over at the house, which I like to do after the carpenters leave and before the possibility of a close encounter with a bear in the dark. This is going to get tricky as the light fades earlier, I can see that...

So right now, Paul is upstairs in the attic doing lord knows what... from the noise coming from there, it sounds like he's doing dental work on a giant using a very large drill. I think he's actually trying to take apart and extract a very large truss that held up the chimney that is no longer there. I don't know why this makes me think of dental work.

But speaking of fairy tale and other-worldly beings in the house, I wanted to share with you a bit of a strange feeling I've had here, right from day one. Part of the strangeness is that I never feel it when I'm in the house, only when I'm outside. It usually happens when I'm working in the yard and no one else is around. I get the feeling I'm being watched from an upstairs window, but of course when I glance up, there's nothing there. The feeling is a mix of dread at the chance of actually seeing something-- and then what would I do?-- and disappointment. What am I expecting? Well, actually, I find myself thinking of a young blond girl, maybe nine years old or so, dressed in a cotton blouse and holding a doll. Or a young woman in a kerchief, who would draw quickly away from the window if I saw her. These last weeks of carving out the vegetable garden, I've found myself wondering if they would approve of what I'm doing with 'their' space. I get a similar feeling when I'm working on old rescue quilt tops I've bought on ebay... as I add border, quilting, and backing, I feel that I'm collaborating with a ghost. I am keenly aware of her fingers having worked the fabric, and I wonder what she thinks of my choice of (sometimes outrageously colourful) fabric to finish the project she started.

Speaking of projects, here is an update on the house: The back end (dining room and kitchen) is almost ready to be closed in, although the windows won't be ready for a few weeks yet. A concrete footing has been poured to support the single post that will support the huge new beam that will allow us to remove the (formerly pink) wall that divided up the river end of the house so the view was blocked. Whew. Also, a hole has been cut (mostly) in the ceiling of the main floor, or floor of the second floor, depending on where you're standing, to make room for the new staircase. Behold the picture: I'm standing in the second floor hallway, looking down at where the stairs will be.

Electrician Bill has also made a few visits, and begun deconstructing the elaborate puzzle that is the wiring in this house. And the gasline has been laid, which will service our gorgeous new six-burner BlueStar stove. Here's a great pic Paul took the other morning, of the trench for the gasline in the early morning fog:

The trench still needs to be backfilled, and right now it looks like an ugly incision stretching across the property from the road to the house (about 200 yards). Paul assures me it will heal.      

As for bears: Paul encountered a large one the other evening, in another pear tree closer to the mobile home where our tenant Patsy lives. It broke a large branch climbing that tree. But the bears (and their droppings) are scarce these days, especially since we removed the pear tree standing right outside the house. We discovered the core of the tree was old and crumbling so we didn't feel too guilty about taking it down. Some of the pear wood went to Ted, a neighbour who is a wood turner (Paul exerts huge effort not to call him Ted Turner; I've actually seen sweat break out on his forehead from the strain) and the rest is cut and stacked for burning.

And so things go along, and we continue to grow in our love for this place. As per usual for me in the fall, I'm feeling more like cooking and baking and continue to miss having all my pots and pans and various culinary paraphernalia around me.

Regardless, Recipe for Workshop Chocolate Cake:

Discover a package of gluten-free chocolate cake mix Paul must have bought while I was in Victoria last summer.

Call Paul and ask him to heave and ho heavy boxes in search of a measuring cup and cake pans.

Discover one plastic measuring cup with barely readable markings in a box with articles I've never seen before, which must have come from the farthest corner of the basement in the Victoria house; it will do nicely.

Discover a box of metal baking pans-- score!

Fail to locate icing sugar, so make do following an online boiled granular sugar recipe. It fails miseraby, becoming quickly unspreadable as it cools and sits in coagulated lumps on the cake. So of course we eat those parts first, sitting on the couch in the workshop, my feet on Paul's lap, and it is delicious.

Dear Universe...

I want to take this opportunity to say thank you, Dear Universe, for the recent lessons on the requirement for clear, precise wording in the practice of Spiritual Manisfestation. I now understand that when I said (in response to frustration at the slowness of the renovation process) "I want to see the house crawling with carpenters," I should have specified human carpenters, not carpenter ants. I'm glad we cleared that up. Only one visit from the exterminator and his fumigation equipment was required.

