It’s really hot. I seldom go into the water unless I’m really hot. And I was really hot after watering the flowers, so I waded around the shallow end for a few minutes. Since a clean shoreline is a happy shoreline I am in the habit of removing floating weeds and debris (Coke cans are numerous. Lots of Coke freaks on Trego Lake, I guess.)
I pulled out a raft of floating branches and this handsome dude on YouTube told me it was a willow. He also told me how to propagate it. I’ve wanted to plant willows for some time now, as they grow fast and I like to watch them when it’s windy. So, I cut the wayward willow branches into 10-inch pieces per the Handsome Guy and put them in water.
This past spring, I bought six bare-root willows from Farmer Seed Company and they are definitely dead. Maybe these will work. No doubt they lived somewhere upstream successfully.
*An obscure reference to the movie Willow, which we watched 487 times when the boys were small. Mostly at Grandma Sheahan’s house because she had it on VHS. The only other choice in VHS movies was a National Geographic special on hairless cats.
Apparently, the Craic House doesn’t want to be painted. I just want to paint the eaves, (there are no soffits) since they aren’t covered in new siding and they’re looking pretty sad with the rest of it upgraded. So last week before Justin came to put siding on the rest of the sides (confusing), I climbed up there and started putting primer on the eaves. Much easier BEFORE the siding is in place, so I don’t have to tape off the siding to prevent drips.
So I hung off the top of the tall ladder — never a comfortable place for me — and started painting away. The surface is very rough with nails sticking through from the roof. Bigger brush. Yikes. That didn’t work very well either. The paint wasn’t getting into the cracks and imperfections. Then I heard a rumble of thunder . . . Zero percent chance of rain which is why I decided to paint in the first place. . . and it started to pour. Hmmm.
Sun came out presently, so back out I went only to repeat the process. Thunder rumble, downpour and it rained the rest of the day. Besides, everything was then too wet to paint.
So, Justin sided two more sides and what I’d painted with the brush looked pretty sad indeed. So, I resolved to use my handy dandy paint sprayer. Evidently I wasn’t a very good paint cleaner upper after the last time I used it, so I spent a couple of hours getting rubberized latex paint out of the nooks and crannies, but finally got it working.
The wood on the underside of the roof is old and somewhat beat up. Solid enough, not rotted, but water stains and weathered. So, I loaded up the sprayer with my favorite Zinsser Bulls Eye 123 exterior primer and within a half hour I could see right through the paint to all the staining. No exterior stain-covering exterior primer in my stash, so off to town. Which means being at least presentable, although I had paint all over my legs — the result of holding the sprayer in my lap while I fished paint snippets out of the nozzle — and well, let’s be truthful. I wasn’t presentable.
I looked at Zinsser’s website to determine exactly what primer I wanted: Bulls Eye 123 Plus. Ace didn’t have much of anything in the paint department but they did have three gallons of a different kind of Zinsser called Stain Cover, which the website had said was available only in California. Weird. Over to Hardware Hank, where I couldn’t get Bulls Eye Plus, but bought some house trim paint AND found a spray can of the Stain Cover. Not a terribly efficient way to paint a building — tiny cans of spray paint, but I don’t need a gallon half of which will be eaten up by the sprayer, which is a hog for paint. Along with the fact that it’s oil-based and I’d have to clean the sprayer with mineral spirits.
So far, the spray-can stuff is covering.
Meanwhile, I taped plastic over the entire building so I didn’t spray paint all over the new green siding. This was a study in patience. Yesterday I went to town — to ditch the big, frustrating, immovable futon at the ReStore YAY — and looked at both hardware stores for plastic drop cloths I could use to cover the building. Nothing.
On the way home, the neighbor down the lake was having an estate sale — oh. my. gosh. What a place. I stopped in and toured the house, which is a disaster — the basement was so moldy I could barely breathe. There was crap all over the yard, waterlogged boats in the lake, the dock made from two extension ladders balance out over the water. Indescribable. There were tons of salvageable items, but I didn’t want to touch anything for fear of cooties. But! I did find a roll of plastic laying in the yard that was perfect for what I needed. I dragged it back up to the house (didn’t want it to touch my body and/or clothes), took out a dollar and gave it to the Estate Sale Guy who didn’t want to sell that crappy roll of plastic for so little. But what could he do? I’m big and scary.
