Time for a Kitchen Party

Well, I was able to keep to my hoped-for target of a working kitchen by the end of April.

When I first suggested to Ruth this interim goal, she said she'd rather not expect its achievement, as everything around here has been taking longer than intended. A very reasonable coping response, but I plodded on. So, it was doubly nice that both of us were surprised and pleased when, yesterday, the oven and cooktop joined the kitchen sink in being commissioned into service.

Ruth's delighted sporadic giggles are wonderful payment for the hours that went into installing the butcher block countertop and appliances. Being a one-man crew meant hauling up two 97 lb., 8 ft.-long butcher block slabs (plus two 6 ft. pieces) out of the basement on my own, followed by the 116 lb. cast-iron sink and the 146 lb. oven (this out of the garage). The butcher block was moved and repositioned many times, the sink got lifted onto the counter and then dropped into place, and the oven got pushed up a ramp and onto a Workmate in order to get into its hole in the wall. In summary, my geriatric fitness program continues apace.

I had a delightful surprise visit from my brother-in-law, Ross, this past Monday. He was in Manitoba for his son, Jotham's, university graduation and so he came to see what all the blog was about before heading back home to Vineland, ON. It was a treat to see the smile on his face and to hear him say that the photos of the location don't do this place justice. Ross has had a long-time wish to build his own place, and he says that following our build online has allowed him to live out that fantasy – although he doubts he'll do it our way now that he sees the price we are paying by way of lack of day-to-day or near-term creature comfort. I must say that I did not fully appreciate (other than in an abstracted intellectual way) how trying this interregnum would be. Ah well, every day is another day closer to completion... and completion is likely to be circa the coming Christmas at this rate.

That said, the days have embraced us with the delights of early spring. The ridge is now pretty much green, with all but the oaks having budded out. We've had our first rains of the year over the past several days, so I'm put in mind of Dylan Thomas' poem, the first two verses being:

The force that through the green fuse drives the flower
Drives my green age; that blasts the roots of trees
Is my destroyer.
And I am dumb to tell the crooked rose
My youth is bent by the same wintry fever.

The force that drives the water through the rocks
Drives my red blood; that dries the mouthing streams
Turns mine to wax.
And I am dumb to mouth unto my veins
How at the mountain spring the same mouth sucks.

On Thursday, Ruth had her second of four eventual surgeries to correct hand function as a result of carpal tunnel issues and arthritis. She now strolls around with a "Zieg, heil" hand posture, emitting dictates to the moustacheod pilgrim that is your humble blogger: "Wash the dishes; I can't."

So, lieing all around me are the guts of 25 packing boxes (packed by Ruth six months ago, unpacked by me yesterday and this morning) representing the stuff which now needs to be organized and housed in the kitchen cupboards. To the satisfaction of that end, I should now sign off and get the unpacking packed away.

Until next time.