Did you know that raccoons chatter? I didn‘t, that is until we found five in the attic at “D” Farm. Believe it or not we have heard “critters” moving about in the attic and in the walls at “D” Farm during most of our visits over the last several years. We have never been certain what they were but speculated that they might be anything from mice or rats to squirrels, raccoons, skunks or opossums.
We have tried locating various possible points of entry and sealed those off to no avail. We actually thought we had it handled when we had several trees near the house removed two years ago, guessing that whomever it was had been jumping from the trees onto the second story roof and entering somewhere above.
Although it was quiet when I first arrived on “D” Farm this spring, by June it had become quite obvious that Guillie, Tipsy and I were not alone. I finally spotted the culprits one afternoon, peeking out at me from a vent in the soffit beneath the eve, over the kitchen window. There appeared three of the cutest little faces, all in a row, looking down; unmistakably baby raccoons.
Before the day was over, one found himself on the ground below. He went for cover when he spotted me there on the patio watching him. He went right for the old dryer vent by the back door to the sealed off portion of the house. It was almost big enough for him to squeeze through….almost big enough. While his little behind dangled precariously out of the entry in plain view, his front end was equally exposed from inside the house where the hose had detached from the wall. Oh, what to do?
It was time to call neighbor Kelley who came right away toting her trusty cage. We managed to push the little guy back out of the vent, the same way he had tried to go in but he eluded capture. We set the trap with food and water and leaned a panel of wood against the hole in the soffit hoping to encourage the others to come down, too.
The next morning the trap had been sprung and there inside sat mama raccoon.
It was obvious that she wasn’t particularly happy about it but then neither would one expect her to be. For the most part she laid very quietly but with a watchful eye as I moved about. I knew when she thought I was too close because she would hiss at me like an angry cat.
On the other hand, the little one that we had tried to coral the night before was climbing on and around the cage purring and chattering to his mom, trying to get closer to her. Before the day was over a second baby was down from the attic, playing with the first one. They were as cute and playful as can be, like a couple of kittens. There was a tremendous temptation to touch one. I can see why people befriend them and try to keep them as pets.
In order to catch those two we set a second trap with a bowl of food and water, right next to mom’s. After two days, they hadn’t yet tripped the cage even though they were dancing in and out eating and drinking at will. They simply weren’t heavy enough to cause it to close. So Kelley and I braced the lid open ourselves and watched for the moment when they were both inside, quickly letting the door close.
In the meantime we learned that there were actually still two babies, one on the ground and one still up in the attic. Those last two were either not as adventurous or they were more frightened than the others and their behavior showed it. Catching them would be even more of a challenge.
At that point, having no additional cages, we had to deal with the raccoons we had already caught. Under the direction of Kelley’s folks, we loaded up the cages and took off . We drove a number of miles north to a quiet wooded area near a creek. Mama coon took off right away and we assume waited a safe distance away while we released the babies. They required a little more encouragement to leave the shelter of the cage. We wished them well and headed back to “D” Farm.
It took another two days to roundup numbers 3 and 4. Those two acted completely different than their siblings. Once trapped they were like little Tasmanian devils, fast and vicious, growling and attacking the side of the cage whenever I got close. But we managed to take them safely to the same release point as the others, hoping they would soon be reunited…. And that my attic would remain unoccupied.
Friday, July 15, 2011
Monday, July 11, 2011
Critters Down on "D Farm"
There are plenty of critters in Kansas. When I say “critters” I don’t mean dogs or cats, horses or cattle, goats or sheep. And I should make it perfectly clear that I don’t consider critters a derogatory term; they aren’t bad. They are the indigenous wildlife. Because they were here first, I think we have a responsibility to at least attempt to coexist peacefully, even though we may sometimes find ourselves at cross-purposes.
One of the first “critters” I saw here on “D” Farm this spring was an opossum. Actually Guillie spotted it first. It was about midnight when he started growling from where he had been sleeping at the foot of my bed. Then he went to the slider door and started barking. It was pitch black out. I turned on the outside light but saw nothing at the time.
Guillie settled down after awhile but started up again within the hour. This time when I hit the light I saw it too. An opossum about the same size as Guillie, scurrying along across the yard about 15 feet from the slider door.
My first thought was, “How do I catch it?” I remembered that my neighbor Kelley has a live trap, similar to but larger than those we use in California to capture those pesky ground squirrels who constantly undermine the property with their burrowing.
