Goodbye old pine tree

We had a few trees removed today. Couple of dead/dying cedar trees and the big pine tree shown above. About half the limbs on this tree were dead and it was too close to the power line to take a chance. Once down we could see the tree was rotting from the inside so we made the right call.

On another part of the property there was a big (ugly) cedar tree in the middle of some gorgeous oak trees. It won’t be missed.

Our thanks to Cedric and his crew from Korte Tree Care. If you’re wondering, he’s wearing a “hard” cowboy hat.

Rocks and Trees

The Annex was designed as an earth-contact home with a big ass rock as the defining feature. It is a cool rock and serves (for me) as a reminder of the impermanence of my existence.


But those giant oak trees. For years the previous owner allowed ivy vines to cover these beautiful trees. Very damaging to the trees over time.

So my first task after closing was to cut the vines. The tree guy we use assures me the vines will die in coming months and within a year the dead vines and leaves will fall from the tree.

We’ve been calling the rock “Dwayne.”

The best neighbor… is no neighbor

We’ve been living in our home for 35 years. We built it in 1986 on about 3.5 acres of wooded land (A). In January of 2020 we purchased an additional 3 acres (B) when the lady who owned it died. Our closest neighbors (a woman and her adult daughter) have been talking about selling their home (C) for a couple of years but never seemed serious, until this year when they bought a house in “in town,” as we used to say.

One day a couple of months ago she told us she was going to put her home on the market. When she told me the asking price, I said we’d buy it. No inspection, no appraisal, no haggling. We closed on the sale yesterday at noon. We haven’t told many about the purchase because it happened pretty fast. But the first question is always, “So, what are you going to do with the property? Sell it? Rent it?” The answer is, nothing. The woman and her daughter are — in all likelihood — the last people who will ever live in that house. Why, you might ask?

Have you ever lived next to a really bad neighbor? It can make every day a living hell. But you could sell the place to some nice folks, you say. But you can’t control to whom they sell it, I reply. No, the best neighbor is no neighbor. And we didn’t buy the property for the house. We bought it for the towering, hundred-year-old oak trees. I think of it as a tiny nature preserve. The thought of someone cutting down those trees so their whiny little brats can have a swimming pool was… unthinkable. Or coming home to that TRUMP 2024 sign every day. Or their pit bull terrorizing our dog. No way, Jose.

To my way of thinking, we don’t really own the land. We own the privilege of living on it. Or saying who does or does not live on it. But we are nothing more than temporary stewards. And as we enter our Golden Years, Barb and I place great value on privacy. How does one put a price on something so precious? Oh yeah, did I mention the quiet? You can hear your heart beat. And at night the only light you can see is a yard light a mile or so away.

So we called the propane people to come get their tank. A plumber will winterize the house. The phone and electric are disconnected. And we’ll start giving away the appliances. What remains will be a big old storage building I’ve been calling The Annex.

This chapter is just beginning so watch this space for updates.

Gravel road


One of the best features of where we live is the gravel road that leads to our place. It comes up a moderatly steep hill and dead-ends at our driveway. It can be a booger in the winter and bone-jarring after a good rain. The roads are owned — and maintained — by our homeowners association so we all kick in to a road fund a couple of times a year. A few neighbors have lobbied for paving but it would cost a fortune and most of us are fine with living on a gravel road. A feature, not a bug.

Living at the end of the road, at the top of a hill, there is never any traffic. If I see or hear a car or truck it is a) someone coming to see us, b) someone coming up to turn around, or c) someone who is lost. I wouldn’t know how to put a price on that.

Honeywagon

A nice young man showed up this morning to pump out the contents of our septic tank. Watching him work, I was reminded of the slang term, “honey wagon.” Let’s go to Wikipedia:

A honeywagon is the slang term for a “vacuum truck” for collecting and carrying human excreta. These vehicles may be used to empty the sewage tanks of buildings, aircraft lavatories, passenger train toilets and at campgrounds and marinas as well as portable toilets. The folk etymology behind the name ‘honeywagon’ is thought to relate to the honey-colored liquid that comes out of it when emptying the holding tanks.

They honeywagon has a long history:

The honey wagon was originally a horse-drawn vehicle that went through back alleys to collect human excreta. Houses at that time did not have flush toilets or indeed any form of indoor sanitation beyond the chamberpot. In rural areas the outhouse (privy) is associated with a pit latrine of various sorts, but many towns and cities depended on some variant of the pail closet, which needed frequent emptying. At each outdoor toilet, the driver would stop the wagon, flip up the back hatch door (trap-door) of the outhouse, slide out the pail (bucket), pick it up, and dump the contents into one of eight oak half-barrels in the wagon box. The half-barrels had no lids.

Like the young man told me this morning, “Somebody’s gotta do it.” In the television and film industry, the term has a different meaning.

In America, the term honeywagon is usually given to a truck, trailer or combination of both with a number of dressing rooms for the actor. These either have individual toilets or a communal set built in. Some honeywagons will be just two large toilets. Others are a combination of variously sized rooms for specific purposes: these rooms can be private dressing rooms assigned to a single person, larger rooms configured for the wardrobe, or makeup departments, small individual toilets for the crew to share, and multiple user or individual shower rooms for bathing.

What, you thought Meryl Streep used a Porta  Potty?

Septic Tank

When we built our house 40+ years ago, we had to have a well dug and a septic system to dispose of sewage. I had reservations about both but the guy who designed our house assured me we wouldn’t have a problem with either. And he was mostly right. We had to have our well worked on following a lightening strike but our septic system has been trouble-free.

It recently occurred to me we have never had our septic tank emptied. In forty years! That didn’t seem possible but I’m 99% certain. So I contacted a company that inspects and empties septic tanks.

John and Jose showed yesterday and put a few hours of back-breaking work into digging down to our tank (18 inches) in search of the lid to the tank. They never found it (the lid) and had to cut a hole in the tank and install a “riser” with a new lid.

Looking down into the hole they cut in the tank, I could see the tank was nearly full. John explained that we had never had an odor problem because the tank and the drain field was properly installed, using good materials.

Like an aerator (see photo below). Most aerobic septic systems require a septic tank aerator to assist in the clarification of your wastewater. … This bacteria breaks down the wastewater rendering it harmless to the environment. If you have an aerobic system a properly functioning aerator is absolutely necessary. In the photo below you can see our had long ago given up the ghost.

In a few days the company will send a special truck to pump out the septic and — once it arrives — install a new aerator. If all this work sounds expensive, it is. But this is a part of rural living where skimping is a mistake.

Update (12/8/22): Smoke test

Wildlife: Snake!

Surrounded by woods, we usually seem some Copperhead snakes every spring and summer. hate snakes. And when I see ’em, I kill ’em, lest they bite one of our dogs. Not that hard to chop off a head if you happen to have shovel or hoe handy (you never do). By the time you drag the dog inside and find an implement, the snake has escaped.

A couple of years ago I bought a “snake grabber” and keep it next to our deck since that’s where they tend to hang out. You can grab the bastards and lock the grabber while you find something to send them to snake heaven.

It’s an unpleasant experience and a while back I purchased a .22 revolver and loaded it with snake rounds. Instead of a single lead slug, it’s like a tiny shotgun shell filled with little pellets. Can’t miss, right? Well, yeah, you can. Once a year I take the pistol out and fire a round, just to keep in practice.

This was less than three feet away and I managed to miss the snake’s head. So our first line of defense will probably be the grabber and a shovel.

UPDATE June 5, 2021: Riley spotted a Copperhead early last evening. About 2 feet long. Used the snake grabber to hold the thing while I sent it to snake heaven with a shovel.