06-03-2019, 06:37 AM
The Yard Fence
We know we needed a place for the dogs to run and poop when we bought the house. We also knew we needed a place for our Free Range Feral cats to hide out. The plan was to fence in an area in the back yard and build a nice shed there.
Don't get me wrong. I constantly second guess myself about putting up a fence to block my view of the surrounding countryside. It becomes even more confusing when you know that as I write this Maeve is sitting out in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Not a barrier to her in site for miles. She rests there after the morning walk.
I'm old. I don't want to dig post holes for the fences. There is one guy in the are that specializes in fences. I hired him. He's going to charge me $55 a hole to set my fence posts. I'm going to follow him with putting in the rails and boards and the lattice. He's also setting my posts for the pergola that will sit in the center of the garden/dog run.
(Loose Dog Update: Just met Maeve at the front door. She decided it was time to come in)
Justin is my post hole digger. He's also a member of the Mewok Indian tribe. He's also not very good at responding to emails. Which if the rumors are accurate, that is not particular to him. It's a trait to the whole mountain region. They refer to it as mountain time.
I finally locked him into to coming on Saturday. The delay was okay because I spent the week tearing down a shed that was in the backyard and looked horrible. I met a lot of interesting creatures removing it, including plagues of frogs and spiders. Originally, one of the locals was just going to move it for me. We set a date for him to come and I never heard from him again.
Justin was to show up at 8:30. I got the email at 9 that he was running behind and would be here at ten. He showed up 11. Oddly one of his crew showed up 9 and then left.
Being on time is one of my pet peeves. My father drilled punctuality into me and it stuck. I hate being late. So, the fact that I'm dealing with the mountain time people is probably going to give me an aneurism.
I let it go once they got to work. I had already done the layout for the post holes should go. All they had to do was dig. Justin brought his father Buzz, his brother, and a neighbor Ryan. I figured they were going to bust this out and be done that day.
My post hole diggers had concerns. They feared that the gas and water lines were running right were they were going to dig the holes. Rather than use the motor driven post hole digger, they dug a couple of the holes by hand so they could stop if they felt the line. There was a lot of discussion of why they didn't find the lines because it should have been a straight line from the propane tank behind the house to the inlet valve on the house.
It was an ugly hot day to be digging in the yard. Buzz, Justin's father, told me Raymond is so hot and dry during the summer even the squirrels carry water canteens. But they persevered until late in the day. They were going to have to come back the next day because some of the holes were in ground so hard they had let them soak over night. The crew also diminished during the day. The brother went home with a pulled back. The neighbor had to attend a dinner for the Wild Turkey association in Oakhurst. I'm still unsure whether it was for the fowl or the drink.
Justin and Buzz showed up at around 10 to finish the post holes. I hid in the house because every time I would go into the yard, Buzz would launch into a conversation with me and work would grind to a halt. They were great stories. His grandfather Archie Leonard was one of the first two civilian rangers in Yosemite Park. He showed Rosevelt around Yosemite when he visited. You don't hear much about him because he had the temerity to marry an Indian Woman. This would be Buzz's grandmother. She owned 240 acres in a valley called Hetch Hetchey. The government decided an Indian woman didn't have the right to own land and took it from here.
I'm sitting on the couch when the phone rings (Getting the phones to work will be another chapter) Justin is calling from outside. He needs me out there because there is a situation. Sure. Fine. I grab my shoes and head out.
Justin and Buzz stand mournfully above one of the post holes. It seems they have found the gas line with their machine driven auger. They have nicked the line. They have shut off the gas at the house and the tank. The post hole digging will no longer be done today. Congratulations to me because this is the first gas line they have ever cut.
They spend the next couple of hours gingerly digging around the broken pipe so they can better see how best to repair it. They head off to find people to help them solve the problem. FYI: Sunday is not a great day to find specialized plumbers to help repair a gas line, mountain time or not.
They return later in the day. They have talked to one of their plumber friends. They are told the part they need to seal the line is available an hour away in Fresno. Well and an hour and a day since that plumbing supplier doesn't open until Monday.
No gas line means no hot water. No hot water means no showers or dish washing until Monday. That is if they fix the line on Monday.