I might take this opportunity to further clarify that when I envisioned Glory-ous Mornings, I did not mean the herbaceous variety; you can stop with the ruddy bindweed any time now, thanks. And when I requested prolific, easily accessed sources of manure for the garden, I hadn't quite seen myself trucking about the place every morning with a wheel barrow, scooping bear turds. Really. One would think You might actually be having a little har-dee-har at us mortals' expense. 

Thank you for the two (not one, two) clawfoots tubs, perfect condition and refinished, hardware included, for an outrageously inexpensive price. As Supreme Feminine Ruler, you know how much a girl appreciates a good, old-fashioned soak. And for getting Paul safely back from fetching the last one from the coast, with no trailer-drama this time.

Let's see... we still need to find affordable flooring for the upstairs hallway. And a good-sized chunk of marble for the kitchen island. Range hood, perhaps with decorative tin finish? Concrete pad, 8' X 20' for the greenhouse. Which I don't know how in heaven's name (oops, Your name) we're going to move.

Otherwise I think we're good. Oh yes, the children are always in need of financial help, but you know that's a standing order.

Thank you for Paul, most of all.

And say hello to Santa Claus for me.

Ta-taaaa!

Yesterday was a very good day...

Ah, good morning good readers. I am sitting at my desk watching the mist rise from the mountain behind Ootischenia, sipping a cup of green tea and feeling very cosy-autumny-thanksgivingy. Paul is still sleeping, and Cassius has eaten his breakfast and is out exploring. The weather has turned just in the last week, from scorching clear to soft and drizzly. There is a tree flaming red along our driveway, and another that burst briefly into red then shrugged all its leaves to the ground. Autumn is most definitely here, and I am noticing that because I can see so much more of the weather, the geography around us, I am loving the changes. I can hardly wait to be tucked upstairs in the house, watching winter take hold of the land.

Here is an assortment of tidbits by way of update: we finally broke down and hired someone to help me with the morning glory. It is too massive a job on it's own, never mind getting gardens prepped for next year-- which was the intended goal this fall. So garden-expert Carrie arrived yesterday, full of energy and enthusiasm and lots of good gardening know-how, and she's tackling the infestation in the south garden, on her knees, one square foot at a time. Yes, she's being paid. She says she's never seen a bindweed infestation this bad. Thank you for the Validation.

My process with the yardwork has gone something like this: get excited about the new veggie garden and work on that for awhile; have a bad dream about morning glory roots reaching up to strangle me by the throat; wake up at 4am fretting about beridding the place of it; resolve to work on that instead, and fly at it for a few hours; realize there is no way I can do it AND get anything else done, including my job nevermind other garden work; give up and cry in frustration; get a hug from Paul, brainstorm ideas for MG eradication, such as smothering under tarps, excavating, etc.; get started on a bit of that, then realize I have to get the sheet composting on the veggie garden going. Rinse and repeat.

But as of yesterday, there is Hope once again. This is important for those of us who like to take on Big Projects and who think we can Do It All. Hope is good.


So here is a view of my veggie garden layout, from an upstairs window. It takes the shape of a square, cut into quadrants, and then each quadrant cut once again into triangles. This leaves eight sections for rotating annual veggies on a yearly basis. There will be a long rectangular bed on one edge where perennial vegetables such as asparagus and artichoke will reside permanently.



Here is the garden, staked out as of last week:

At 40X40ft., I had it close-enough-to-square-for-me when Becca and Dean showed up to help, and Becca took things in hand. Close enough was not good enough, so she grabbed the tape measure and barked out orders to Dean and I until we'd got it right. And it is a much cleaner layout-- thank you honey! Each of the eight triangle beds are just small enough to reach into the middle (if you're longarmed like me), and the paths between allow good room for a wheelbarrow. There's room in the centre for a bench, or maybe a table and sun umbrella for resting with a cold drink.

The next step after laying out with stakes and string was to dig a shallow trench along the string-lines. This took me two days, and I enjoyed the last of our hot weather while doing it. I needed to get the stakes and string out of the way so the big truck can drive in and empty the dumpster parked beside the house (it can drive over the trenched outlines without erasing them). The next and final step before winter will be to add all the layers-- and progress this week included finding a phenomenal source for manure, and acquiring two truck loads. You can see it in the first picture, to the left-back. That's my staging area for the lasagna materials, and so far I have a pile of grass clippings, a pile of awesome manure, and some bagged leaves. We still need to rent/buy a chipper so all the trimmed branches can be added as well. Getting there!

