Farm Journal
Thoughts and images from life at Foster Road
- Journal Entries
- 60: JUNE 30, 2010
- 59: JUNE 10, 2010
- 58: MAY 28, 2010
- 57: MAY 13, 2010
- 56: APRIL 30, 2010
- 55: APRIL 19, 2010
- 54: APRIL 5, 2010
- 53: MARCH 19, 2010
- 52: FEB. 20, 2010
- 51: FEB. 14, 2010
- 50: FEB. 9, 2010
- 49: FEB. 1, 2010
- 48: JAN. 27, 2010
- 47: JAN. 20, 2010
- 46: JAN. 15, 2010
- 45: JAN. 10, 2010
- 44: DEC. 18, 2009
- 43: DEC. 15, 2009
- 42: DEC. 7, 2009
- 41: DEC. 2, 2009
- 40: NOV. 22, 2009
- 39: NOV. 13, 2009
- 38: NOV. 6, 2009
- 37: NOV. 4, 2009
- 36: OCT. 23, 2009
- 35: OCT. 10, 2009
- 34: OCT. 9, 2009
- 33: SEPT. 30, 2009
- 32: SEPT. 23, 2009
- 31: SEPT. 12, 2009
- 30: SEPT. 9, 2009
- 29: SEPT. 7, 2009
- 28: SEPT. 2, 2009
- 27: AUG. 29, 2009
- 26: AUG. 21, 2009
- 25: AUG. 20, 2009
- 24: AUG. 18, 2009
- 23: AUG. 16, 2009
- 22: AUG. 14, 2009
- 21: AUG. 13, 2009
- 20: AUG. 12, 2009
- 19: JULY 23, 2009
- 18: JULY 3, 2009
- 16: JULY 1, 2009
- 15: JUNE 7, 2009
- 14: MAY 31, 2009
- 13: MAY 25, 2009
- 12: APRIL 24, 2009
- 11: APRIL 21, 2009
- 10: APRIL 16, 2009
- 9: APRIL 15, 2009
- 8: APRIL 13, 2009
- 7: APRIL 12, 2009
- 6: APRIL 1, 2009
- 5: MARCH 2009
- 4: FEBRUARY 2009
- 3: JANUARY 2009
- 2: DECEMBER 2008
- 1: OCTOBER 2008
Tidy WhiteyThirty seven. That’s how many wet painted boards I can stack on the makeshift shelves Clark nailed up for me in the garage.
My first priming weekend was a torture. Temperatures hovered in the single digits and my little space heater could only made it within four feet of it’s little grille. I could see my breath as I worked, bundled in grungy layers and old garden gloves. And the quick-dry primer was still tacky the next day so one load, one side, was all I could accomplish that weekend. Half of thirty seven with hundreds to go.
Clark left me his kerosene heater. It’s like a giant log on wheels that blows masses of warmed air into the room. But it malfunctioned after about an hour and went out in a cloud of black smoke. I reeked of fumes in my hair, my clothes. That night, soap and water never smelled so good.
The pile of primed siding has gotten respectably higher. My left arm has been rewarded with tendonitis for all my efforts, but it’s satisfying to see the pile growing steadily. While I work I have time to reflect, dream about warmer weather, and ask myself again: what the heck am I doing?