I credit Henry David Thoreau for inspiring my second thought: “is there any reason we can’t just get along?” * I don’t know if possums do anything particularly good but, other than going after eggs, chickens or kittens (of which I had none….at the time), they don’t do anything bad so perhaps we can get along. I decided to leave him/her alone, providing he stayed outdoors, of course.
The same goes for mice. They can be mighty cute but they have no business in the house. And when you live out in the country, they are in the house ALL THE TIME! It is something we have struggled with for years using all types of contraptions, the most effective of which is my new cat, Tipsy.
Mice have done a lot of damage over the years at “D” Farm, chewing through anything they can sink their teeth into including all forms of paper, plastic, and cloth. Last year while I was going through some dressers upstairs, I opened a drawer and there was a little brown mouse with huge black eyes looking up at me, every bit as surprised as I was. “Oh, excuse me!” I said, closing the drawer again just as quickly. I felt as though I had just accidentally walked into someone’s private boudoir.
Moving right along: I don’t even like talking about snakes. I recall my grandmother going after one out in the garden with a hoe with great fervor when I was very young. Only once have I found one in the house. Neither I nor anyone in the household was willing to remove it so we closed the door to the room and waited for my brother to come for a visit to trap it. That was a matter of weeks later!
Here on “D” Farm, as in California, there are good snakes and bad snakes or, more accurately stated, useful snakes and dangerous snakes. I’ve actually seen my share of rattlesnakes in California, one of which struck my Jack Russell Terrier who, by the grace of God (after $1000 in vet bills) survived the experience. In Kansas I have heard horror stories about the cotton mouth water moccasin, copperheads, and prairie rattlers. But the more prevalent species like the black snake and rat snake are not only harmless, they keep the rodent population in check. So I try to keep my paranoia under control and make the effort to differentiate those that are ok from the others, once again so long as they STAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.
.
And then there are raccoons. See critters part two….coming soon.
*I have referred to Henry David Thoreau because I was reading Walden at the time of my opossum observation. In it Thoreau chronicles his experience living with nature for 22 months on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts.
One of the first “critters” I saw here on “D” Farm this spring was an opossum. Actually Guillie spotted it first. It was about midnight when he started growling from where he had been sleeping at the foot of my bed. Then he went to the slider door and started barking. It was pitch black out. I turned on the outside light but saw nothing at the time.
Guillie settled down after awhile but started up again within the hour. This time when I hit the light I saw it too. An opossum about the same size as Guillie, scurrying along across the yard about 15 feet from the slider door.
My first thought was, “How do I catch it?” I remembered that my neighbor Kelley has a live trap, similar to but larger than those we use in California to capture those pesky ground squirrels who constantly undermine the property with their burrowing.
I credit Henry David Thoreau for inspiring my second thought: “is there any reason we can’t just get along?” * I don’t know if possums do anything particularly good but, other than going after eggs, chickens or kittens (of which I had none….at the time), they don’t do anything bad so perhaps we can get along. I decided to leave him/her alone, providing he stayed outdoors, of course.
The same goes for mice. They can be mighty cute but they have no business in the house. And when you live out in the country, they are in the house ALL THE TIME! It is something we have struggled with for years using all types of contraptions, the most effective of which is my new cat, Tipsy.
Mice have done a lot of damage over the years at “D” Farm, chewing through anything they can sink their teeth into including all forms of paper, plastic, and cloth. Last year while I was going through some dressers upstairs, I opened a drawer and there was a little brown mouse with huge black eyes looking up at me, every bit as surprised as I was. “Oh, excuse me!” I said, closing the drawer again just as quickly. I felt as though I had just accidentally walked into someone’s private boudoir.
Moving right along: I don’t even like talking about snakes. I recall my grandmother going after one out in the garden with a hoe with great fervor when I was very young. Only once have I found one in the house. Neither I nor anyone in the household was willing to remove it so we closed the door to the room and waited for my brother to come for a visit to trap it. That was a matter of weeks later!
Here on “D” Farm, as in California, there are good snakes and bad snakes or, more accurately stated, useful snakes and dangerous snakes. I’ve actually seen my share of rattlesnakes in California, one of which struck my Jack Russell Terrier who, by the grace of God (after $1000 in vet bills) survived the experience. In Kansas I have heard horror stories about the cotton mouth water moccasin, copperheads, and prairie rattlers. But the more prevalent species like the black snake and rat snake are not only harmless, they keep the rodent population in check. So I try to keep my paranoia under control and make the effort to differentiate those that are ok from the others, once again so long as they STAY OUT OF THE HOUSE.
