Fleet and Farm Trips
Dennis was off for his monthly visit to the VA clinic in our town. INR, aka: checks on Warfarin to make sure the clotting if cut or injured is on a safe level.
I headed out with my red stocking cap and gloves for my walk. What a difference from yesterday. As I was rounding the corner coming home, Dennis was right behind me.
Over lunch we had a visit in regard to our sump pump situation as it pumps out to the north portion of our lot. We didn’t have a lot of lineal feet before the neighbor’s drive way area. That underground drainage never gets a chance to dry out and it appears more like a swamp. It is becoming evident as the lay of the land is . . . a huge divot.
Several trips to our Fleet Farm store. Dennis is now working on taking off the exterior attachment when the water pumps up and out of the perimeter of the tile around the house to the underground tile. A black hard rubber hose will be attached at the house taking the water out to the curb. Of course nothing can be bought that works from the get go. The lengths are 25 feet and it will take several to do the trick. The piece to attach two of the lengths is taking some time to file down to make the fit work. Now . . . why wouldn’t they have the correct diameter to match the hoses that they carry. Dennis has the steel wool brush on the grinder and is taking it slow. Many stops to check, check.
Worst case scenario once that portion of the yard is dried out, some bags of garden soil will bring it back up to grade.
In between time I tackled a pair of jeans to shorten. It always amazes me how heavy denim is. It doesn’t like to be corralled and bunched up. A sewing needle that looks a bit like a mini spear to puncture the harsh fabric finish had to be dug out.
The hotdish from last night is out of the refrig to take the edge off of the cold to oven temperature. Leftovers are priceless!
The Lena Fern Peonies and the Fairfax tulips don’t know what to make of these changes from day to day. Should they grow . . . should they take cover until sunny days come one after another.
It sure doesn’t feel like Easter week. Sad times.