Five years ago today

Five years ago today, we stumbled into our new home, exhausted beyond belief. (For a review of that chaotic period of moving from our old place, see here, here, and here.) Honestly, we felt that move took a couple years off our lives. It's one of the reasons we've concluded we're never moving again, barring unforeseen circumstances.

We (mostly Don) have made endless improvements during the last five years. He graveled the driveway. He built a pantry and built a library. He installed the wood cookstove. In the barn, he's built two shops (the one Older Daughter uses for the woodcraft business, plus his "man cave"); built two storage lofts above those shops; built a storage room; and built a feed box for the cows. He addressed some enormous plumbing woes in the house (at which time he also built an outdoor shower) and we had a 500-gallon propane tank installed. He did some much-needed deck repair work. We had a massive yard sale to offload things we no longer needed. We fenced in a corral for the animals, fenced the pasture, and (obviously) got cows. Don partitioned the house, including a separate entrance and porch, for Older Daughter's quarters when she took over the woodcraft business. We fenced a yard for Darcy, began the installation of a comprehensive garden, and planted blueberries and peaches. He built a woodshed and installed a roof-runoff system for rainwater collection.

And this doesn't count a plethora of smaller projects, most of them accomplished by Don: Building gates, repairing a clothes-drying rack, installing fairy lights on the porch, improving a jar washer, making a shelf for holding cook books, random graveling projects, trimming an overgrown grove of trees, things like that.

This past year we (mostly Don) accomplished yet more projects. He built a deck storage room, as well as all the shelves, movable shelving units, and doors it required. We continued to build up the garden infrastructure, including the critical component of super-dooper high deer fencing.

Don built a cheese press. He started building an awning for the barn. He built a calf pen and milking stall.

We subdivided the main pasture. We fenced the sacrifice pasture.

This doesn't count for endless smaller projects Don has accomplished in the last year: Building and insulating a well house, building a door for the well house, installing a sturdy floor in a shed we hope to someday turn into a guest house, building a box for the tractor to transport stuff, building a haybale-moving platform, building a large firepit, and rocking in the corral.

And, of course, there's our writing: Dozens of articles, several inspirational romances, and our self-published indy romance.

So yeah, we've accomplished a lot in five years. No complaints.

Will wonders never cease?

As I mentioned earlier, we live in a very "fruity" area.

We have wild plums galore, both red and yellow.

We also have blackberries up the whazoo on every roadside and in many fields.

We have an infinite number of apple trees, both wild and domestic.

We planted four peach trees a couple years ago, which are doing well. The blueberries and strawberries are also thriving.

But the one thing we lacked was pears. We had two pear trees in our old garden that produced so heavily that every year I had to transform myself into the "Magic Pear Fairy" and flit through the neighborhood, bestowing the blessings of pears on anyone I could catch.

We have plans to plant a couple of pear trees here, but hadn't gotten around to it yet.

Then earlier this summer, we had a county crew come in and clear out the underbrush on some of our acreage.

This opened things up the land to a tremendous degree, allowing us to see yet more plum and apple trees we previously didn't know we had. And ... one pear tree!

Seriously. look at this mature beauty.

The pears are beautiful, especially considering the tree has been wild and untended for who knows how many years.

It's also unexpected. A pear tree. Who'da thunk? Will wonders never cease?

Two years ago today

It was two years ago today that we dragged ourselves into our new (to us) home. It was dark, it was raining, and we were beyond exhausted.

After the rigors of moving twice in two months (first moving into a rental, then moving into our current home) we vowed never to move again. What a chore!

But that decision has actually been good for us. It allows us to make long-term plans.We've accomplished a lot in two years, with lots more to do.

But we're not in a hurry. After all, we're never moving again, God willing. Twice in two months was plenty.

Our personal fireworks show

We are blessed to have two oak trees (and a honey locust) in our yard. This means – drum roll, please – fall color!

Living in the Inland Northwest means living with conifers. These are beautiful and stately trees, but they're, well, evergreen. The exception is the tamaracks (larches), which turn yellow and drop their needles in the fall.

But when I was a child, I lived in western New York State and never forgot the fall fireworks that happened every year from the deciduous trees.

So imagine my joy in having two gorgeous oaks in our yard. Even better, these oaks go through absolutely rapturous colors every fall, giving us our own personal fireworks display.

Interestingly, I documented the colors last year, and the leaves fell much earlier. They were pretty much done by the end of October. I think it had something to do with the heat and drought we had that first summer we lived in our current home.