.
And then there are raccoons. See critters part two….coming soon.
*I have referred to Henry David Thoreau because I was reading Walden at the time of my opossum observation. In it Thoreau chronicles his experience living with nature for 22 months on the shore of Walden Pond, in Concord, Massachusetts.
Thursday, June 23, 2011
Bugs Down on "D Farm"
Caution: If you are squeamish about insects you might want to skip this story.
I am so sick of TICKS! Okay, so life in Kansas has some drawbacks. Most fall under the category of either critters, bugs or extreme weather.
I’ll start with bugs:
Admittedly, they’re not all bad. Fireflies are pretty cool. They are a flying beetle sometimes referred to as lightening bugs. They are very delicate but on a rare occasion as a kid I could actually catch one. According to Wikipedia, in their larvae state they are called glow worms. Evidently they are related to the glow worms I saw in caverns in New Zealand although I‘ve never seen a larvae in Kansas. The glow emanates from the insect’s lower abdomen through a chemical reaction called bioluminescence. (You’ll have to look that one up yourself.)
Even more amazing are what I’ve always heard referred to as locusts. It wasn’t until I looked them up on the internet that I learned that they are actually periodical cicadas They hatch from eggs laid in tree branches. They then drop to the ground and burrow down about a foot. They don’t reemerge until 17 years later (the east coast variety) or 13 years later (the Midwest variety). They then climb back to the surface through tunnels leaving small ½” holes in the ground which explains the mysterious little holes I’ve noticed just outside the back door at “D“ Farm. They emerge from a protective skin like a butterfly from its cocoon, leaving behind a neat little shell that I think resembles my P.T. Cruiser. Besides the racket they make, a loud siren-like buzzing noise when disturbed, they are harmless.
But ticks? Oh my! I am studying the art of tick hunting. Now that is disgusting! But you do what you have to do. I love my dog and dogs are powerful “tick magnets.”
My initial distain and disgust for the little critters is infused with a healthy dose of anxiety, probably instilled by the memory of my mom keeping a watchful eye surveilling for ticks on me as a child, and further fueled by a time when there were constant public service announcements warning about the dangers of contracting Lyme disease from ticks.
According to the locals, ticks are out in unusual abundance this year . So I have done some internet research regarding their characteristics and recommended methods of coping with their unwelcome but unavoidable presence.
It turns out that they can live up to two years and lay as many as 1000 eggs at a time! The only carriers of Lyme disease come off of deer and will only infect you if they have been imbedded in your skin for a while, not simply from contact or even a bite.
Ticks are tough and almost leathery due to the need to expand as they fill with their host’s blood. Therefore a tick takes some extra effort to kill. You can’t simply swat it like a fly or step on it like a spider. I usually try to tear it in two by applying pressure from a fingernail into its midsection.
As for removal, you hope not to leave the head imbedded because it will remain a source of irritation for months to follow- I pinched off the very first one that bit me when I arrived at “D Farm” two months ago and I can still see the mark. When I was little I remember hearing that they would release their bite if you burned them. I have also read that if you twirl them, they will get dizzy and let go. I can’t vouch for either method from personal experience.
Once you are sensitive to their potential presence, you can often detect them on you through the movement of their little feet crawling across your skin….but not always. The worst case is when you discover one that has already latched on without you realizing it. I find myself constantly running my fingers through my hair feeling my scalp. I remember the day when I had just finished jazzercise. As I was driving down street I nonchalantly reached up to my left temple and found one just inside my hairline. Eeeew!
Of course I have had poor Guillie under constant observation. Every time he comes back into the house I examine him. At one point I wondered why he had started keeping his distance from me. I have figured out that it is because tick inspections always end with discovery and removal. They have rarely been on him for long when I find them but many times they come off with a little tuft of hair and skin! Only one time did I actually need tweezers to remove a big fat one- but I know I got the head and all because once removed it was still alive and kicking, albeit not for long!.
I am so sick of TICKS! Okay, so life in Kansas has some drawbacks. Most fall under the category of either critters, bugs or extreme weather.
