They finished the exterior today. The house is now weathertight. The house is more photogenic in morning light, so I’ll have more photos and more angles Wednesday morning.
A sneak preview
The exterior of the house is almost done. I haven’t put up any photos lately because I thought I’d wait until the exterior is done. Here’s a little preview, though. This is the uphill side of the house. I should have the final exterior photos Friday or Saturday, or, if it’s raining, I’ll have the photos Sunday. To get the light right, the photos need to be taken around 8:15 a.m. as the sun is coming up.
Update, Sunday, Oct. 19: Rain slowed things down a bit. I’ll have updates as soon as possible this week.
When the Frost is on the Punkin
My corn yield this year: exactly one ear.
What maple trees do in the fall.
I’ve never really forgotten this poem after we all were required to memorize it in the fifth grade.
When the Frost is on the Punkin
WHEN the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock,
And you hear the kyouck and gobble of the struttin’ turkey-cock,
And the clackin’ of the guineys, and the cluckin’ of the hens,
And the rooster’s hallylooyer as he tiptoes on the fence;
O, it’s then the time a feller is a-feelin’ at his best,
With the risin’ sun to greet him from a night of peaceful rest,
As he leaves the house, bareheaded, and goes out to feed the stock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.
They’s something kindo’ harty-like about the atmusfere
When the heat of summer’s over and the coolin’ fall is here—
Of course we miss the flowers, and the blossoms on the trees,
And the mumble of the hummin’-birds and buzzin’ of the bees;
But the air’s so appetizin’; and the landscape through the haze
Of a crisp and sunny morning of the airly autumn days
Is a pictur’ that no painter has the colorin’ to mock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.
The husky, rusty russel of the tossels of the corn,
And the raspin’ of the tangled leaves as golden as the morn;
The stubble in the furries—kindo’ lonesome-like, but still
A-preachin’ sermuns to us of the barns they growed to fill;
The strawstack in the medder, and the reaper in the shed;
The hosses in theyr stalls below—the clover overhead!—
O, it sets my hart a-clickin’ like the tickin’ of a clock,
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.
Then your apples all is gethered, and the ones a feller keeps
Is poured around the cellar-floor in red and yaller heaps;
And your cider-makin’s over, and your wimmern-folks is through
With theyr mince and apple-butter, and theyr souse and sausage too!…
I don’t know how to tell it—but ef such a thing could be
As the angels wantin’ boardin’, and they’d call around on me—
I’d want to ‘commodate ’em—all the whole-indurin’ flock—
When the frost is on the punkin and the fodder’s in the shock.
— James Whitcomb Riley, 1853-1916
Technology traps
James Burke with a relay like the one that caused the Northeast Blackout of 1965
We all live in a technology trap.
One of the best documentaries I’ve ever seen, back in the 1980s, was James Burke‘s Connections series. In one part of this series, he takes as his case study the Northeast Blackout of 1965 to show how we all live in a technology trap and how we’re all in denial about it. I’ve often thought about, and made reference to, this series over the years. I recently discovered that you can watch it on YouTube.
As you watch this documentary, keep in mind that the power grid today remains old and balkanized. And the power grid is just one of the technology traps that we depend on every day.
Everyone is nervous these days about the state of the economy. Obviously there’s not much we can do. But it’s good for one’s mental health to do something. One thing we can do is take a little time to look around us at our technology traps and think about where we can easily and cheaply provide ourselves some backup.
Economic honor roll
Nouriel Roubini, top of the honor roll
Some of you may have noticed that I have deleted all my old posts about the economy and the politics thereof. My intent was to draw attention to an inevitable train wreck that independent observers could see clearly months and years in advance, but which partisan sources (and the mainstream media) denied or ignored. No one denies it now, so I am backing off on this subject. I have little to add, except maybe about the importance of making ready, according to your own individual circumstances, to get through the hard times ahead. Now is the time for getting to know our neighbors, and cooperating with them, rather than arguing with them.