Let's take a peek at what's happening in the house:

This is a view from the livingroom into the river-end (dining room on the left, kitchen on the right). The builders are replacing the back wall, which will be fitted with windows and french doors.

 Outside view of the corner where the new kitchen starts. That's Jim, our contractor, standing in the house, and Ken, who has been here three weeks doing demolition. I think he's glad to be moving on to building now!

Other updates: Paul made a fast dash to Richmond to act on some sweet deals: we've got our second clawfoot tub, beautifully refinished and with fixtures, for $400-- that's an amazing deal. He also picked up a beautiful white kitchen farmhouse sink from Ikea, which was the best value we could find for that style. And he found someone with the plumbing/hardware for the fixtures and shower ring for the other clawfoot tub, so we're all set in that department! We're still working on having a vintage cabinet of mine converted into a bathroom vanity, we'll show you pics of how that turns out.

But the icing on the cake for me yesterday was signing the contract with Builder Jim, which states that the renovations will be "substantially completed" by Christmas! I've been fretting about that because the Luke and Erika and Dylan and Alandra are booked to fly out from Toronto/Montreal, and I was not looking forward to cramming us all into the workshop! Thank you Jim, "substantial" will be good enough for me.
Happy Thanksgiving Everyone!

Pilgrim's Progress

Happy International Day of Peace, good readers. In honour of the day, I will refrain from making reference to poo, carcasses, or 'battles' with morning glory. All will be goodness and light, I promise.

It feels as though things have finally settled into a bit of routine around here... I'm at my computer by 7am or so, do my Uvic work until about 10:30, then head outside to do some yard work. (Paul just works all the time, then comes in covered in dirt, hungry, and generally very happy). Yesterday I dug the grassy turf from around some fruit trees-- the lady at the garden shop had said it suffocates the trees, so I'm going to fill in a circle around each tree with good, nourishing compost and some bark mulch on top. After pondering for a few minutes what to do with the turf, I ran inside and googled 'does turf compost', and Lo! it does. It just takes a few years under black plastic, but apparently the end result is worth it. So I started a pile in a corner of the property, and will get back to you in 2013 on that.

High on my agenda is to get the veggie patch laid out, then to start the lasagna garden. For those not familiar with this 'no dig' method, the go-to book is 'Lasagna Gardening: A New Layering System for Bountiful Gardens: No Digging, No Tilling, No Weeding, No Kidding!' by Patricia Lanza. The idea is to place layers of cardboard (that we have from saved moving boxes!), peat moss, compost, wood chips, wood ashes, newspaper, etc. etc. right on top of turf, and Hey Presto! in the spring it's settled and decomposed to a few good inches of wonderful stuff you plant right into, with the turf beneath all chewy-soft from the little organisms that flocked(?) toward all the yummy stuff you gave them.

Here's the area I plan to make into garden: looking north...





and south. And yes, its big, but they don't call me 'Go Big or Go Home Jojo' for nothing.

In the next few days, I'll stake out the beds and then start layering. I think the main challenge will be obtaining enough material, but I've started calling around for manure (oops, sorry, that's poo, isn't it) and other ingredients.

Yesterday Paul started dismantling the chimney, which doesn't work where it is (and has seen better days and a few fires, by the looks of it) and has to come out to make room for the new stairs to the second floor. Here are some shots:

 And today, I pruned back the raspberries, which had become a jungle. Never having done this before, I referred to my 'Gardener's A-Z Guide to Growing Organic Food'. I had to read it over a few times, and given that I don't know whether we have everbearing or simply 'red' raspberries, I had to guess and sort of came up with a freestyle method of my own. I cut down to the ground all the brown, dead canes (there were lots), and then thinned the rest so there is one cane about every 3-4 inches. I then topped them off at about 6'. As you can see, there are now far more branches in the pile than there are in the garden!                                                                 

I hope I haven't just sabotaged next years' crop... I also saved a pile of the young, fresh leaves, which I'll hang to dry in the Banya and use for raspberry tea this winter.

On the ToDo list: rent chipper to cut up all the tree trimmings we've collected so far (can use in lasagna garden); put up posts and wire for more raspberries; prune the hazelnuts where the bears broke branches :( ... Learn how to prune the fruit trees later this fall; clean up existing garden beds; extract the honey we pulled off the hives and set aside a few weeks ago. But most of all, continue enjoying the peace and beauty of this place as we move into Autumn. Peace to all, and a happy upcoming Autumn Equinox!

