“Saw a skunk walking along the woods,” Eric tells us on Wednesday last. “He’s just strolling along, don’t know where he’s living, but he’s definitely set up housekeeping.”

This is lovely news. Larry is about to work on the stack of large limbs left by the arborists. And where is that skunk likely to be nested? Woodpile? Seems possible.

Undeterred, Larry cranks the saw. He’s determined to prove to his skeptical wife that he can muscle the oak around by judiciously choosing his targets. And seems to be succeeding when I notice that he’s working right on top of our little friend. I wave my arms to get his attention and call him over. We watch as Skunk waddles out of the pile and off into the oak woods. And, as he’s absolutely left the neighborhood, and the danger is over, Larry keeps on sawing. I’m very impressed, though still a little concerned. Peter, when you read this, let me know when you can come back!

Later, Dennis-the-Excavator appears to discuss the location of the drain field, and timing of the work. Dennis is the definition of local, so I ask him. What about the skunks around here?

“Bad and good,” he tells me in his singular voice. “We usually don’t mind about them down here because they eat the yellow jackets, which prey on the honey bees. But you don’t want them under your deck.” Dennis is not given to understatement, so, no, we don’t want ours under our deck. “Can trap ’em,” he says. “But I wouldn’t bother. Yellow jackets’re a problem. Got a dog?”

No dog. So we’ll see.

On Friday, Vik and Gordon came down to check things out, give us some help on thoughts about furniture, lighting, and art work. To our surprise, there is quite a lot of space available for art, which we hadn’t foreseen when looking at the plans. We planned on a picnic, but with the workers crawling about, decided to take our sandwiches up to Marys Peak.

But we were stopped by a ranger before the summit. Seems they’re logging there, and it’s closed to the public, of course. We may, however, have lunch at the little park just down the way. And surprise, there’s a nice clearing, couple of picnic tables, restroom, and the added amenity of a young man with a guitar. Music while we dine. We find a flat rock to serve as a table in the sunshine, open the wine. Nice! But here comes the forest ranger. He writes up a couple of notes on two cars parked there, and we prepare to abandon our wine.

Not necessary. Because this is Ranger Bob. Maybe 65 years, a full beard, by no means full set of teeth, a good belly. He’s quite gorgeous in this way. And, as it turns out, hilarious.

“How long have you been a ranger here?” we ask.

Ah. Good story. He was a heavy-equipment operator, but woke on his 55th birthday and decided to quit. Too hard on the butt, he explained. And decided to go to college. Study biology and forest management. Well, he didn’t decide that right away. He’d give it a semester, and with that in mind, went off to his first class. Got there early to be sure of a seat next to the door to facilitate his exit. Announced that he was there for the parties and the girls. Told us he had to take statistics three times before he could graduate.

Unfortunately I didn’t get his photo. A pure study in not judging based on appearance! A college man, he says he’s embarrassed by the Forest Service’s lack of grammar skills, as exhibited on the signage for Marys Peak. Someone has painted in the missing apostrophe, to which I have earlier referred. Ranger Bob claims that the Service is not allowed to attribute ownership to any governmental property. Thus “Mary’s” Peak has to be “Marys” Peak. I have no reason to doubt him, and it does clear up the difficulty.

We spent the night in Corvallis, after dinner at Del Alma. The White-Davises went off to Eugene to see their grandkid, Jordan, a freshman at the U. The next afternoon, our grandkid, Amy, along with Allison and another mom-daughter pair arrived after their tour of the UO campus for a tour of the farm. While we could wish for a longer visit, it was a lovely 17 hours! Fingers crossed that Amy may decide to come to school in Oregon!

And to close this report, I’m attaching a view of the house seen from the driveway:

We’re heading back tomorrow to chat with the electrician. Not that exciting, but you never know!