This year, the leaves are still on the trees and still sporting glorious color. Moreover, leaves on trees all over the region are still peaking. We had such a wet spring that I'm sure the fall foliage is reflecting that.

Anyway, I've been watching the colors turn. By late September – weeks behind last year's schedule – just one branch had turned.

By October 10, more branches were sporting color.

What is it about colored leaves that just rivets me?

The honey locust doesn't make flamboyant colors like the oaks, but it turns yellow and adds to the overall cheer of the yard.

In fact, it's the fallen locust leaves that carpet the path with such picturesque beauty.

But it's the oaks that steal the show. Kapow! Boom! Bang! Look at those fireworks.

During the evening "golden hour" a couple days ago, I took photos of one of the oak trees from the south side, where the colors are brighter (since it faces the sun).

The colors were so glorious, they almost looked fake.

Even Mr. Darcy seems to enjoy the show.

Soon enough I'll be raking up the dropped leaves and adding them to the compost pile. And then soon enough after that, we'll have snow. I'll enjoy the fireworks display while I can.

Some things are NOT worth saving

Last post, I described some things that are worth saving. In this post, I'll describe something that's not.

You might remember a post I put up last September titled "A tree in a million." I described a rare and magnificent American elm towering over an old farmhouse not far away.

For the longest time, I wanted to gather seeds from this magnificent tree, but the property was unoccupied (pending a sale) and I'm not the type to trespass, so I never got any seeds.

Well, the sale of the property went through, and the new owners (who hail from south of Portland) began moving their possessions to the property. Like us, they were moving a small farm as well as a construction business, so there was a lot of trekking back and forth throughout the summer. We met them in passing once or twice and they seemed like delightful folks, but that was about it.

I knew the century-old farmhouse over which the elm tree towered was uninhabitable and needed to be torn down (the new owners were temporarily living in a nearby town). But how uninhabitable was the house, really? I'd heard rumors, but that was it. From one spot on our property, we have an elevated view, and I could see the roof was trashed. This certainly didn't bode well for the inside.

In one of our passing stop-and-chat moments with the wife, I gave her our phone number and asked to see the interior of the house before they tore it down.

Meanwhile, these new owners (and remember, the husband's business is construction) started moving in and stacking up the components necessary to build a "pole barn"-style home. Their plan was to construct the new home on the footprint of the old.

On Saturday, the wife called and invited us over to see the place before they began tearing it down. It was also a pleasant opportunity to get better acquainted with these new neighbors (who are about our age and very nice folks).

Well, the interior of the house was every bit as uninhabitable as the rumors had indicated. There were many places the floor was not safe to walk on. There are two front entrances to the house, and this was the interior view from one of them. The "pit" visible in the center-left is a huge wood cookstove that has crashed through the floorboards below, which had become rotten from the leaking roof above.

I have no idea if the stove itself is salvageable.

Since the kitchen floor was so unsafe, we didn't dare venture into the back rooms behind the stove. I don't know if the new owners had even ventured into them.

Everywhere, the ceiling was in imminent danger of coming down.

We exited the first door and went into the second entryway, with a view of the living room next to the kitchen.

The inside of the home was surprisingly spacious. A hallway led to several back bedrooms. But I'm sure you're seeing the obvious.

Yes, black mold. Chest-high thick black mold throughout the entire bedroom and hallway area. Ewww.

Most of the black mold was lower, but in a few places it was creeping down from the top of the room.

The back rooms were in bad shape too, with chunks of the ceiling coming down and the floors rotting.

A hall closet had been fitted out as a pantry, with some jars of home-canned food still on the shelves. One was dated to the year 2000; a couple others I picked up had no dates.

The new owners had laid some boards across the threshold between the hallway and living room so as not to fall through the floorboards.

This is the back of the house. From this viewpoint, it doesn't look too bad, right? Nothing a little coat of paint couldn't handle.

But the inside of the house tells a far more tragic tale. The new owners have no idea how or why this venerable farmhouse was allowed to fall into such a state of disrepair, but there you go.

At the very least, the new owners got fourteen beautiful acres and a few smaller outbuildings for far less cost than if the house has been habitable. However they have a huge number of complicated tasks ahead of them: knocking down the house, installing a new septic system (the current one is trashed too, apparently), drilling a well (the house ran for a hundred years from a spring), and of course building a home.

As for that American elm tree? Now that I had a chance to see it up close, I was in awe. The truck is at least two feet in diameter and it's absolutely, positively one of the most majestic trees I've ever seen.

Fortunately the new owners agree, and intend to care-take the tree during the development of the property.

So there you go. Sadly, some things are not worth saving. This old farmhouse is one of them.