Spring also brings rain, this year, record-breaking rain. Enough! Please! But no-one is listening, and we are pinned inside for the duration, it seems.
Me: “Something’s wrong. I can’t get on line.” I have two default reactions when my computer fails me. Immediately call someone, or Give up and do something else.
Larry: “Yeah, I can’t get on, either. You connected to the Wood?” Larry has but the one reaction. Keep trying. Swear a little, maybe, punch buttons, or keys in this example.
He usually succeeds, but the process is painful to watch, and so I have wandered off and pay no attention when I hear him talking to someone on the phone. “Okay, you can get on now,” he calls down from his office.
Here’s what happened: Our new internet company, Alyrica, seems to think it’s okay to send the customer’s bill ’round on line. No paper, duh. Which would be fine, I guess, if they happened to have the correct on-line address for any given customer. Viehl has an “h” in it. Such a small oversight, but these Viels haven’t paid their bill for two months. Cut them off.
NOT OUR FAULT! Our kids just laugh. Sigh.
Several weeks ago I got an e-mail from a friend, Mary Crane, from Minnesota days in which she sent a photo of our first house. A sweet little two-bedroom with a finished attic where we tucked the boys when Jenny arrived. See, kids, this is where life began. Remember? I know Jenny won’t, but Peter and David should:
Here’s what’s going on today at the present Viehl house:
Finally getting started on Larry’s fire pit. The area behind the arbor will be paved with stone, a wall eventually built, and an as-yet un-purchased steel barrel/pot/thing installed. The idea is to have a place to rest in the evening with a glass of wine, watch the stars, which are pretty spectacular here away from the city lights. Warm our feet by the fire. Maybe roast a pig from time to time? Catch some rays on a sunny day (what sunny day, you ask). The arbor will be planted with eating, as opposed to wine, grapes, and some herbs–I don’t know what all–set artistically around. Going to be room for a picnic table, too. All this is good because we’ll have no grass around the house for the foreseeable. Nice to have somewhere outside to park, mud being the only other option this year, looks like.
As it isn’t actually raining at this very moment, we’re heading out to do a little sawing. Everything else, conservation-wise is stalled until the ground dries out. I walk down to the barn every morning to greet the trees, the birds, the grass which is certainly getting too tall to be grazed now. Seems cows like tender, new grass, not the old, seedy stuff. Oh, farming. Not as easy as it looks. The ancient apple tree, entangled in years of blackberry vines stands forlorn in the rain. The banks of Little Sometimes Creek, crowded with vines, an old oil barrel, rusted farm fences, wait for rescue. Patience. But we are getting older each day and do not have the far vistas of time we once enjoyed. Patience is a virtue for the young, I think.
Oh for heaven’s sake. Go saw something and stop being maudlin. Check.