The House at Poo Corner

Greetings, dear readers. We know you're hankering for yet another glimpse into the rural pastimes of Paul and Jo-Anne, so let us begin.

These past weeks have been wonderfully full. I wanted to live closer to nature, and by George, we are! Nature is Creeping under the doorstep (morning glory vines), being Deposited in the livingroom (Cassius' latest trophies), and Sneaking up the garden path (bears, bears, and more bears). And isn't this a wonderful shot of a Praying Mantis, who jumped out of the morning glory onto the white wall of the workshop and posed for me.

Some Savoury moments from the past few weeks: Friday before last, when the Moon was coming on full, Paul suggested we walk down the road to the restaurant at the golf course for dinner. I hadn't realized it was there, or that it was so close. Turns out to be a Pub in our neighbourhood-- score! And, after some inquiries between me, the server, and the chef, turns out they don't bread their chicken wings. Only those readers who are celiac or gluten-sensitive will Appreciate. So we have our Friday night date night chicken wings and caesar salad night nailed down, right here in our neighbourhood! We so enjoyed sitting on the pub patio as the sun set, and then just a few brief moments later, watched the moon rise behind us. The walk home was Magic, the evening so soft and warm-- something I missed so much living on Vancouver Don't-forget-your-sweater-going-out-for-the-evening-yes-even-in-August Island.

We've also made some new Friends with Sarah and Gregg-- Sarah is helping me find local foods, and I've already purchased a half dozen Gorgeous roasting chickens (in the freezer for winter) and a turkey for Thanksgiving! Sarah leads the community Choir, which I've joined, and it feels terrific to be singing again. They are wonderful, community-minded people and so very Generous. We enjoyed a delicious currie dinner at their place last week, and are having them over this week for dinner a la Workshop.

What else? Paul has done some serious demolition in the house:





Oops, meant to show this pic:












I've also made Headway in the Battle of the Morning Glory, with Becca and Dean's help. We removed the Obnoxious Stuff from around the perimeter of the workshop and bagged it up for taking to the dump. I also got a fantastic Tip from a gardener in Trail, who said she asks for used tarps from building supply companies (its what they wrap the loads of lumber in for trucking). So I hopped down to the Rona and asked-- and voila! A trunk load of tarp, black on one side, white on the other-- Gratis! I've already covered over most of the patch of garden I weeded (you remember that, dear reader), which is Rife with morning glory. According to the UBC horticultural website, covering morning glory with black tarp for about a year may Eradicate it. We'll see.

So... we come to the Bears. It is with Trembling Awe that I write on this subject. The sheer Size, the Volume, the Frequency, sets the heart Racing and knees Quaking. I speak, of course, of bear Poo, which is bloody well everywhere on the property. The bears themselves aren't actually as big as I'd imagined. The cubs are pretty cute. But wow, what a nuisance. Behold:

This one is in the pear tree that stands on the corner of the carport, between the house and workshop. I believe we've actually passed beneath it many times in recents weeks, completely oblivious to the munching ursine above.

Here's the Mom standing guard while the cubs descend from the tree. As we watched from the bathroom of the house (how ironic), we quickly realized they had descended for one reason only -- bathroom break! We managed to chase them away before more of the area could be transformed into a cesspool.

This next picture is not for the faint of heart. I have it on good authority that one can Compost bear poo, so yes, I went around scooping it up, and yes, it is a Barrow O'Poo. I tucked it under some black plastic, on top of some morning glory. Sweet Revenge.

        

Of Moles and the Glory of the Morning

Mornings at Flying Leap are truly a gift. It is impossible to not want to step outside first thing, and every time I do, I am smitten with the place all over again. It is so, so quiet, all I hear are the birds and the occasional car as someone heads off to town early. But we're so far from the road, that's never been a problem-- in fact, I like knowing there are people around and not needing curtains on my windows. Nice combo.