If you’re interested in independent, nonpartisan sources of information on the economy, check out this article. My primary source of economic analysis for the last two years has been Nouriel Roubini. Roubini used to be scorned as ridiculously pessimistic. Now the media are all over him, because he foresaw it all and explained it in tedious, academic detail.
This raises the question, how can you tell when someone is doing their best to tell you the truth vs. when someone is telling you what they want you to believe? I’m afraid that’s a trick question. We’re all on our own.
In goes the Gothic window…
Standing in the hall and looking out the back door, across the deck, and into the woods. This actually is a shotgun house. That’s what Southerners call a house when you can shoot a shotgun through the front door straight out the back door.
The Gothic window array from the upstairs master bedroom
The trapezoidal windows in the upper living room, seen from the upstairs master bedroom. The trapezoidal windows had to be custom made.
Standing in the radio room (which is a balcony) and looking down into the living room
Interior framing detail on the Gothic window array
The Gothic window array, from the living room
From the front
I scattered a few packets of flower seeds this spring and made no attempt to cultivate them. Only the cosmos thrived.
This late watermelon is still growing.
Pickin' at Priddy's, Oct. 4
Every Saturday in October, Priddy’s General Store near Danbury has “Pickin’ at Priddy’s.” There’s a bluegrass band, and there’s always something homemade in a black pot. Dogs welcome. It runs from 3 p.m. until 5:30 p.m. Priddy’s General Store is three miles from my place.
Today’s band was The Plank Road. Oct. 11, Hubert Lawson & the Country Bluegrass Boys. Oct. 18, Henry Mabe and Friends. Oct. 25, Blues Creek. Nov. 1, The Jug Busters.
Taters a-fryin’
Brunswick stew
Brunswick stew
Pepper and crackers for the Brunswick stew
The Priddys’ Ferguson tractor
Good eatin’
The stage
Fried pies, $2.50
On the porch at the front of the store
Above the front door of the store. Note the Web site! Also note the reference to Frank Duncan, a local artist. Frank is a neighbor of mine.
On the porch at the front of the store
Inside the store
The address, 27016.
A San Francisco Jeep emigrated to Cheerwine country
Roof done
The roofers ran out of ridge shingles, and we’re waiting for that to be delivered, but the roof is pretty much done.
Also yesterday, the county inspectors signed off on the foundation’s French drain.
Roofing, Day 1 (of 2?)
There was quite a large crew working today, and a lot got done. I should have charged for parking. Here they are roofing the uphill face.
The two custom-made windows were delivered today. I believe the shape is a trapezoid. These two windows are part of the symmetrical window assembly of four windows that flank the fireplace in the living room. The windows in the living room will reach almost to the full height of the living room — 21 feet.
French drain is not very photogenic, but it’s very important. It’s a perforated pipe embedded in gravel and covered with a filter screen. There are, I believe, seven tons of gravel in the drain system. Very nice.
A half profile with the uphill face roofed.
Half profile from the downhill angle.
Roofing around, and flashing, the dormers took some time.
Update, Sept. 29
We’ve had more than two inches of rain here in the last week. It was the remnants of a tropical storm that came in from the southeast off the Atlantic. It came down slowly, and it soaked into the ground instead of running off. As a consequence of the rain, work has been on hold. A large load of gravel arrived today for the foundation drain system. I believe it’s called “French drain.” I have no idea what’s French about it, but it should do a good job of protecting my foundation and keeping it dry.
The day lilies loved the rain. The grass and clover I planted last week is germinating profusely. The new grass and clover is too tiny for my camera to photograph.
It continues to amaze me the resources nature has for holding onto, and creating, soil, as long as there’s some light, some water, and some nutrients. This fast-running weed seems to particularly like stony ditch areas. This is brilliant, because plants without runners would wash out before they get a strong purchase. There’s something for every niche. I have no idea how the seeds arrive to give these things a start.
Speaking of Lilies, this one is growing too. She weighed 6.2 pounds when she went to get her shots last week. She’s four months old now. The state she is in here is deceptive. She is not in a stop state. It is more a recoil state, because in just a few seconds she will spring up and storm down the hall. And speaking of French, she has learned to say, “Je suis terriblement mignon, non?”