The Beauty in Necessary Evils

There is never enough time to get things done on the homestead.  You wonder where the time went.  We spent all summer painting the outside of the house.  This meant power washing the exterior and watching pieces of paint and wood go flying all over the yard.  It looked like a ticker tape parade had gone through.

Next was spot scraping and repairing siding and molding from whence said pieces of wood went flying.  Then hitting bare wood with primer, and finally painting.  What we optimistically thought would take a couple of weekends (oh will we ever learn) took the entire summer.  That’s what happens when you're trying to get a major project done on weekends, and half the time you get rained out or some other commitment crops up.  You can only get so much done after work on the weekdays.

But we toughed it out.  It seemed like the never ending project, especially in the face of other things we wanted to do to get the house marketable.  We focused on getting the front done, so we could take pictures to put online.  Larry also put new metal on the porch roof, to match the rest of the house, which was done last year. 

It was a long, slow and sometimes painful haul, but we finally got it done.  We stood at the end of the driveway and thought, wow, the house looks fantastic!  Why did we wait so long to do this? 

Larry also built some sweet steps off the back door.  We’ve been using a variety of slippery, shifting cinder blocks for take-your-life-in-your-hands steps since he bought the house.  Getting the stairs built was a revelation.  It was a thrill to be able to open the back door and step out onto a platform.  It was awesome.  Again, we asked ourselves, why did we wait so long?

It wasn’t a matter of waiting.  It was a matter of prioritizing, of working on what we felt was the most pressing thing each season.  We’d spent almost ten years working on clearing pasture, dropping trees, fighting weeds and trying to get a good grass stand established, and working on gardens.  This year, with no horses and just five low-maintenance chickens, we let the pastures go, which was probably the best thing we could have done for them.  They grew in thick and lush, with not nearly as much weed action as we feared.

Larry also planted almost exclusively pumpkins in the gardens.  He wanted to do something low-maintenance, and they were just the ticket.  He also planted a few cabbage plants (which

the deer enjoyed immensely, thank you very much) and some basil, but the pumpkins became The Thing That Took Over Charley Hill.  They were a huge return on investment in volume.

It’s a sad truth that you get the home improvements and repairs done when you are getting ready to put the house on the market.  The whole thing is bittersweet.  But with no serious buyers at the moment, we get to enjoy our work for a little while.  It's a pleasure to pull into the driveway and see the fresh paint, the new lattice, the beautiful metal roof.  The house smiles.

And we'll take away the lesson - as we said to each other while enjoying cocktails on our newly painted porch – of not waiting so long next time.

A Weekend at Watkins Glen International Raceway

I’m still a little dizzy from the fumes inhaled at Watkins Glen International Race Course this past weekend, where Larry and I spent two days watching the U.S Vintage Grand Prix.  

It was a blur of MGs, Corvettes, Porsches, Jaguars, Mustangs, Ferraris, in every variation imaginable, and a ton of other cars I couldn’t identify.  Some went faster than others, but they all had one thing in common – the dedication and enthusiasm of the people who drive them, take care of them, and follow them around the country to various events.

Car racing has no real appeal to me.  This was a weekend for Larry.  WGI is probably most well known for its annual NASCAR race, but they have numerous other events throughout the year.  (Check out their schedule here.)

Not your typical race track, WGI is 3.4 miles long (for the long course) and includes a variety of turns.  Bleachers were stationed at various points, so you could go traditional at the front stretch grandstand and watch pit row, or sit at a corner and watch everyone brake into a turn (much like the Northway going into the twin bridges at rush hour).  

The stars of the weekend were the vintage cars.  It was a bit like stepping back in time to watch them, many from the early to mid-part of the 20th century, revved up and racing around the track.  The races were broken up into groups by vehicle:  small displacement production sports cars, pre-1973 formula cars, pre-war (which war, it doesn’t say, but I’m guessing WWII), GT cars, and a slew of acronyms that I never figured out over two days.

Brummmm! Brummmmm!