These days have been, almost without exception, crystal clear. The mornings are lovely and cool, but by noon it's hot. Which means that for me, anyway, outside work needs to be done before lunch. Today I was out by 7am and finished that huge weedy patch I showed you last time. Here is the after pic:

However, the Glory of the Morning around here has been tempered significantly by the discovery in that garden bed of a huge encroachment of Morning Glory... which I have come to appreciate by it's alternate name: Bindweed. Morning Glory is the common name for over 1,000 species of the plant, whose taxonomy, according to Wikipedia, is in flux. Likely because the little bloomers keep multiplying faster than you can classify'em. I believe the type we have is Calystegia sepium, which multiplies like a many-headed Hydra every time it's mowed, cut, or pulled without having removed the whole root, and it chokes out everything in its path. 

Here's a shot of it creeping into the bed I just weeded. There's a huge section all along the northwest side of the property, and Paul and I will have to strategize about getting rid of it. Apparently covering it over in black plastic for about a year will do the trick, but a barrier of some kind will be needed to keep it from creeping back from the next property over. We'll have to figure out some way of eradicating it, because I refuse to spend the rest of my days here pulling the ruddy stuff. Will keep you posted.

Which leads to discussion of our other predatory species. If you look closely at this photo, you'll see small holes amid mounds of dirt. They've been popping up all over the property, and, you guessed it-- they're made by Moles. According to the neighbours, they gnaw away at root vegetables in the garden, and have made a comeback since someone with four cats (the former owner here?) moved away.

The only encounter I'd had with this creature until now was via the very charming children's story, the Wind in the Willows, where my children and I happily followed the bucolic adventures of Mole, Ratty, Mr. Toad, Mr. Badger, Otter, and others. My first closeup occured yesterday, when I almost tripped over a furry corpse left by Cassius for us to admire after an early morning hunt-- and yes, the little digger paws looked pretty much like they were portrayed in the book. Sigh. Be grateful I've spared you a photo. But while not wanting to make a mountain out of the infamous you know what, we will have to find a way to get rid of them as well.

One method suggested by a neighbour, and which is backed up by online testimonials so must be good, is to shove a piece of Juicy Fruit gum down the mole hole. Apparently what your mother said about swallowing gum is true-- they eat it, and it kills them. I remember rolling the gum around in my mouth and wondering why my stomach could handle the (rather astonishing) range of other stuff I ingested as a kid, but not this particular substance. I still find it difficult to swallow gum, but feel strangely rebellious and triumphant when I do-- kind of like peeing while swimming.

Dinner tonight: a fresh quick pasta sauce made from all the various veggies we've been gifted by neighbours, including tomatoes, zuchinni, patty-pan squash, onion, my own basil and italian parsley, some canned sardines (mmm...), and capers. Maybe I'll also roast the rest of the spaghetti squash, just for the theme.

Labour Day Weekend, that's for sure!

Hello, faithful readers, I come to you today a slightly sunburned, muscle-fatigued version of my former self. If anyone out there can recommed a #50 sunscreen that doesn't irritate sensitive, delicate facial skin, let me know.

Paul continues to set up our faux-kitchen in the workshop. We actually have the kitchen triangle happening... it's just that the fridge is about 18 feet from the stove, which is about 25 feet from the sink. But hey, who said cooking couldn't be an aerobic workout?

I will admit to becoming ungracefully impatient last night-- I kind of 'lost it' trying to make dinner out of boxes of food and dishes all over the workshop floor... I think Patience is going to be one of the gifts of this place to me. But wait-- Paul's just informed me the cabinets are set up and ready to fill. Halleluja, no more worrying about mice getting into the dry goods. (More on Mice later).

Here are more shots of our living quarters for the next few months:

The view from our 'livingroom'.

My task of the the last two days has been tackling the North Garden, which in the busy-ness of everything we let go not only to weed, but to seed. This is where the green house will be moved to, and where I'll have my compost system built out of wood pallets, so I'll be grassing this in next spring so we can have truck access for all the lovely loads of manure we'll be bringing in. We won't be composting kitchen waste there, though-- it goes into an Earthsaver bin that I brought from Victoria, and locals have said bears won't bother with it as long as there's no meat products thrown in (we never compost meat waste anyway).


Here's a picture of the South Garden.
Doesn't the gazing ball just look positively
radiant with promise? The North Garden will be mainly for veggies, because of it's proximity to the kitchen. My vision for this garden, located roughly at the 'front' of the house, is to plant more raspberries (including the local black raspberry that looks like a small blackberry), herbs, and cutting flowers. It might turn out as a simple maze, we'll see.

Ok, dinner calls: grilled steak and smashed potatoes, kholrabi, and garlic, and greens (all local).