We know we needed a place for the dogs to run and poop when we bought the house. We also knew we needed a place for our Free Range Feral cats to hide out. The plan was to fence in an area in the back yard and build a nice shed there.
Don't get me wrong. I constantly second guess myself about putting up a fence to block my view of the surrounding countryside. It becomes even more confusing when you know that as I write this Maeve is sitting out in the middle of the cul-de-sac. Not a barrier to her in site for miles. She rests there after the morning walk.
I'm old. I don't want to dig post holes for the fences. There is one guy in the are that specializes in fences. I hired him. He's going to charge me $55 a hole to set my fence posts. I'm going to follow him with putting in the rails and boards and the lattice. He's also setting my posts for the pergola that will sit in the center of the garden/dog run.
(Loose Dog Update: Just met Maeve at the front door. She decided it was time to come in)
Justin is my post hole digger. He's also a member of the Mewok Indian tribe. He's also not very good at responding to emails. Which if the rumors are accurate, that is not particular to him. It's a trait to the whole mountain region. They refer to it as mountain time.
I finally locked him into to coming on Saturday. The delay was okay because I spent the week tearing down a shed that was in the backyard and looked horrible. I met a lot of interesting creatures removing it, including plagues of frogs and spiders. Originally, one of the locals was just going to move it for me. We set a date for him to come and I never heard from him again.
Justin was to show up at 8:30. I got the email at 9 that he was running behind and would be here at ten. He showed up 11. Oddly one of his crew showed up 9 and then left.
Being on time is one of my pet peeves. My father drilled punctuality into me and it stuck. I hate being late. So, the fact that I'm dealing with the mountain time people is probably going to give me an aneurism.
I let it go once they got to work. I had already done the layout for the post holes should go. All they had to do was dig. Justin brought his father Buzz, his brother, and a neighbor Ryan. I figured they were going to bust this out and be done that day.
My post hole diggers had concerns. They feared that the gas and water lines were running right were they were going to dig the holes. Rather than use the motor driven post hole digger, they dug a couple of the holes by hand so they could stop if they felt the line. There was a lot of discussion of why they didn't find the lines because it should have been a straight line from the propane tank behind the house to the inlet valve on the house.
It was an ugly hot day to be digging in the yard. Buzz, Justin's father, told me Raymond is so hot and dry during the summer even the squirrels carry water canteens. But they persevered until late in the day. They were going to have to come back the next day because some of the holes were in ground so hard they had let them soak over night. The crew also diminished during the day. The brother went home with a pulled back. The neighbor had to attend a dinner for the Wild Turkey association in Oakhurst. I'm still unsure whether it was for the fowl or the drink.
Justin and Buzz showed up at around 10 to finish the post holes. I hid in the house because every time I would go into the yard, Buzz would launch into a conversation with me and work would grind to a halt. They were great stories. His grandfather Archie Leonard was one of the first two civilian rangers in Yosemite Park. He showed Rosevelt around Yosemite when he visited. You don't hear much about him because he had the temerity to marry an Indian Woman. This would be Buzz's grandmother. She owned 240 acres in a valley called Hetch Hetchey. The government decided an Indian woman didn't have the right to own land and took it from here.
I'm sitting on the couch when the phone rings (Getting the phones to work will be another chapter) Justin is calling from outside. He needs me out there because there is a situation. Sure. Fine. I grab my shoes and head out.
Justin and Buzz stand mournfully above one of the post holes. It seems they have found the gas line with their machine driven auger. They have nicked the line. They have shut off the gas at the house and the tank. The post hole digging will no longer be done today. Congratulations to me because this is the first gas line they have ever cut.
They spend the next couple of hours gingerly digging around the broken pipe so they can better see how best to repair it. They head off to find people to help them solve the problem. FYI: Sunday is not a great day to find specialized plumbers to help repair a gas line, mountain time or not.
They return later in the day. They have talked to one of their plumber friends. They are told the part they need to seal the line is available an hour away in Fresno. Well and an hour and a day since that plumbing supplier doesn't open until Monday.
No gas line means no hot water. No hot water means no showers or dish washing until Monday. That is if they fix the line on Monday.
As a matter of fact, my anger does keep me warm