I’ll start with bugs:
Admittedly, they’re not all bad. Fireflies are pretty cool. They are a flying beetle sometimes referred to as lightening bugs. They are very delicate but on a rare occasion as a kid I could actually catch one. According to Wikipedia, in their larvae state they are called glow worms. Evidently they are related to the glow worms I saw in caverns in New Zealand although I‘ve never seen a larvae in Kansas. The glow emanates from the insect’s lower abdomen through a chemical reaction called bioluminescence. (You’ll have to look that one up yourself.)
Even more amazing are what I’ve always heard referred to as locusts. It wasn’t until I looked them up on the internet that I learned that they are actually periodical cicadas They hatch from eggs laid in tree branches. They then drop to the ground and burrow down about a foot. They don’t reemerge until 17 years later (the east coast variety) or 13 years later (the Midwest variety). They then climb back to the surface through tunnels leaving small ½” holes in the ground which explains the mysterious little holes I’ve noticed just outside the back door at “D“ Farm. They emerge from a protective skin like a butterfly from its cocoon, leaving behind a neat little shell that I think resembles my P.T. Cruiser. Besides the racket they make, a loud siren-like buzzing noise when disturbed, they are harmless.
But ticks? Oh my! I am studying the art of tick hunting. Now that is disgusting! But you do what you have to do. I love my dog and dogs are powerful “tick magnets.”
My initial distain and disgust for the little critters is infused with a healthy dose of anxiety, probably instilled by the memory of my mom keeping a watchful eye surveilling for ticks on me as a child, and further fueled by a time when there were constant public service announcements warning about the dangers of contracting Lyme disease from ticks.
According to the locals, ticks are out in unusual abundance this year . So I have done some internet research regarding their characteristics and recommended methods of coping with their unwelcome but unavoidable presence.
It turns out that they can live up to two years and lay as many as 1000 eggs at a time! The only carriers of Lyme disease come off of deer and will only infect you if they have been imbedded in your skin for a while, not simply from contact or even a bite.
Ticks are tough and almost leathery due to the need to expand as they fill with their host’s blood. Therefore a tick takes some extra effort to kill. You can’t simply swat it like a fly or step on it like a spider. I usually try to tear it in two by applying pressure from a fingernail into its midsection.
As for removal, you hope not to leave the head imbedded because it will remain a source of irritation for months to follow- I pinched off the very first one that bit me when I arrived at “D Farm” two months ago and I can still see the mark. When I was little I remember hearing that they would release their bite if you burned them. I have also read that if you twirl them, they will get dizzy and let go. I can’t vouch for either method from personal experience.
Once you are sensitive to their potential presence, you can often detect them on you through the movement of their little feet crawling across your skin….but not always. The worst case is when you discover one that has already latched on without you realizing it. I find myself constantly running my fingers through my hair feeling my scalp. I remember the day when I had just finished jazzercise. As I was driving down street I nonchalantly reached up to my left temple and found one just inside my hairline. Eeeew!
Of course I have had poor Guillie under constant observation. Every time he comes back into the house I examine him. At one point I wondered why he had started keeping his distance from me. I have figured out that it is because tick inspections always end with discovery and removal. They have rarely been on him for long when I find them but many times they come off with a little tuft of hair and skin! Only one time did I actually need tweezers to remove a big fat one- but I know I got the head and all because once removed it was still alive and kicking, albeit not for long!.
Thursday, June 16, 2011
Animals on "D" Farm, part one
Everyone knows Old Macdonald’s Farm was teaming with animals. According to my internet research there are versions of the children’s beloved nursery song that list as many as eight species; to wit, cows, pigs, horses, chickens, ducks, geese, mules and lambs.
On the other hand, animals have been conspicuously absent at “D” Farm over the last 25 years. It is understandable since, as a practical matter, it is almost impossible to maintain animals where there is not a fulltime resident. Thus provides me with one of the most compelling reasons to move here.
Animals were central to my Grandparents’ life on the farm. My grandfather raised Hereford cattle, a beef cow most easily recognized by its red color and characteristic white face and dorsal stripe along the crest of its neck. He had an especially handsome bull that he was quite proud of; Virginia made an art piece modeled after a photograph of him feeding that bull from a bucket. My Uncle Don tells me Forrest was also found of Shorthorns, but that was “before my time”.
