Your leaking thatched hut during the restoration of a pre-Enlightenment state.


Hello, my name is Judas Gutenberg and this is my blaag (pronounced as you would the vomit noise "hyroop-bleuach").


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Like my brownhouse:
   the coming eviction of Crazy Dave
Monday, July 13 2020
At some point today Crazy Dave launched into a full-throated obscenity-studded tirade that was easily audible across the ravine at our house 300 feet away. Crazy Dave is given to such behavior on occasion, though it was clear that what was causing this particular tirade was that he was in the process of losing his home. His landlord had moved out and the property under his rental cabin (along with that cabin) were now up for sale. Crazy Dave, his wife, and various dogs have lived in that cabin for at least twenty years, and Dave's mental issues suggest he's not one to adapt easily to change. He's had a good run living in that cabin, able to hike with his dogs for miles in the nearby forest and build various cairns and walls from the abundant bluestone (something he apparently started doing after encountering some of my stone structures). And he's had tolerant neighbors, understanding of his outbursts, gruff demeanor, and Rasputin appearance. Where would he ever find a place anywhere near as perfect for him?
Later today Gretchen talked to Tommy and Trish (Tommy being one of the sons of the old man whose vacancy was necessitating the sale of the property) and they said that Crazy Dave has been positively abusive since learning he would have to move out. They also said that there is now a bidding war on the property, driving it up well above the $425,000 asking price. This suggested our new neighbors would be wealthy outsiders, perhaps late-pandemic coronavirus refugees from New York City.
This afternoon a little after 4:00pm, I took the dogs on a walk up the Farm Road and the Chamomile Headwaters Trail, as Gretchen hadn't given them a good walk this morning. Along the way, I found a few chanterelle mushrooms (the first of the year) which I gathered and brought home. When I got down to the Stick Trail, I considered also gathering a large bolete (since they can sometimes be edible), but when I found that it was sheltering a red eft, I left it there.

For years I've had a pole saw: a simple curved saw blade on the end of an extensible pole. It works okay but can be hard to manipulate from the ground. For landlording purposes, then, some months back I bought a chainsaw-based pole saw. It consists of a small (if alarmingly heavy) 120 volt electric chainsaw on the end of a telescoping pole. This evening (while Gretchen and I discussed the pros and cons of buying the 43 acre parcel on Woodworth Lake) I assembled this saw for the first time since I'd bought it. Happily, (though not terribly surprisingly) I found that the saw at one end of the pole could be turned on and off by a switch near the other. Reaching with this saw out the windows of the upstairs bedroom, I managed to cut off some small limbs from the large (though fairly young) tree of heaven just east of the middle of the house. These had been brushing against the roof shingles and had started destroying them.

The red eft with a bolete in the Stick Trail today.

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