The things I often forget to do or note. For example, I got no pictures of Ruth wearing my Stihl hardhat while mowing the ridge on her first ever use of the JD hydrostatic tractor. Or the last, long overdue dinner on Niagara with dear friends, Geoff & Barb. I forgot to mention that Cole and his girlfriend, Sarah, stopped by on Sunday. I also forgot to photograph them. A mind of single and boring focus is a terrible thing. There's so much more I would like to – should – comment on, but the level of physical fatigue is mostly overwhelming, and the urge to luxuriate in lactic acid overdose will not be denied. So, the proverbial flying joy is not shared as much as one might wish.
We were back to a full complement of workers up on Ruth's Ridge today. Given the uncertainty of the weather forecast for yesterday (Tuesday), Davis & Delaeno did a careful review of the work potential before setting out from Morden. As it was, we again received only a fraction of the forecast 15-20 mm of rain, all of which fell between 9 and 11 a.m.
D 'n D worked on the verandah lintels and posts, leaving me free to do more clean-up in the trees. I felled another three trees in the garage entry area, then sawed all of the ten or so felled trees to manageable lengths. Then we got to head home to a delicious mixed grille prepared by Ruth for us "woikers" and Claire, and Allison & Pete (with grand-daughter, Kate) just returned from holidays in Nova Scotia.
Today (Wednesday) the skies were again clear, with the temperatures around 13 degrees C. We started the day by weaving a maze of sticks above the great room. This task, perhaps the most complex to date, again required all of us. For a change, your humble blogger was the one perched at the top of the barely-secured trusses. I think Delaeno managed to capture a few photos of my terrified visage as I clung to the trusses with five appendages and hammered nails with my hardhat.
The Bros. Rempel got to work on the verandah trusses, while Davis & I, with Nathan's help, got 30 sheets of OSB up onto the loft floor in preparation for sheathing the roof. Then the white hairless monkeys ascended again into the loft canopy where we managed, by closing time, to have the north half of the loft roof sheathed, the sub-fascia attached on the north and west, and most of the west hip roof covered. Meanwhile Delaeno & Nathan had completed the majority of the verandah truss puzzle.
A wonderful, productive day. To add sweetness to it all, Manitoba Public Insurance called today to offer a generous settlement on the utility trailer that was stolen from our back lane in Winnipeg at the end of July.
The one bittersweet note was the death of our nearly 17 year-old Yorkshire Terrier, Judee, this afternoon. Judee was Allison's 12th birthday present 17 years ago this coming November. She fit into a teacup when she was brought home. I'd come to refer to her as the canine incarnation of the fabled Phoenix: she had been on death's doorstep more often than the number of her years, yet she continued – until this weekend – to bark her enthusiasm for a meal or a walk, and to demand the attention due a grand dame such as herself.
Over the past few years, in addition to encounters with German Shepherds, Rottweilers, a pair of adolescent skunks (I smell a pun there), deafness, blindness, arrhythmia, kidney failure, UTIs, tumours, loss of all but seven teeth, severe arthritis and God only knows what else, she continued to live with fierce determination and indomitable spirit. This weekend, looking rather unsteady on her feet, she exited a most unwelcome bath on Friday and immediately began a wild bark-fest when she sensed a walk was immanent. Back legs flailing wildly and unsteadily, she led the charge down Niagara toward Wellington Crescent. She actually did a block before sideline smells caused her to be swept up in Ruth's arms. On Sunday, the rapid and final slide began. By Tuesday morning around 4 a.m., it seemed she might not make it to daylight, as Ruth held Judee to her chest. But, true to her character, she rallied a little on Tuesday – just to make Ruth & I liars again. This morning, though, it was clear that her spirit could not fend off all the ills that had befallen her.
Ruth took her for one last walk to our vet's clinic, where she was ushered into that grand and limitless woolen mill in the sky, forever to chase and capture the rats that had escaped her in this life. Way to go "The Dude," Lil Dude, Dudilicious, Dudders. Love you, Ruth.
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