Oh, one last thing-- Cassius has asked me to include his list of accomplishments to date: dozens of field mice, one bird that we know of, and one small fruit bat. Thank you Paul for dealing with the corpses, even in the middle of the night. And to Cassius for revelling in your Catness.

Bearly Here...

Well, as many of you know by now, Paul did in fact make it home, body, soul, and trailer intact. What have we been doing, you ask? Let's see: Paul has done more repairs to the trailer (grrr...), making it much more road worthy. I've finished marking final papers and sent the lot off to Uvic today. We've organized the (1600 sq.ft) workshop (I can hear the Guys drooling from here) so we can move into it for the next 2-3 months while renovations are happening. My daughter Becca and son-in-law Dean are coming tomorrow morning to help heave heavy items from the house into the workshop (hey, didn't we just do the reverse in July??). The shop has a main large room where we can plug in the stove and fridge for meals. We'll use the kitchen cabinets that are being torn out of the house, and there's a bathroom, and three smaller rooms, one of which will be our 'bedroom' and another my 'office'. As soon as that's accomplished, Paul will begin serious demolition duty. Let's see, what else-- the building permit came through yesterday, hurray! And we spent a lovely Sunday afternoon with neighbours up the hill who renovated their Doukhabour home three years ago. Rebecca and Robin moved to Castlegar from Calgary-- Rebecca is a writer and Robin an anthropologist, and they're lovely, warm people. In fact, we're finding that everyone we meet here is terrific. I just met another neighbour on the way to the mailbox this morning, and was given a warm welcome to the 'hood and promises of introductions and plant-sharing-- yay!

People seem to know our house, and many have commented on what a special property it is. We've realized that none of the new houses being built on our street along the river can be positioned as close to the river as we are-- we're probably the closest on this whole stretch of the Columbia for miles. How lucky we are to step out the (future) dining room doors and sit literally on the bank! But more than that, the comments have been about the peace, tranquility, and spirit of the place.

And in that spirit, here are a few more pictures:

Paul brought all my potted herbs, tomatoes, and geraniums from Victoria, and they're adding some colour to the Banya.

One of the many apple trees... we met a woman today who told us where we can have our apples juiced if we want.

Plums are almost ripe... which leads to the next shot:

Yes, we have a Bear, as evidenced by his or her Doo-Doo. Huge Doo-Doo, at that. May signify a huge bear, or just one who is on a terrific fruit cleanse at the moment.
Apparently we'll be vying for the plum crop... stay Tuned.

Trailer Trash, or Will Paul Make it Home?

Thank you for your patience, dear readers. I realize it's been almost a Month since I last posted (hmm... reminds me of being Catholic: "bless me father, for I have sinned... it's been one month since my last confession."). Oy.

In truth, there hasn't been a lot to report on my end, and Paul was too busy to write. When we last left you, I was starting my month of Uvic summer teaching, living in our basement suite in Victoria. I'd spent just one brief, lovely week at Flying Leap Farm before driving back. My month was... busy and boring. Although I enjoyed being in the classroom, as always. Sitting marking papers was boring, though, and I missed Paul and Cassius something fierce.

As for Paul, he accomplished tons: mowed the whole dang three acres, which was knee-high in dry grass, with our New riding mower; trimmed some of the lower branches on various Trees; made contact with a Builder, got the Permit application process underway, met a few of our Neighbours, etc. etc. He also entertained house guests, who helped him begin Demolition of the back entrance.

Before we knew it, it was time for Paul to drive back to Victoria to do some minor Maintenance on the Chambers St. house that he hadn't got to earlier, and to pack me up and bring me home. Therein begins our current Adventure. Paul, being the Bargain Hunter he is-- and usually a fine one, at that-- thought that instead of renting a U-Haul again, he would buy a second-hand Trailer to use for the duration of the renovations as well as this last move. Brilliant idea. I accompanied him to the Trailer's location, and my first thought on seeing it was 'that is one Ugly trailer.' Then, (in the voice of Gandalf) 'Is it safe?' I demurred to Paul's decision in the purchase, however, trusting in his good sense.

Well. Two days later, after repair work to the electrical/driving lights system, he was Hitched up and on his way back to Chambers St., when... the hitch broke. Bouncing along with only the safety chains holding things together. More repairs involving a Welder, and sheets of Plywood for where the truck hitch had rammed into the front of the trailer after they had parted ways. Maintenance on the house now being replaced by maintenance on the Trailer. I finished teaching Friday the 19th, cleaned and packed Saturday, and left for Home on Sunday. Paul was to follow as Soon as he was able.