My grandfather was also a horseman. My first experience with horses was on “D” Farm with Forrest’s cow pony, Pepper. She was a big, gentle quarter horse mare, at least 16 hands, I’m sure. My business card is derived from a photograph of Forrest and I on Pepper taken at “D” Farm in 1957. We have photos of all the grandkids on Pepper at one time or another. When we were very young we’d ride with Forrest, myself seated behind the saddle on Pepper’s rump, and my brother seated in front of Forrest. After my granddad passed away in 1963, Pepper was sold to one of his good friends who allowed us to borrow her during our stays at the farm in the summer.
At one time there was an apple orchard east of the house. Forrest liked to let Pepper graze out there. Sometimes he would take her out there with a halter and lead rope, then let my brother and I sit on her bare back while she was busy munching away on the grass. ( Pepper had a reputation for her love of food. I heard others laugh about how Forrest never needed to tie her when they were working cattle, just leave her where there was something to eat.)
Although I don’t recall the incident itself, I do remember him telling of the time my brother Dale and I both came flying off her when she stopped and shook herself as if to rid herself of some pesky insects and that we sounded like a couple of pumpkins when we hit the ground.
My grandmother, Maud, enjoyed keeping chickens, mostly bantams as I recall, although there was one big white hen. Because I liked her best, we called her Donna. If I remember right, my cousin Cathy had one named for her, too.
Maud had a large chicken house west of the house. The gathering of eggs was an assignment that very often fell upon the grandkids when they visited. For us, going into that big henhouse in search of the day’s eggs was like a treasure hunt. The real adventure began when there was a hen still sitting in the nesting box. Maud insisted that even the eggs beneath her be collected.
I keep chickens now and have learned, at least as an adult, that a chicken’s peck, when resisting either being lifted off the nest or someone reaching beneath her for eggs, is not life-threatening. But it certainly seemed so as a child. So I found some large black rubber gloves. I have no idea for what use they were originally designed but they were thick and practically reached my elbow. I always used them when on egg duty.
I remember the time when it was decided that the old hen house needed to be torn down. Evidently Maud grew weary of waiting for someone else to do it so she proceeded to do it herself. You might say that that was her style. And she got it done, too. Of course she didn’t have to take on the entire job. Once “the men-folk” took notice of the fact that she had one wall down, they swooped in to finish the job, fussing about how you need to start by removing the roof, before you take down the walls. If you ask me, Maud’s approach was quite effective.
.
Friday, May 27, 2011
:D" Garden update
When last I wrote about my garden, the length of the garden hose still presented a dilemma. I had managed to buy a supplemental hose to reach the garden and, although it reached the garden, there was nothing extra to reach the plants within the garden. That was two weeks ago.
Since then nature has provided a temporary solution in that we have had at least 6” of rain during that time. Between rains I have added another geranium, one with a showy variegated leaf with a pretty pink flower; a single strawberry plant; a crook neck squash, mostly for its entertainment value; a zucchini and a cucumber.
I am pleased to find that all of the plants have survived and are thriving to varying degrees; even my little butter crunch lettuce. There is still plenty of room for more.
As for the hose, I have concluded that an additional 100’ is in order! I have invested in fence panels to create an enclosure for a horse some 80’ west of the garden. He will need water, too.
Just a reminder- God causes all things to work together for good. Romans 8:28
Since then nature has provided a temporary solution in that we have had at least 6” of rain during that time. Between rains I have added another geranium, one with a showy variegated leaf with a pretty pink flower; a single strawberry plant; a crook neck squash, mostly for its entertainment value; a zucchini and a cucumber.
I am pleased to find that all of the plants have survived and are thriving to varying degrees; even my little butter crunch lettuce. There is still plenty of room for more.
As for the hose, I have concluded that an additional 100’ is in order! I have invested in fence panels to create an enclosure for a horse some 80’ west of the garden. He will need water, too.
Just a reminder- God causes all things to work together for good. Romans 8:28
Tuesday, May 24, 2011
"D" Farmhouse
We think that the house on “D” Farm was built around the turn of the 20th century, ie, the late 1800s/ early 1900s.
The original house consisted of a living room and dining room/kitchen area plus one small bedroom on the ground floor and three bedrooms upstairs. It was constructed facing north, about 40 feet south of what is informally referred to as the Lane Road, a road traveling east from the small city of Lane to the 59 highway in rural Richmond.*
It was several years after my grandparents purchased the home in the mid-1940s that they installed indoor plumbing, adding on a bathroom, enlarging the kitchen, and adding a laundry room at the back of the house with access off the back entry porch.