So, first thing this morning I started taping that plastic to the walls of the Craic House. Went along fairly well, although the enormous fiberglass ladder (that belongs to Justin) is so big and heavy that I was struggling with it. THEN, the wind popped up. I would no sooner hang some plastic than the wind would catch it and peel it off. 🙁 Crazy.
It’s been windy since I returned from town and I’m not going to attempt to spray anything. Hopefully, tomorrow I can nab a couple more cans of Stain Cover and get things primed and painted. Whether the Craic likes it or not.
Summer this year has been an endless string of beautiful days with bright sunshine and cool nights — for sleeping well. Although I’ve had to water the gardens occasionally, rainfall has been pretty timely. I try to walk down to the lake every morning with my coffee. Seems a better idea than diving into the closet that is now my office and facing a computer screen for the first few hours of every day. 😛
I’ll be sure to open this post next February when clingy old winter is holding onto my mood.
While I couldn’t be much help on the deck steps (it involved math. OMG), I went down to the boat and removed all the sides.
I really don’t know why I didn’t do this 33 years ago when we first bought the Chartreuse Monster. Back then there weren’t any elegant boats on Trego Lake so I probably thought it was normal. Chartreuse is not and never has been normal. I have painted it numerous times over the years and one year actually removed all the sides and rails. But this time I drilled out every one of those Lit-tle Tiny Rivets and popped off all the sides leaving only the rails. I actually think this is legal to use, as I see people now and then driving around with what looks like a Huck Finn raft with pontoons and a motor.
Mine has rails. Safe. Transparent. Invisible?
So here are the sides wearing their coats of many colors relaxing in the shade of a tree. They needed a rest after 46 years of living on a boat. I threw a little paint stripper on one of them to see how it would go.
Yikes. There are many layers of paint. All but the snot-colored stuff comes off easily. Under all that is a textured aluminum surface that may be a pita to strip. I’m thinking pressure washer, so once I get down to the chartreuse layer, I may try that. THIS was the color of our boat for many years. With a linoleum-pebbled-type floor that sucked. It hurt feet and was amazingly ugly. I had the boat re-decked and carpeted some years back. Like 23, I just calculated. Yikes. Again.
(Always begin and end a paragraph with the word Yikes. It really engages the reader.)
I do have to relate the Trim and Tilt Saga. The hydraulic trim and tilt didn’t work this spring. Always something, of course. So, I connected a couple of stray wires. Worked! Then blew a fuse. Replaced that, thanks to Phil & his buddy Mike (Mike ran home on a Sunday to retrieve a new fuse from his stash. I owe Mike. And Phil.) So then the T&T worked, but the motor was stuck with the prop out of the water. ?? Everything we did would not make that motor drop. Hours of YouTubes, asking questions on forums, trips to see Tom Cleveland at Lakes and Trails in Spooner. Nothing solved the Mystery of the Stuck-up Motor.
I complained. Hmm. Don’t like that word, but there’s nothing for it. I’m a veteran whiner when Bruce was here to spec the deck-steps job and he said he’d take a look. Bruce and I removed a bar at the bottom of the hydraulic assembly and Released the Motor from Stuck Up Captivity! Now the t&t hydraulics are under the water. Probably not ideal, you think? But the prop is IN THE WATER and the motor runs like a top. So, the boat would actually travel around the lake, but might lose its t&t assembly (over $1,000 for a new one online) in the process.
So, when I have a couple of strong young offspring here, (Kent, Brenda and Ansel are coming this next weekend) I might have them lift the motor. We can replace the strange rod that was preventing the motor from lowering and m-a-y-b-e the t&t will cooperate? Doubt prevails. But who ever fixed anything when doubt was involved? Sheesh.
