Tuesday, December 14, 2004
Oh, dear blog. I've neglected you.
But I'm back in town, as of Sunday night and ready to watch over the looming holes in the back yard for (pretty much) the duration.
First thing I did after getting in from the airport was run out to the dark yard to see what had been done, whereupon I promptly tripped over wires and strings setting forth lot boundaries and such. Oops.
The excavator motored in yesterday and, sadly, the cherry tries went the way of the mock oranges, because mismeasurements were made. That hurt, to see those trees in the maw of the dozer, raised to the sky like a few scraggly threads of saffron. So long to grow, so quick to die. Standing there, the foreman seemed to be trying to calm me, and Wilder the crew guy Friday answered, "Si ..." when I muttered -- on seeing the biggest cherry fractured and broken against blue sky -- that "you know, trees -- old like that -- they have souls."
The practical interrupts the sentimental when I make a mental note to delete "mature cherry trees" from the Galusha brochure, still in the proofing stage.
Today's predicament comes courtesy of the title company handling the Mabel loan, which points out a "fence encroachment" on the west side of the Mabel lot. The surveyor confirmed it and called it about 2 feet, enough to make the bank squirm and me try to figure out how to resolve it. Luckily, I met the landowner, who works in construction and may have met this obstacle before, but on the other side of the, uh, fence. Of course, this is expected to hold up the Mabel loan when I can least afford it.
But I'm back in town, as of Sunday night and ready to watch over the looming holes in the back yard for (pretty much) the duration.
First thing I did after getting in from the airport was run out to the dark yard to see what had been done, whereupon I promptly tripped over wires and strings setting forth lot boundaries and such. Oops.
The excavator motored in yesterday and, sadly, the cherry tries went the way of the mock oranges, because mismeasurements were made. That hurt, to see those trees in the maw of the dozer, raised to the sky like a few scraggly threads of saffron. So long to grow, so quick to die. Standing there, the foreman seemed to be trying to calm me, and Wilder the crew guy Friday answered, "Si ..." when I muttered -- on seeing the biggest cherry fractured and broken against blue sky -- that "you know, trees -- old like that -- they have souls."
The practical interrupts the sentimental when I make a mental note to delete "mature cherry trees" from the Galusha brochure, still in the proofing stage.
Today's predicament comes courtesy of the title company handling the Mabel loan, which points out a "fence encroachment" on the west side of the Mabel lot. The surveyor confirmed it and called it about 2 feet, enough to make the bank squirm and me try to figure out how to resolve it. Luckily, I met the landowner, who works in construction and may have met this obstacle before, but on the other side of the, uh, fence. Of course, this is expected to hold up the Mabel loan when I can least afford it.
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