As a child growing up, the best part of the house was, without a doubt, the stairway to the second floor. It consisted of five rather steep steps up to a 3’ x 3’ landing, where there was a window looking out to the west, followed by a step up to a second landing of the same dimensions where you would make an 180 degree turn to continue up an additional three steps to the second floor. There was a simple wooden railing at the top with doors to enter each of the three upstairs bedrooms.
The stairs were a magnificent play area, made somewhat private by the fact that there was what I call a “Snyder Farm door” that closed it off from the ground floor. Now that I look back, the adults probably appreciated that as much as we kids did.
My Aunt Virginia and Uncle Steve added an additional 1200 square feet to the house in 1983-84. They left most of the home, as it existed at that time, intact, removing only the back porch and laundry room. They built a new kitchen/dining area, living room and master bedroom with 1 ¾ baths in an “L“ shape wrapping it around the original structure to the south and west.
After Virginia passed away in 1986, Steve moved to Florida and our mother bought the farm. For many years she would spend as much as six months a year in Kansas. But as the years passed, her visits became increasingly shorter, her stays reduced to just a few weeks a year. Sitting empty for such long periods of time took a toll on the house.
The house also fell into disrepair due to the severe weather conditions (rain, snow, hail, wind and extreme temperatures, not to mention the fact that it is out in the country).
It broke our hearts but last year Dale and I concluded that we would have to tear down the entire house and start over. It wasn’t our first, second, or even our third choice as to how to proceed. We had consulted two architects and a number of builders exploring the possibility of either repairing and remodeling the house in its entirety; tearing off the 1980s addition and restoring the original house; or tearing down the original house and refurbishing the 1980s addition and adding on.
The experts’ advice was unanimous: tear it all down and start over. Both the original house and the addition had fallen into such disrepair that it would be more costly to repair than to start anew.
* Lane Road was a gravel country road for as long as I can remember up until the county paved it in 2005. It was formally named Cloud Road in 1990.
The original house consisted of a living room and dining room/kitchen area plus one small bedroom on the ground floor and three bedrooms upstairs. It was constructed facing north, about 40 feet south of what is informally referred to as the Lane Road, a road traveling east from the small city of Lane to the 59 highway in rural Richmond.*
It was several years after my grandparents purchased the home in the mid-1940s that they installed indoor plumbing, adding on a bathroom, enlarging the kitchen, and adding a laundry room at the back of the house with access off the back entry porch.
As a child growing up, the best part of the house was, without a doubt, the stairway to the second floor. It consisted of five rather steep steps up to a 3’ x 3’ landing, where there was a window looking out to the west, followed by a step up to a second landing of the same dimensions where you would make an 180 degree turn to continue up an additional three steps to the second floor. There was a simple wooden railing at the top with doors to enter each of the three upstairs bedrooms.
The stairs were a magnificent play area, made somewhat private by the fact that there was what I call a “Snyder Farm door” that closed it off from the ground floor. Now that I look back, the adults probably appreciated that as much as we kids did.
My Aunt Virginia and Uncle Steve added an additional 1200 square feet to the house in 1983-84. They left most of the home, as it existed at that time, intact, removing only the back porch and laundry room. They built a new kitchen/dining area, living room and master bedroom with 1 ¾ baths in an “L“ shape wrapping it around the original structure to the south and west.
After Virginia passed away in 1986, Steve moved to Florida and our mother bought the farm. For many years she would spend as much as six months a year in Kansas. But as the years passed, her visits became increasingly shorter, her stays reduced to just a few weeks a year. Sitting empty for such long periods of time took a toll on the house.
The house also fell into disrepair due to the severe weather conditions (rain, snow, hail, wind and extreme temperatures, not to mention the fact that it is out in the country).
It broke our hearts but last year Dale and I concluded that we would have to tear down the entire house and start over. It wasn’t our first, second, or even our third choice as to how to proceed. We had consulted two architects and a number of builders exploring the possibility of either repairing and remodeling the house in its entirety; tearing off the 1980s addition and restoring the original house; or tearing down the original house and refurbishing the 1980s addition and adding on.
The experts’ advice was unanimous: tear it all down and start over. Both the original house and the addition had fallen into such disrepair that it would be more costly to repair than to start anew.
* Lane Road was a gravel country road for as long as I can remember up until the county paved it in 2005. It was formally named Cloud Road in 1990.
Monday, May 23, 2011
30 days in Kansas
Five types of weather, 6 of each:
Too cold,
too hot,
too windy,
too wet,
& just perfect.
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