WGI is an expansive facility; our tickets were all-access, so we were able to go pretty much anywhere we wanted.  It meant we walked miles – miles – each day, but it was worth it to see how much Larry enjoyed himself.  We also hiked the equivalent of Mt. Marcy in bleacher stairs.  

Not being a NASCAR race, there weren’t tons of fans in the stands.  But the folks who were there, well, they love their cars.  Participants ranged from a few true backyard hobbyists to racers sponsored as much as Dale Ernhardt Jr.  From the classic car show to the motorcycle expo to the random string of classic VW buses, people were there to enjoy and share their passion.  Even in the garage, where drivers and mechanics were busy with all the intensity of a NASCAR event, folks took the time to chat and explain things and share a story or two.  

Garage row

Inside

One of the fun games to play, particularly in the garage area, was “Is That His Daughter or His Girlfriend?”  You get to use all your powers of observation and deduction to get to the right answer.  Sometimes an unassuming chat with one or both parties is necessary to come to your conclusion (Larry was particularly good at this).  Even then – who knows.

By the time we left Sunday, I had seen enough.  While Larry had me take his picture with every Porsche we passed on the way out, I was ready to stab myself in the eye with a spork.  But it was so worth it to see him enjoy himself.  

It reminded me of when dad and I would go to horseshows (as spectators, not competitors) all the time.  We dragged mom along once, and afterwards she said never again.  “You two have to stop and look at every horse, every bucket, every bale of hay, every eye hook in the wall,” she said.  Dad and I said, “Well, yeah.”

Payback is, well, you know.

It's (Gonna Be) the Great Pumpkin, Charlie Brown!

This year Larry decided we should be pumpkin ranchers.

In search of a garden goodie that would not take a ton of maintenance yet yield an easily

Yikes!

salable product, he planted all pumpkins in the front garden.  Their leaves have now exploded, literally filling the garden, and blossoms are visible.  

The blueberries out back, after doing squat the last few years and being afflicted by some sort of creeping crud last season, are bearing beautiful fruit.  Larry also planted a few beets, cabbage for his sauerkraut (oh, the humanity) and basil because what’s summer without fresh basil and mozzarella salad?

This past winter’s long, icy grip is a not very distant memory.  When the sweat is running down my back, I remind myself of how I couldn’t get close enough to the woodstove last winter.  I will not complain about the heat this year.  Not once.  It’s become a personal challenge.  Anyone who hears me do so has my permission to slap me.

Our big news is that we’ve put the house on the market in anticipation of Larry getting a job transfer and moving to warmer climes.  In an effort to look more mainstream, we mowed our yard this year.  I admit, it does look nice.  I left a few pockets of wildflowers, where they were actually in greater population than grass or weeds.  They provide pretty bursts of color.  I wouldn’t exactly call what we have a lawn, more like evenly cut green stuff, which, from a distance, could pass for a lawn.  To my dismay, it all grows pretty fast.  I’ve gotten back into the lawnmower groove, which is good exercise.

The front of the house has been power washed, scraped and repainted, and the porch has been reroofed to match the rest of the house (kudos to Larry for working like a dog on all this).  Rehab projects take forever when you’re chipping away at them on weekends.  The painting of the porch seemed like the never ending story and I wouldn’t wish painting lattice on my worst enemy.

When it was done, though, Larry couldn’t stop admiring how much better it all looked.  “We should have done this years ago,” he said, and it was hard to disagree.  We didn’t because we were always too busy working out back on pastures, which have gone by the wayside this year.

And we still have our Final Five chickens.  Tough old broads, they are.  They’ve become fixtures, following us around and gracing us with one to three eggs a day.  

I’m enjoying the yard more this year – futzing with my perennials and doing small yard projects I haven’t had the time to do before.  I don’t have the niggling guilt in the back of my mind that I’m not doing enough with the horses, because they’re out of my equation.  I’m getting the itch to ride again, but it’s not a burning desire.  At least, not yet, not here.  I’m not sure where I’m at with that right now.

Meantime, we’re enjoying our summer immensely – watching the gardens grow, giving the house some long overdue sprucing up, enjoying our time together right here, right now.  And oh yeah, we need to cracking on firewood.  So I can huddle up to the woodstove next winter.