The direction of the lake, that is. For years I’ve wanted steps off the deck that would take one directly to the lake. There were two reasons for this. Get to the lake faster, of course. (My mom said I was in a hurry to be born and have not slowed down since.) Second reason: ditch the damn rail that looks like this:
Yes, a fence. Between me and the lake. Geoff told me once that if I had a slide to the outside, it wouldn’t be fast enough to get me there. That was when we lived in Eau Claire and I wanted a door (and a deck beyond it) from the dining/kitchen to the backyard rather than walk through not one, not two, but three doors, food in hand, spilling one’s drink to even reach the back steps. We were pounding in the last nails of that deck (finally!) when Geoff got the news that we were moving to Spooner. 🙁 But really :). It’s all good.
So, the fence illustrated above is still there. But a much less complicated solution began to evolve when I ran into a guy I’d known in the past — he was performing at the local pub, which is called Hub’s Riverbend, but really should be Hub’s Pub, but I wasn’t there for the baptism of that establishment. Pity. I somehow remembered (even after a beer or two) that Bruce had once done construction in addition to performing music. I reintroduced myself and asked if he still did carpentry. And that was how the steps were born.
Not only did he use some of the materials I had on hand — that landing is two sections of dock that have been languishing at Libby’s for an eternity — but he let me help! I wasn’t much help, but I do have a cordless drill and for most of the stair treads I hit the stringer. Most.
It was beastly hot the first day and we did everything in our power to get out of that infernal sun (93 degrees), but alas, we were both pretty sweaty. The second day wasn’t much better.
Q inspects the job after the day’s work is done. She was smart enough to spend our work hours under the bed on the cool concrete. She’s cool that way.
See that umbrella? It wasn’t much help, but at least we weren’t scorching. I was kind of a baby and kept marching over to the shade of the nearby tree when I got too hot. Especially when we were digging. Bruce is smart. He designed the steps and landing for minimal digging.
See that deck edge? That now leads to steps rather than a four-foot fall onto the grass below. See that pile of lumber scraps? I’ll look after that tomorrow. Among a thousand other things.
Here’s the new unencumbered view. Just imagine it sans sawhorses. I’m delighted. No slide, but steps are a good alternative.
Every year I watch those little rascals as they flower, then produce tiny green berries. I seldom see them turn blue as by that time some critter other than me has eaten them. But this year I spotted something blue in the undergrowth of the woods so grabbed a bucket and off I went.
OK. So they’re not the big juice kind you get in the store. But they are uneaten by birds and bears. If I pick 1,472 buckets full, I might make a pie.
This is Ellie. This is the second year in a row that the Friends Into Spooner Hatchery (FISH) has partnered up with a couple of other groups to take dementia patients and their caregivers fishing. I participated again this year. First, we fish for awhile on the dock right in Spooner and each of us partners up with a person to help them fish. Well, Ellie was an experienced angler. I offered to put the worm on the hook thinking this fragile little pink lady would eschew the task. But she dived right in. I had to hold the hook for her, as her hand was a bit shaky, but we got the job done.
Then she caught a nice-sized bluegill (that picture is on someone else’s camera) and off we went again. After that, it was just a little tiny panfish chomping away on the worm, but we had a laugh over watching him chase it around and nibble off pieces.
While we were fishing, she told me she lived on Tozier Lake and that her husband had died 14 years ago. “Ohhh,” I sympathized. “How did he die?” “Bear got him.” was her immediate reply. Then she went on to detail how they were watching Dragnet and their little dog was barking, so they went outside to confront a bear attacking the dog. I’m speechless. “There was blood all over,” she said. More details. More of my sympathetic “Aww’s”
Awhile passed. We fished. Hmm, methought. Death by Bear would be big news. I don’t remember ever hearing about an actual death, although there have been many dog/bear and human/bear encounters over the years..
After fishing, we went back to shore where two DNR game wardens and the Hatchery guys were frying up fish and French fries — a delicious outdoor meal. When we’d finished eating, I took an opportunity to sidle up to the wardens and ask innocently if they knew of a bear attack in Washburn County that resulted in death of a person. Blank stare.
Tall Tale Ellie the little pink fisherwoman. HAHAHAHA