Which turns out to be... Not Yet. I give to you, for your amusement and perhaps alarm, the following Excerpt from Paul's email to me last night:

(10:49 pm)

"I'm at the beautiful Ponderosa Motel and Sushi Bar in Princeton, BC: home of a number of high-temperature records and only a single day's wait for new auto parts from the Lower Mainland. I got on the 7:00 ferry yesterday and noticed on the boat that one of the trailer tires seemed a little low, so I filled it at the first service station after Tsawassen and bought a tire pressure gauge and, for some reason, a small LED flashlight. I drove very carefully to Hope, then aimed for Princeton starting at 11. There were so few people on the road at that time, it seemed best to drive when there was little potential for conflict. I drove slowly, letting people pass.

The first trailer tire went thwappa-thwappa-thwappa at 1:45 a.m., just past Manning Park. The pickup's bolt wrench was the wrong size and the bolts were frozen, but I had tools packed and eventually hammered & torqued them loose. I'll need a new ratchet set; I didn't know I could bend one like that. Adjustable-jaw crecent wrenches worked better.

The spare tire had only 20 psi (though the guy who sold me the trailer had filled them all to 34) and the wheel it was mounted on didn't have any clearance from the frame, so I had to take it off again and reverse it. I did this with the little flashlight between my teeth, turning around often to check for bears or zombies. One driver stopped to say he couldn't stop. There was only about one vehicle every 15 minutes, mostly big rigs. I always stopped what I was doing and stepped away from the trailer when someone passed, remembering all those stories that start with "The victim was changing a tire at the side of the road" and end with "identified through dental records."

The second tire shredded after 20 minutes more of driving, just before 3 a.m. I was climbing much higher up in the mountains now so it was very cold and I'd used all my warm clothes to pack breakables. The second spare was completely flat. Fortunately, I realized I had packed a bike pump. It takes about 350 pumps to fill a car tire with one of those, which is warming. I also topped up the first spare, with the filler tube now on the inside of the wheel under the trailer.

The first spare started clunking about 5 km outside Princeton, around 4:45. As I had no more backup tires and didn't care about the ones I had, I kept going for a couple of clicks and until I got to the Husky station. To my surprise, the tire wasn't flat -- but four of the five bolts were sheared off and the last was holding on by the remaining nut, which was two-thirds off. I slept for a couple of hours, and when I woke up there was a flatbed tow-truck driver getting some coffee at the station. He worked for a tire place just up the hill. Perfect.

It turns out the previous owners had changed the axle without checking the tires for clearance. They were all Bridgestone T/As, wide performance car tires. They barely fit inside the fenders, but once the trailer was loaded (those watered plants are wicked heavy) they widened out and hit metal. Then one reversed spare tire couldn't hold it's centring, snapped the bolts and chewed almost through the hub. The guys at the shop had never seen the type of damage I had. I got the sense there were some bits they might be framing.

I moved the heaviest plants from the trailer into the pickup but the parts, including proper trailer tires, won't arrive until tomorrow. The trailer should drive and track much better after that, will last longer and be a lot safer.

Through all this I didn't find myself cursing or screaming -- it was more like "Really? Seriously?" And the whole thing's been some weird kind of fun, like one of those computer games where you have to figure out how to use the gear you've collected to complete the challenge. Collect little flashlight; use little flashlight. Tire gauge, wrenches... even two same-keyed padlocks I bought a couple of days ago -- they can't move the trailer inside to store it overnight because it has no wheels now, so I needed the locks to secure the contents. It's like everything I had a passing hunch I should get, I've needed.

What frightens me is, today I picked up some bear spray."

 

Will Paul make it home Safely? By how much will the Bargain Trailer have exceeded the cost of renting, and how much will Jo-Anne care? Will the repair costs be Deductible in the same way the Rent of a U-Haul would have been? Are any Revenue Canada employees reading this right now? And why are there no photographs with this post? Stay tuned, dear readers.  

