Progress

 Clean up for the garage/shop fire has been arduous and incredibly dirty. 

Grandson Devin contributed a work day, as did son Howard, and a friend, S.A. The warped and blackened metal has been hauled away, crushed rock has been spread through the vanished side alleys that housed tractors, pickup, car, zero-turn mower and a host of smaller oddments.

Jim has mulled various options for rebuilding, but until we know to what degree our insurance claim will be honored, it isn't possible to settle on a final plan.

We have grievances with the local handling of the claim; perhaps that is a standard response.

We carefully prepared an itemized inventory of lost items, handed it to the local agent 16 days after the fire, then Jim clambered through the wreckage to take photos of nearly unrecognizable items per request of the agent. I forwarded those to the area adjustor, again as requested. We haven't bombarded the agent with questions, knowing that time would be needed to sort this, and after all, we aren't the only area clients who may have claims in process.

What we've found perplexing is lack of communication and the vagueness of the agent and the local adjuster when we've asked for a progress report. 

I'm not impressed with a young man [local agency head] who sits with feet propped on his desk and his gaze fixed somewhere beyond our heads when we are in his office!

I think we could have been told that the area adjuster was coming out to view the site, or, after the fact, that she had been here when we were not at home.

Ultimately we learned that our claim was handed off to an independent adjuster in Texas!

This man has been attentive, has asked for details, has held several long phone meetings with Jim. 

He will be submitting his suggestions by the beginning of next week, but has warned that the paperwork may have to go through several more offices before a settlement offer is made.

We have ventured a claim that is considerably below the limit of our policy.

This situation is aggravating, to say the least, but we know we are blessed that we had savings to tide us over with a vehicle and the most necessary of tools beyond what Howard promptly loaned.

The only mess remaining is two faintly smoldering heaps of 'junk' that will eventually be scooped up and hauled away.

We've been able to turn some of our attention to gardening. The big rototiller that goes behind the tractor has proved functional, and the small Troybilt that Matt provided has been handy.

We've collected new rakes, hoes, shovels and hand trowels and diggers.

The weather is still dry and temperatures dropped with the turn of the calendar page--essentially we had May weather in April and now into a third week of mostly sunny but windy and chilly days.

As soon as an area was cleared of rubble, Jim spread fine crushed rock to cover the grime.

The cement pad was laboriously scrubbed and hosed.

Several years ago Jim acquired a small second hand 'skid building' which landed near the barn on the western end of the property. He mentioned moving it up to the site of the burned workshop, but I didn't realize the project was in motion until I heard the tractor laboring up the hill with the building in tow.

I'm not sure why Jim has his head under the building. I am always anxious when such maneuvers are underway!

The building has been positioned at the front of the concrete pad and Howard's small tool trailer and the resident tractor parked alongside.

An old canvas folding chair with a cushion, placed on the little porch, has been appropriated by 

Willis and Robert [the cats.]

Jim has managed to run a lead from the electrical 'stump' to install a single overhead light.

Now we wait to learn what a settlement will allow for a proper rebuild.

In the meantime, it is encouraging to have the wreckage cleared away and a place for tools.

Our Beachy Amish neighbors mowed the upper field on Monday and 'turned' the hay yesterday. 

Cooler weather is slowing the drying of the hay.

Potatoes and corn planted days prior to the fire are up and thriving.

Two additional rows of potatoes went in yesterday [13th.]

Deprived of my greenhouse, lost to the fire,  the tomato plants I attempted to start in the house were frail and spindly, needing to be replaced by some from my favorite nursery.

The chilly weather is not proving kind to the latest transplants.

Beet plugs from the Amish auction presented by Matt. Although I watered them carefully, it wasn't till the overnight rain on the 6th that they perked up and began to put forth new growth.

While much has been accomplished at the burn site, I cannot point to projects or accomplishments of my own. My role since the fire has been mainly to launder grimy work clothes, supply food, swipe away at the worst of the dirt that has inevitably come in on our feet--and on the feet of the cats.

I've managed a bit of puttering in the flower strips though I'm conceding that weeds have overtaken beyond what is likely to be remedied.

Living is always a day to day endeavor--more so when the unexpected takes over and routine is unsettled.

