More of the Same

 On a [rare] warm day last week J and H finished the installation of the septic line.

Even with the backhoe for the heavy digging, it was a long day with transit, shovels, lengths of pipe.

Willis, the feline overseer, was disgruntled by the rumbling presence of the backhoe, the upheavals of earth, changes in his familiar landscape, The cats who usually spend much of the day outside were intimidated and huddled in the camper.

Weather deteriorated through the week, again becoming damp and cold.

Wild daffodils ['March lilies' in local parlance] have bloomed along the roadsides and pasture slopes.

Jim slowed the car so that I could aim the camera at swaths of them nodding in the fine drizzle of rain.  So much trash litters the roadsides that it was difficult to compose a shot that didn't include sodden take-away food containers, drink cans, crumpled plastic carrier bags.

 Sunday morning the rain thickened to a sleety consistency.

Sitting at my tiny improvised desk, a flash of movement caught my eye. Gathering my camera I quietly approached the window and watched as a grey squirrel skittered about in the tangle of fallen branches, eventually uncovering a coveted acorn.

We worked at the house through the afternoon, Jim nailing wainscoat in the sun room, I applying poly to Howard's beautifully crafted bathroom shelves,

We walked back to the camper in a colorless dusk speckled by flakes of wet snow.  The wooden steps at the camper entrance were coated with a thick substance that was not quite ice.

Cloud cover broke at Monday noon, revealing vivid blue skies. 

Howard quietly continued his neat finish work--a fresh coat of white paint on window trim, nail holes filled, baseboards sealed and edged.

I polyed pantry shelving and then moved on to the sun room wainscoating. 

I was committed to using the remaining 2/3 gallon of oil-based polyurethane that Jim purchased.

I concede that it is a 'tougher' finish than the water-based, but I detest its slippery consistency and tendency to run.  Have I mentioned that the stuff has a sickening reek?

I persevered, up and down a stepladder, grateful for the sun pouring through the windows. 

Jim sorted lumber, ran down the electrician, demanding some input on why the electrical inspector has put us through endless delays for permanent electrical service.

Apparently, because he can and often does--a perhaps petty display of 'power!'

The rough-in inspection was done and passed in early December, now, belatedly, the inspector has presented a 'list' of modifications; it is generally agreed that any change orders should have been noted at the time of the original inspection, when they could have more easily been incorporated in the electrician's process. 

Obviously, we are at the mercy of the inspector's whims.

We worked last evening until the sun was sliding behind the ridge in a pool of  orange light.

I dragged off layers of paint-daubed clothing, stumbled into the shower to rinse the odor of polyurethane from skin and hair.

The night fulfilled the warnings for cold temperatures.  We woke to a glowing, frost-sparkled morning, and the unwelcome realization that the heat tape on the camper water lines had  ceased to function.  The camper furnace chugged non-stop.

Jim drove to a local hardware store for a replacement heat tape, then he and Howard crawled about adding extra insulation over the lines.

By noon the lines had thawed!

I've hung about expecting a phone call from the appliance store to confirm delivery of the kitchen appliances;  the phone call wasn't made and I rather doubt that the appliances have appeared.

I have unwisely attempted to coax the recalcitrant washing machine through yet another load of laundry; it appears that this time I may be landed with a tub of wet wash that refuses to drain and spin.

These are not life-changing dilemmas.  They are aggravations, frustrations seemingly beyond our capacity to change.

The main floor of the house is ready for occupancy--sun streaming through the [yet unwashed] windows, the wood stove pouring out a comforting heat.  The gracious spaces of bedrooms and living area await the arrangement of furniture. 

My own large washing machine and dryer could be set up in the basement laundry room.

The head-banging mood which has overtaken me today is, perhaps justified by delays and issues not of our making. My 'good sport' mode of endurance needs a boost!

That being stated, it doubtless behooves me to cease complaining and go out into the bright, cold, windy afternoon. 

The one bedraggled clump of daffodils on our property.

Willis, the intrepid, enjoys a spill of sunlight at the shed door.

Towering above the shed and marching along the ridge, red budded maples suggest that spring will arrive as it has always done.