So where are we at now?
The farmed fields next to Ed’s place are doing well enough. They seem green. Stuff’s growing.
The writer’s shed is a different story.
The old shed came down.
The wood was disposed of. Some was sold, some was burned.
The metal pieces were recycled.
The plans for the new shed were drawn. (And rerawn. And redrawn.)
The windows and doors were purchased. (What agony!)
The building helper (that would be Amos) was selected to, well, help. For a sum.
The insulation was purchased. (A terrifying ordeal.)
The land was cleared.
The trenches were dug.
The cables were buried.
The permit was obtained.
The siding and roof were ordered.
The landfill was purchased and dumped. (Anxiety!)
And now the issues begin to out-pace the progress.
The retaining wall holding together the eastern edge of the shed has to be reinforced.
The slope was created, but the cemented posts could not be dug in.
One digging machine failed. (Who knew that it was alergic to clay?)
A heftier digging machine failed as well. (You ask why? I cannot answer that.)
The guy with an even heftier digging truck never got back to us.
Amos stopped returning phone calls.
The mosquitoes wage war against us.
And still, we continue. I said this before: Ed has the patience of the world. It's a good antidote to spunk and haste. (I admit it. These are my bedfellows.)
I mean, it could not have been easy for the farmers next door either. Every day, late into the evening, they are out there, mosquito war and clay soil notwithstanding, working. Father and daughter. And just about every other combination of family member you can imagine.