While I write, the Beachys have come to bale the hay which will be trucked away to their nearby farm.

While our most recent gardening efforts aren't encouraging, I'm pleased to see the first cutting of hay safely harvested.

Wildflowers

I've been walking the meadow loop with my camera during the past two weeks.

Some of these wildlings I can identify, others, not sure.

The term 'ephemerals' surely applies to spring flowering plants--many have quietly faded away when I look for them a few days later.

I pause often in my walks trying to pinpoint the elusive sweet flowery scents diffused by the hot sun.

Wild rose and honeysuckle are unmistakable, but there is a more delicate blending of scent that seems a combination of grasses, green leaves and half hidden clumps of blooming plants..

Wild blue phlox.

Spiderwort [tradescantia] The flowers range from clear blue to this deeper rose/purple.

Lyre-leaf Sage

Woodland anemone--maybe?

Wild blackberry

Mayapple. 

Capturing a photo of these is an exercise in attempting to get the camera under the low-growing plant.

Phacelia

Star of Bethlehem

These are a tiny bulb flower that has sprung up near my peonies. 

Oxalis

I find these growing in clumps in the shady wooded edges along the rim of the north and south ravines on the property.

I haven't seen this previously and can't identify.

It is growing in a tangle of under-story plants. 

Common wild mustard--invasive!

Wild Honeysuckle.

Considered an invasive nuisance as it climbs trees and shrubs, clambers over fallen logs and fenceposts.

The sweet perfume is unmistakable.

Stump of an oak that grew at the far end of the lower meadow--damaged in the fire that leveled a former owner's house.

The oak became shaky and J. took it down several years ago.

Wild rose briars are tangled at the base, along with woodbine and other small plants.

The stump is being used as a picnic table by the resident squirrel families.

If you look closely you can see bits of hickory nut shells.

 

Mid-April

Native dogwood in bloom during first week of April.

Petals were drifting on the wind as I walked down the lane this morning.

The first male hummingbirds arrived April 7th; I caught a very fleeting glimpse of a female yesterday. 

I've seen only a few bluebirds this year, a few robins, a male goldfinch wearing summer plumage.

Wild turkeys have strolled the edges of the meadow, squirrel families are cavorting in overhead branches and [unwisely] in the grass beneath the black walnut trees.

Woodpeckers are busily drilling in the trees along the ravines.

Clematis 'Samaritan Jo.'

Clematis Dr. Ruppel

Dr. Ruppel is the closet variety I could find locally to replace vintage Nelly Moser which didn't transplant from our first Kentucky property.

Duchess of Edinburgh

This is the most delicate of my clematis varieties, very frost tender and the stems easily broken during pruning or tying in. 

The full ruffled blooms make up for the plant's finicky nature.

Clematis Edita is being slowly smothered by her neighbor, 'Samaritan Jo.'

A feeble unnamed clematis succumbed to the late winter ice and snow. I considered buying a new plant, but have decided to move Edita to the vacant spot after blooming.

Delicate but thriving, 'Arabella'.

My favorite, Candida, always rushes into bloom, often having the first buds nipped with frost.

A delightful vintage variety, I've not seen it for sale locally, but apparently available from online sources.

Peonies in bud in the messy rough strip of garden by the lane.

No doubt our much needed rain will finally move in about the time the peonies bloom.

Two varieties of wiry-stemmed perennial pinks grown from seed. I used them to edge the wall of the south-west garden. As a few die out I find others sprung from seed in the grass below or beyond the planted strip.

First flower stalks appearing on foxglove. Note the dryness of the soil.

Achillea/yarrow originally grown from seed, moved to the corner of the greenhouse when two raised beds near the house were dismantled to accommodate the new front porch. 

The lean-to greenhouse was a casualty of the garage/shop fire. Strangely these plants were almost untouched. I'm planning to move them to a safe spot before the clean-up effort takes place in that area.

It is a delight to find that seeds of Lauren's Grape poppies landed in nearly every clump of perennials moved from the two raised beds near the porch. Some are nearly ready to bloom, others are tiny emerging plants. Several of the poppies have appeared in my daughter's garden, the seeds lying dormant in a clump of deep pink yarrow she transplanted late last summer. 

