I left work Friday and headed straight Up The Hill to my house. As I pulled around the circular driveway, I saw this:
Is that cool, or what?!?!?!?!
Here's what it looks like with the people door open:
Here's what it looks like from the inside looking out:
That wall is SO well constructed, the entire, flimsy garage is never gonna fall down, now.
Saturday morning, I put together this solar fountain. The solar collector is off the porch in the sun at the side of the house.
I've had that fountain in the box for more than two years, just waiting for the perfect place to set it up.
The contractor showed up around 9:30 and presented his bill with receipt for materials. Then we walked around and he showed me the work he'd done inside, replacing all of the Romex cable and installing three new junction boxes. The light fixture on the outside is going to be very nice and will come on at dusk and go off at dawn.
I'd already said I would paint the wall, so he said he would be back Monday morning to dig the trench for the underground conduit to hook up the electricity, cut a hole in one of the garage side walls, install the automatic chicken door, and secure the hardware cloth. MY "homework" is to prime the new wall and all exposed edges before he puts up the hardware cloth and trim.
The tree I need to have taken down is right next to the garage. I guessed it was 80-100 feet tall. He said, "You know, there's a way to calculate the height of that tree." "Ahhh, the Pythagorean theorem?" I responded, pleased that I remembered something from High School geometry. "You run up the tree with a measuring tape," he said, with a perfectly straight face.
He cracked a smile when I whapped him on the upper arm. I'm not in the habit of striking folks, but I thought that set-up deserved a gentle whap. (And he said the tree was a good 100 feet tall.) He said he "knew a good tree man." I blurted one of those doltish "Really?" reponses (like he would lie about it??) and he said, nodding, "Linda, everybody up here has to know a good tree man."
The tree will be felled, the branches "chipped" (I cannot help but think of the movie "Fargo" any time somebody refers to a wood chipper), the trunk cut into usable chunks and donated to the nearby community church for firewood. An appointment with "the good tree man" has been made for Sunday morning around 9:30 a.m. - I don't have to be there. He'll relay the estimate prices to me.
I had to come down the hill to load more stuff in my car, do laundry, and check on my flock, of course. I'll return Sunday morning,
MAYBE by 9:30. HHandbasket is going to help me paint the "Chicken Wall." (That's how it's listed on the contractor's itemized bill!) I'll spend Sunday night there; gotta go to the El Dorado County Planning and Building Department for the propane permit on Monday morning.
Back in West Sacramento, the flock was doing just fine. The new gosling boy is now named "Angus." Nobody minds his presence, he waddles around all over the place unmolested.
This is Angus doing what geese do: grooming the grass very closely.
And here he is following some of the roosters. Bartholomew, to the far right, is a HUGE BJG.