Whirlwind
The vortex that may or may not be appearing in national weather maps just could be the whirlwind emanating from the homestead over the past fortnight and into next week. It all revolves around the task of getting ready for the upcoming gathering of the Professional Refinishers web forum of which I have been a member for many years.
The set-up I normally have for working on and in the barn might be just fine when I am there alone, but it is definitely not fine when fifty people descend on us for a week in paradise. You have no idea how large a four story barn is until you have to get it clean, organized, and safe for such a crowd. That’s pretty much what I have been doing from breakfast until dark every day, and after that comes Mssrs. Roubo and Studley.
Today was especially busy as I first was wrapping up the cleaning/moving of a huge pile of planer shavings (more about that tomorrow) when I heard a horn honking down in the driveway. It was the delivery of the two portable facilities, an absolute necessity given that the burden of fifty people would far surpass the capacity of our infrastructure. The fellow who delivered them was an absolute gem, as common sense as could ever hope to find.
He should be President, but the people would never stand for it. It is clear to me that they prefer grifters and poseurs, or when all the cards are played rightly or wrongly, a grifter who is a poseur.
While the delivery man was up in the barn with me, the the pickup truck bearing the freshly repaired lawn tractor arrived, so now at least we do not have to push a mower around the place.
No sooner did that conclude than the two fellows from the phone cooperative arrived to install the wifi extender, to provide for wireless service up in the barn 350 feet from the cabin. They did, and it does. The transmitter unit itself is an unobtrusive box with an integral broadcast antenna, sitting just above the front porch and aimed up at the barn.
And to conclude the day, the mason dropped by to scope out the final session in restoring the root cellar for the granary, which he will commence tomorrow and finish Saturday, just in time for me to reinstall the vintage chestnut siding just before the arrival of the hordes.
Back to rasslin’ with the string trimmer, knocking down some man-sized weeds.
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