Billowing clouds moving in from the west at noon, but still no rain. 

March and April have typically been chilly wet months here.

Several years ago a hard frost in early May stripped new leaves from the trees and blighted the early garden.

Jim planted potatoes a few days before the fire with the idea of making another planting.

The extra seed potatoes were stored in the greenhouse along with small gardening tools, sprayers and such. 

There has been no time during the massive and grimy clean-up to consider more gardening.

I have about two dozen tomato plants started under lights in the basement; those have been transplanted to larger pots and crowded back under the lights, but my usual sowing of flower and veg seeds to be  grown on in the greenhouse isn't possible. 

I've been poking about in the large planters near the front steps--finding a few more poppy seedlings and a few self-sown pansies. I found a pkt of dwarf nasturtium seeds left from last season and prodded them into the soil of a large, rather battered pot. 

Willis-the-cat has been much interested in my efforts; he has always supervised my tasks in the greenhouse, resulting in trays of seedlings barricaded with plastic cutlery and twigs.

Deprived of the greenhouse, it will be interesting to see how he--and I--proceed this spring with gardening. 

Clean-up progress.

Jim and the friendly salvage man, D.B. have labored to remove the larger hulks of charred tool chests, tools and equipment, which have been hauled away

Salvage guy didn't show up today as expected, so Jim went to work removing the warped metal siding of the barn.

This is the view from the long north side of the structure.

It is dirty work. My only contribution is laundering grimy clothes.

We completed our inventory of tools and personal property lost, handed it to the insurance agent on Monday.

Now we wait for them to review, process and offer a settlement.

It is part of the insurance scheme that while we pay in for years, usually a claim is hard won.

We have acquired a MF tractor, a 2013 Honda Odyssey, a zero-turn mower, essential tools from Harbor Freight.

Jim has suggested we need an outing to one of the nearby farm supply stores to purchase garden tools.

I'm hoping this summer's garden might be of a more manageable size than previous years. That would be one good result from the unexpected devastation of the fire!

 

A Week Out From The Fire

My heart has always hurt for those who lose a home or their belongings to fire, flood or tornado. 

It was Jim's workshop/garage that went up in flames last Sunday, thankfully not our house.

It was a horrifying moment to look out the window and see this, only a half hour after Jim came in from using one of the tractors to 'turn' a strip of the garden. 

He always shuts off the gas line after using one of his vintage tractors; we have no idea how the fire started but it was immediately unmanageable.

Car and pickup had been filled with gas on the Thursday, there were three tractors, the zero turn mower, chain saws, all containing gas.

The explosions as the fire enveloped each one were deafening--much as I imagine bombs going off. 

My hands shook as I used the landline phone to dial 911; I had trouble stating our address to the dispatcher. It was as though my brain was working very slowly.

The loss of the building, our vehicles, all of Jim's tools and equipment, his tractors, difficult to process.

Family members have been wonderful, driving at speed to arrive here as fire trucks from several local volunteer brigades came roaring in. 

Neighbors assembled, I learned later that two of the utility trucks on the scene belonged to the power company and the forestry service respectively--the forestry people because our acreage is surrounded on three sides by wooded ravines.

The wind was blowing, as it has for days, hurling heat and flames toward the house. 

As I stood in wordless fear, the wind suddenly changed--and I believe in nothing less than a miraculous intervention.

Our elderly cat, Willis, often naps in the lean-to greenhouse so I feared for him.

After the fire trucks left and the flames died down, he appeared from under the front porch and with great aplomb strolled to the remains of the garage, pausing at each bay to gaze at the wreckage.

I have detailed on Facebook the fire and the tremendous job of cleanup and replacement that is underway.

I find I don't want to write more at present of the ordeal.

We are beyond thankful for the help from family, the kindly outreach of friends and church members. 

We have the loan of grandson D's truck; there is the vintage Ram Charger that was safely stored in son H's garage. 

Our daughter loaned a car that intimidated me--my Honda CR-V was 13 years old and I never did use all its capabilities--G's Denali has a bewildering array of gadgets [apps?]

 The burned out vehicles have gone away.

