Happy Holidays from Barney and the Ivy Palace

 

I went to the cabin today because the spate of warm weather (high 40s, low 50s) meant that buying daffodil bulbs on sale (12 for $3) was not out of the question, since I could plant them now.  I found Ev, as usual, listening to NPR full blast over the rattle of the generator, and NPR has been so sad these days; Ev took a break from it yesterday to listen to banjo music, because after the initial horror and knowledge, wanting to continually hear details seems . . . invasive, somehow.  Today Ev was reinforcing the walls of the cabin with 2x4’s, unsure of the possibility of rain and so not wanting to chance the installation of rafter #4.  I was fine with this since Rafters #2 and 3 were such a lovely surprise.

I wept with joy when #1 went up.

 I think this new roofline plus the 10" kneewall will be perfect for a loft. Mr. Chimney has to come up at least another 24", and then the chimney pot on top will make for lots of clearance.

 

Most of the doors and windows’ locations are now framed in, and the places for the 2 additions are also appropriately framed.  Ev is still grumbling and kvetching about the front windows, and I have told him that if he can find 3 double-hung 38” wide, 21” high windows, he is free to replace my planned awning windows with them. 

 

This is what I am planning on--3 in the front, right across:

 

Even cute little French windows would be fine.  But I can’t find ‘em to save my soul.

 

Now, I know that everything can be found and installed if one has enough of “the best,” as P.G. Wodehouse’s Bertie Wooster would say, but I am fast running out of the best.  Fortunately Ev is as bad as Barney when it comes to billing.

I heard a good Barney story the other day.  Barney was in addition to being the building inspector, the town handyman, and he had keys to everyone’s house in town, because you never knew when something was going to break and you’d have to call him.  He’d done some work for a guy in the center of town, and months had gone by and the guy hadn’t received a bill, and it was quite a bit of money.  He finally called Barney ‘s house, to ask him to send it so he could pay it.  Bea answered the phone and she was mad as a hornet.

“You’re just going to have to wait your turn like everybody else,” she snapped.  “You think you’re the only person who needs a bill?  Let me tell you, we’ll get to you when we get to you; in the meantime you just hold your horses and be patient.” Slam.

I do not feel Barney around the cabin.  I feel more the people who miss him.  I feel them watching me, and thinking about this place, that was such a part of the youth and spirit of many people in this town.  I grew up in Groton, near Fort Griswold, and the ghosts there are absolutely overpowering.  In a way, I still belong there, and so I’m a little adrift here at the border of the Natchaug Forest; nothing is speaking to me, nothing knows what to tell me to do.  I try to listen, though, because I’d do it, if I were told.  I’d do it.