Basement Suite Blues

People have been saying 'wasn't it torture having to come back so soon after moving?' But it's not that bad, really,as long as I don't think about fresh raspberries in the morning, the sound of the river, the smell of the meadow, magnificent thunder storms... and of course Paul and Cassius. I've been back in Victoria for 10 days, living in our basement suite so I can do my Uvic summer teaching gig. The first week was the worst, mainly because I was cramming all those chapters I hadn't got to while packing and moving. But being back in the classroom feels great-- well worth the prep. Right now I'm teaching Family Counselling to the masters students who are in their third and final summer of the program. This week I add Theories in Counselling, with the new cohort just starting. I love it, the students are great. AND I get to spend a little more time with my spiritual study group, which is terrific (I've written about it on my website, www.jo-annestoltz.com).

Back home on the farm, Paul is accomplishing tons: he's installed an electric fence around the bee yard, is waging righteous war on the wasps, has met and dined with various neighbours, and bought us a riding mower of our own so we don't have to beg and borrow. I accidently brought both cameras back with me (have mailed one back to him), so he's waiting for it before posting pics and comments here. I think he'll have lots to say.

We've also had two virtual meetings with architect intern Julie from Studio9, and I think the floor plans are pretty much done. Next step is for Paul to run it past the local powers to determine permits etc. One item we're nervous about is potential required changes to the septic system to accomodate additional bathrooms... could be costly if we have to relocate the whole thing. Will keep you posted.

In addition to my pedagogical duties, I've been busy here fixing up the basement suite at 2123 Chambers. I've done some 'deep' cleaning and painted the bedroom. It was previously dark green, so hopefully this soft yellow will be an improvement during those rainy glum Victoria winter days.

I've also weeded and tidied the back yard, and will do the same in front. The lavender and rosemary need pruning, and I'll try to find a place to hang and dry the cuttings to bring home for the winter. I'm used to being able to run outside and pick fresh herbs for cooking all year 'round here, but we'll have to make do with fresh dried until I get things set up at the farm. I'm thinking pots on the new deck that can be trundled into one of the workshop rooms for the winter...

Here's a shot of some roses I picked from the bush out front, with mint drying on the window sill.      

The upstairs tenants are really nice, and I've rented the basement suite to a lovely young couple for the end of August. The Master Plan is proceeding very well indeed, heh heh. But can Paul and Jo-Anne continue to confound the Twin Gods of Crisis and Disaster in their epic journey toward unbridled, unabashed Pastoral Bliss?? Stay tuned...

PS: Have you ever noticed in 19th century writing that certain words are Capitalized by the author for Emphasis? I like it, I think it will become my Style.

First Guest, More Pics

Good morning faithful readers, I am trying to type quietly while Paul sleeps on... we're both just bagged at the end of every day. A lot of it I think is just the newness of it all, and I know for me the peace and quiet is most conducive to long, sound sleeps.

This week we had our first overnight guest (although our first official visit was from Becca and Dean last week). My sister Caroline (or Cookie, a nickname that still sticks almost 50 years on) stayed over Sunday/Monday, and she took some terrific photos:

This is one of my favourite quilts, draped over an ancient wagon out by the garden shed.

And here's our tractor! Paul will blog more about this, I suspect. It works, has new tires, and came with four attachments-- one is a snow plow we'll try on the driveway this winter.

Speaking of farm machines, here I am mowing our grass. That morning Paul and I had done some bee maintenance, and silly me wore only one layer of socks... my right ankle is swollen and painful from three stings, and so only my flipflops fit right now (in case any of you safety geeks out there were horrified). The mower was borrowed from Becca and Dean and Ange and Gord at Crooked Horn Farm (www.crookedhornfarm.ca). It rained cats and dogs so I didn't get much done-- hopefully today. One just has to be a wee bit careful heading toward the river bank...

Here's my sister, looking lovely against the 80's pink feature wall...

Caroline lives just 1.5 hours away, at Jewel Lake Resort near Grand Forks and Greenwood. She and bro-in-law Jim Harrison (look him up, hockey fans) bought the resort two years ago and its a wonderful place-- '60's style, cozy cabins on the lake, lots of camping, hiking, fishing. Here's the link: http://www.jewellakeresort.com/.

Cat update: Cassius is now staying around the house during the day, especially since Paul showed him how to get up into the 'attic' of the banya (this cat loves high spaces). I called him for dinner yesterday and he came trotting right in, and spent the night inside again as well. I think we're sorted out cat-wise.

 It will be very sad for me to leave tomorrow, but I must get some prep done before my Uvic teaching starts Tuesday (*gack*). I will miss this place already, it doesn't take long to get inside you.