Jim works a few hours at a time to pile crumpled metal, shovel debris [borrowed shovel and wheelbarrow!] and the cheerful salvage guy will be back this week to start hauling away the mess and pulling down the scorched shell of the building.

We are weary, but we have our home--a bit grubby with tracked in soot--but safe over our heads. 

I will remember that I used to drive confidently any vehicle available and can likely manage until we find the right replacement for my car.

Given the price of gas we were already consolidating our errands.

We are over-tired, brain-fogged, we are in the elderly category, but we've never been quitters!

Lord willing, we will get through this unexpected dilemma!

Jim walking stoically past the smoldering remains.

The dismal view on Monday morning.

A replacement tractor located nearby and purchased on Tuesday. A tractor is a necessity!

The vintage Ram Charger delivered by Howard and Shannon.

Matt arrived early Tuesday morning with a Troybilt tiller--and a fresh donut for Jim from the bakery in town.

Yard tools, carpentry tools from Howard's stash.

A lilac has bloomed--its sweet scent on the breeze brings me assurance that the rubble and the sour stench of fire will  be cleared away.

 

Typical March Weather

First showing of redbud, barely visible through evening rain.

We've had a weather mix, to be expected in a Kentucky spring; the spring season most anywhere is one of fits and starts--balmy warmth, rain, wind and chilly evenings. 

Most days thus far have offered a mixture of clouds and sun with brief showers.

Daytime temps have risen to the mid-high 70's F, causing the meadow to green and the wild daffodils to rush into their prime.

Driving today on the Dunneville RD I noted that the south-facing curve in the road that presents the first yellow blooms is now bare of flowers.

I have prowled about outside, clipped back the plants in the raised beds, counted 6 foxgloves that seem to have survived the late fall planting. Several more poppies have emerged along the edge of the raised bed by the front steps and three are growing in a huddle inside the newest bed. No sign of the lemon monarda that I expected would be perennial. Achillea raised from seed is flourishing in one of the black bins and will need a permanent home.

Signs of life have [amazingly!] emerged on all three of the buddleia. 

The resident squirrels are busy; phoebes are investigating nesting spots in the open alleyways each side of the shop.

Asian lady beetles have squeezed through the window casings in the sun porches in such numbers that vacuuming them seems the only way to remove them, with the result that the vacuum cleaner emits a rank odor whenever it is used.

My thoughts are as unsettled as the weather--decisions to make about my gardens; family concerns. Like many others I am distressed by the uproar caused by war and by the conflicting reports regarding it; how is it possible to trust a government controlled by unstable personalities.

Edgy, restless, distrustful, I'm waiting for the other shoe to fall.

I work outdoors as much as I can. If the afternoon is sunny, I brew a mug of tea, take a snack of sliced apple and cheese, sit in a rocking chair in the south-east sunroom, cats companionably sprawled on the floor--or in the case of Thimble--perched on a windowsill to watch the swooping of birds, the dashing of a squirrel under the trees.

So much is beyond what we can influence or control, in the greater world, and in our own small sphere,

Que sera, sera!

The fire-damaged magnolia in the lower pasture, still robustly blooming.

This photo gives an idea of the damaged stumps of the trunk that have been cut away.

Note that the remaining portion of the trunk is also compromised.

Two small clumps of wild daffodils growing in the underbrush above the south ravine.

I've thought of moving them to join a rescued clump near the east retaining wall of our house.

The lower magnolia is the hybrid, "Jane" coming into full bloom always a few days earlier than the nearer one, "Susan." Below are my two lilacs, not perfectly happy in our humid summers, but providing a nostalgic memory of springtime in New England.

"Susan."

Forsythia, where the curve of our upper drive joins the communal lane.

Clematis "Candida" rushing the season as usual.

All my clematis are showing some degree of fresh growth.

I planted common and lemon thyme at the base of the two growing on the large trellis in the back garden. The thyme has spread--which is good--the usual weeds, henbit/dead nettle, the other green and juicy ones that I haven't named are growing rankly.

This morning I wrestled with matted wiry stems trying to bring some order to the untidy clumps. 

Wind and rain this evening tearing petals from the magnolias.

To paraphrase Shakespeare: 'Rough winds do shake the darling buds of--March!'