Archive for February 4th, 2012

Supper Time


What it looks like when I’ve been out and come home at the chickens’ supper time. They’re a little glad to see me.

Then they stand around and stare at me.

And follow me.

And track me to the cellar where they know the feed is hiding.

If I don’t get a chicken house soon, there’s going to be a coup.

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Problem, with Ramble


I have a little problem.

Let’s take a closer look.

It’s my culvert.

Just barely, you can see the cement that braces the culvert on this side. Way under water.

The culvert isn’t draining properly, and why is a mystery hidden under 100 feet of pipe.

That’s right, 100 feet of pipe. It might make sense to, you know, EVERYONE, to simply run the pipe under the drive to the barn here–and here only–

–and then release the water into the, you know, NATURAL CREEK. After all, what does the pipe need to do but let you drive freely to the barn? But no! That is not what has been done. The pipe runs way, way on across the rear barn yard, bypassing the natural creek and setting up 100 feet of pipe waiting to clog or collapse.

The bypassed natural creek bed:

The creek has been bypassed for 100 feet to let out way over here on the other side of the rear barn yard.

From there, it runs down a ditch to rejoin the creek where another (short and therefore properly working culvert) runs beneath the right-of-ways on my farm and then releases on out into the continuing natural creek bed.

Why such a lengthy pipe run was laid is a deep and mysterious question. For one thing, it sets up a situation in which you have a serious amount of pipe underground, and trouble awaits. Second, bypassing the creek means there is no naturally flowing water in the rear barn yard. The natural creek bed only has water in it after a rain–and that water comes from the overflow due to the blocked culvert.

I’ve tried all kinds of self-help and minor assisted-help. My cousin helped me dig out the release ditch in hopes that would improve water flow. When I had the septic issues in December and they brought a backhoe, I had them clean out the culvert, hoping for improved water flow. I had Sean and Sean (the superboys) get shovels one day and dig into the pipes (yes, there are two pipes at the start, then only one pipe coming out at the release point–why???) to try to improve water flow.

Nothing is working.

I believe the best solution is to dig up the pipe where it crosses the drive to the front barn yard, find out if anything is wrong in that section, then cut it off. Bypass the 100 feet of nonsensical pipe and release the water right past the fence INTO THE NATURAL CREEK BED.

Because I just can’t take this anymore. I can’t drive to the barn because it’s always wet. I need to drive to the barn to offload feed, materials, and sometimes hay. Some days, I can barely walk to the barn for walking through a pond.

I explained my plan to Dave and Matt.

They said, “Whatever you want us to do, we’ll do it.”

And, by the way, that right there is why you need a Dave and Matt. Or sometimes you might just need a Sean and Sean. Often times, you might need a cousin Mark. Or even a neighbor Jim or a neighbor Andy. Or even an old neighbor Skip. Or an old farmer Lonnie. But, ladies, what you don’t need is a man.

I’ve resolved to be a non-practicing lesbian. Let me explain. I coined this term some time back. In fact, I used it in one of my romance novels, though I can’t remember which one now because I can’t remember most of them. I had first decided to be a non-practicing lesbian back in my old farmhouse days. Back then, I tried to talk Georgia into being a non-practicing lesbian, too. We’d have a non-practicing lesbian compound! Georgia always found me amusing in a sort of baffling way.

Non-practicing lesbian means you aren’t actually a lesbian (that’s the non-practicing part), but you don’t want to be with a man (that’s the lesbian part).

This is especially handy if a man tries to hit on you. You just explain, “I’m sorry. I’m a non-practicing lesbian.” That really ends the conversation, ladies, because they are so confused. So write that one down.

You’re welcome.

I was talked out of my non-practicing lesbianism at one point, and I lived to regret it, so learn from me.

Now back to telling men what to do and THEY DO IT.

Dave and Matt will be here on Monday, and as God is my witness, I will never walk to the barn through a pond again. And when they’re done, they’ll leave. (This is a key component in non-practicing lesbianism. The men do what you tell them to do, then they leave. It’s totally empowering.)

P.S. I apologize to all of you who are happily married or etc. Carry on. Consider naught of my silly dribble.

The rest of you, take heed!

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The Slanted Little House

"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....

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