Roofing

I don’t know much about the roofing, since I am next door and I don’t look through the trees much to see how things are going.

Alice and I did walk over to see how things were going mid-afternoon.

Dave Wood was up on the roof with Doral and Richard. I went to take a picture, but they were peering to the lake side, so all I was getting was their backsides.

 “No use me taking that.”

“Not much interest there,” replied Greg.

He was standing on the ground, the man who was handing the long sheets of metal up to the three on the roof.

Miranda and I both worry when Richard comes quickly in the door and calls out her name.

I always think there has been an industrial accident.

Usually it is Richard asking her to do a few more measurements to give them, but not all of the time.

No more puncture wounds to the arm or nails through shoes.

 Right now most everything is taken care of with a large bandaid.

“That is the smell of spring,” said Richard to Greg when the shakes finally got off of the roof and the sealing was put on the roof.

Richard told me that going into the cabin, and not having the roof leak was the ultimate in cabin repair. He can’t think that there can be anything better, though there probably can be, since there is still the electrical and the water to do.

The temperature today was about 10 degrees Celsius.

That is just right for work to be done, both on the roof and in the garden. I headed off to rake the leaves off of the grass up by the raspberries.

But I had to head down to the fire to pick up my aluminum wheelbarrow.

By the time I get my rake, shovel and small garden tools loaded into the wheelbarrow it is almost too heavy for me to put anything else into it that might be called a load.

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I did stop on the way up the hill to rake through the lilies that are by the grapes.

That would be, beside the grape vine that won’t grow.

I tend and nurse it, but it is in a spot where it doesn’t get enough sun, and after all I can do, it just won’t grow without that nice direct sunlight.

The lilies are going to take more attention than I am going to be able to give them.

 If I don’t pay them any attention, they will be peppered with other wild grasses, and that has happened other years.

I have a rose bush named LaRue.

When we thought that all our homes might have to be sold and we might have to move off of the property, that rose bush was dying.

Glen and Bonnie were pruning it.

Glen said to Bonnie, “Let us call it LaRue, for it has about as much probability of living, as we have of keeping the property.”

So I love that little white bush of roses.

I tried to train it to grow up on the porch pillars.

I asked Ron Treleaven how I could make it do that for I wasn’t having much success.

He told me that it is a rose bush, not a climbing rose, and that it was not going to do what I was asking of it.

So now I am content with little LaRue sitting there in the corner of the garden, and I try to keep some of the flowers in a vase in my house, as long as it will bloom in the summer.

Arta