the pull down!

This was the scene last Saturday morning, before the work crew did their thing.

It was a cool, crisp morning and the mist was rising off the river.

Then, creaking ominously up the hill, came the Big Blue Monster. He was hungry.

Incidentally, the bridge crew had the day off -which I can't remember happening since their project commenced. This was providential for us, as Don (member of the the bridge crew) was
free that day, and volunteered to run the equipment for us.

We didn't even know Don. Wasn't that nice of him?

He is a veritable demolition artist.

After the "pull down", Don dug large holes for our footings. Bill, Ben, and Don then set the lines for the extension of the back wing.

Since then, Bill and the kids have mixed & poured cement to fill the square footings. They also placed re-bar and sonatubes in the holes. The next step is to fill the tubes with cement (or concrete; I never know which term to use!) .

yellow & red do their job

My day started with a bang. A real one. A barrel-chested, humdinger, jump up and slap your grandma kind of a bang.

My first sleep-drugged thought was that maybe a large section of our house had fallen off.
That happens around here sometimes.

-like it did last week.

"Hey", inquires Jon. "I wonder why this fell?"
Matthew merely stands by, hand on hip, unaffected by such calamity.

Not really. They both were on the same page about the house crashing to the ground.

But back to this morning's noise. I creep downstairs in my nightgown to see what the clamor was all about. Through the living room window, I spot yellow.

Yellow is good. Yellow gets the job done.

Yellow is our friend.
Wait. I see something red approaching.
Something evil this way comes.

I slowly step towards the front door.

Red is here. It brings gravel.
Mounds and mounds and mounds of gravel. Enough to build another Tenochtitlan.

More than enough gravel to pave a road to China and back.

Red gets the job done, too.
Red enjoys announcing the completion of a task.
Red has a swinging metal door that, when it meets the back bed of the truck, shakes the dead from their graves.

Top 'o the mornin' to ya from the foot of the hill in Madrid, New York.

Demolition Derby

We are ripping off this 1959 addition and replacing it with a family room, guest room, office, and bath.

Everyone around here knows that when I say "WE", I really mean W.E. Hull, Lord of the Manor and Receiver of Undying Gratitude from Lady of the Manor.

In this picture, W.E. Hull is employing a crow bar to loosen things up a bit.
Please note the curious and blaring tone of pink on the walls. Also note the Adirondack-themed wallpaper border.

Good-bye, pink walls! Fare thee well, pine-cone and moose-bedecked paper!
Your days are numbered.

After the windows were yanked, this is how things stood. So serenely quiet!

And then the harumphing equipment arrived. The Cat was manned by this young man.:

He made many, many tracks in my yard. I would have said "lawn", but that would just make me cry. "Yard" is so much more....nondescript.

If the noise of a growling front end-loader doesn't rock your socks, this industrial jackhammer will. It will rock anything attached to your body, including teeth. It will also rock every nail in your house and every molecule in your poor brain.

A jackhammer of this magnitude will send housewives fleeing from their kitchens with aprons over their heads, begging for mercy.

"Do you or do you not want a new kitchen?" says W.E.

"I do." says Housewife.

-and that is not the first time she said "I do" and it changed her life.

The much-anticipated lunch break was taken outside. No one spoke much. The quiet was much too precious to waste. The only noise was the river tripping over stones at the bottom of the bank.
Large machines were then re-fired for The Pull Down.

I wanted to get a video of The Pull Down, but fear gripped me and I ran away.

CRASH.
I would like to thank the Demo Team for all their hard work. When I get my new kitchen, they will be richly rewarded.

summer says good bye.

This spate of days full of dappled sun, cool wafting breezes, and skies so blue they take one's breath away is summer's parting gift.

The mornings are crisp now, as crisp as the skin of an early apple. The sounds of construction from across the bridge sing brightly as they dance across the waterfalls, and they pepper the air with anti-sleepyhead messages: "Get up, you slug-a-bed. Time's a-wastin'. Grab that paintbrush and slapdash some primer on those window frames while the day is young."

School needs to begin in this house. The head schoolmarm is polishing her mental chalkboard with bustling ideas of the educational kind. Algebra 2? check. Botany? check. American Literature? check? Music? Physical Education? Modern Art? check, check, check. We are beginning a sort of literary circle which involves reading and food, two things that go well together, certainly. The first meeting involves a reading of Thornton Wilder's Our Town while munching blueberry scones and sipping hot beverages. This is the plan, anyway.

My trusty trim brush is getting a workout. New windows grace our old stone home and freshly painted trim is in order for all. As I carefully cut in with razor-sharp precision (ha), my neighbor the blue heron whets his stick-legs in bed of white froth at the bottom of the falls, hunting his breakfast. We both have work to do.

We serve dinner to assorted friends. Last evening found us on the front porch once again, laughing and eating. #1 Daughter presented us with her very first cheesecake, a culinary masterpiece without blemish. Topped with our choice of sour cherry sauce or wild blueberry sauce (or a dollop of each), it quickly vanished into our happy mouths and straight into legend.

As autumnal schedules commence, I linger while looking back over my shoulder. One foot marches forward, the other drags behind while wearing a damp sneaker perfumed with river water. Summer has made her mark upon me once again.