You all know we’re a family fond of lists. We have lists for dry days and for wet days, long term lists, day lists, lists for big ticket items, stuff we’re pondering getting, things we want to get rid of, and the mandatory weekly shopping list; we even have (and we wouldn’t tell this to everyone) a list collating and cross-referencing all our lists. Happily, this week turned out to be a great one for List Deletification (ie: the act of crossing stuff off).
The Homestead garden is divided into different sections. This all sounds very “permaculture zones” and proper, but in reality it just makes it easier to work out where stuff is, eg: “Has anyone seen the secateurs?” ” Yep, you left them in the Clothesline Garden.” All that aside, something that made us all very happy this week is knocking the mid-season clean up of the Glasshouse Garden on the head. This garden is the half past on our continuous clockwise garden crawl; we’re now at about 20 minutes to.
While two of us tackled the garden, The Renovator was busy working inside.
Two on-going issues were also addressed this week.
One: The Homestead weatherboards/cladding/planks-of-wood-on-the-outside-of-the-house have been a cause for concern since we signed on the dotted line and this summer was earmarked as the year for attacking this. The only problem being we have no idea how to; this is a job for someone in the know. Those in the know in post-quake Christchurch are very popular people, replacing weatherboards is not a fun job and thus it had begun to look like it would end up a YouTube tutorial, sleepless nights, all-hands-on-deck Homestead production. Hooray and thank everything worthy of thanking: we have found someone willing to take the job on. Works starts next week.
Two: Communication with the outside world via the method made famous by Mr Alexander Graham Bell had become more and more tenuous. Static and nasty electronic squawks and moans punctuated our calls resulting in embarrassed bellowing and spiralling cell phone bills. The line provider called it an electricians job, the electrician wasn’t convinced but spent two hours deciding that. Finally we’d had enough! No more “to report a fault press 1” business for us! We kept pressing those buttons until we ended up with a real, living and breathing person who, once we’d made ourselves understood over the crackle, whoop and wheeze on the line, agreed action was needed. The lovely Stan arrived promptly the next morning, firstly ringing us from “the exchange”, then from a handset attached to a protrusion of wires by our front fence, and finally at our front door. Within twenty minutes he had the problem sorted. It was all to do with obsolete lines and unconnected wires or something. Who cares though, because we can now ring The Bean Counter at work and get him to pick up fish and chips on the way home! Life is indeed good.
The final list deletification was something we really hoped would not eventuate. After the whole Kormie affair, Quilla’s little mismatched family of chicks had gone from strength to strength. The six of them caught on to flock mentality incredibly quickly, meeting The Milk Maid as part of the mad scrabble of poultry each morning focused on the handful of wheat flung in their direction. On that dark list of stuff you hope never happens, we’d acknowledged the six of them may not see PoL (Point of Lay or Pot of Lusciousness, depending on the sex). On Thursday morning, only five little chicks were among the clucking throng. The little frizzle was found floating in the duck pond. Apparently death by drowning is pretty common in frizzles, who’s feathers are all askew and not so water resistant.
All in all, it’s been an eventful week; some good stuff, a little bad. Ain’t that the way life is, at the end of the day?