Looking back at home goals 2013

Posted on January 13, 2014 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

The subtitle for this post is “On goals, to-do lists, excuses, guilt and mojo.”

A year ago, I was the annoying perky pixie brightly declaring the projects I was going to accomplish over the coming 12 months. Today, I’m the dour, scowling troll who depressingly growls that I’ve done nothing. I suuuuuuuuuck.

I had four goals for 2013:

Landscaping
Painting
Living room fireplace
Laundry room

I can cross not a single item off the list.

On landscaping, I can say that I did something. I built a new garden around the well, weeded one of the front gardens and planted a new border of grass, leveled the old fire pit at the top of the driveway, established a new fire pit behind the driveshed, graded the turnaround, laid a brick pathway across it and planted a few flowers. It was somewhere in the massive tear drop shaped expanse of dirt that is the turnaround that my work ethic abandoned me.

The garden was just too big. There weren’t enough plants in the world to fill it. We had just gotten a dog, and I’d rather spend my time with him. I have a week’s vacation, but we’re having record high temperatures, and I can’t really be expected to be outside gardening.

By mid-summer the weeds were taller than me and so thick that Matt–aka “he who does not garden”–took matters into his own hands and waded in with a shovel. It was clear that I had given up.

And that, ladies and gentlemen, is that last we saw of my mojo. People ask us often what we’re working on around the house. They usually find it funny when my response is, “Not much. I’ve lost my mojo.”

But it isn’t funny. Sure I was relaxed in the air conditioned comfort of my freshly renovated basement. Yes, I was bonding with my dog. But I was wracked with guilt.

When we hosted our annual month-before-Christmas party at the end of November, I realized that the walls upstairs looked exactly the same as they had a year previously–right down to the drywall patches. Ummmm, yes, welcome to my home. Can’t you just see what pride of ownership I take in it?

And now, a month and a half later, the walls are still not painted. In fact, I’ve added a few more drywall patches. I’ve sanded all of the walls (which previously were somehow the texture of sandpaper). I’ve mopped the ceiling (yes, mopped) and bought fresh white paint. I’ve slapped up a few colour samples. If anything, the walls are looking worse than they were before.

And what about the fireplace? Well, we got a quote. And then I threw up. Then I fainted. I said, “There’s no way.” Then we talked ourselves into it because “we’re going to have to do it sometime.” Then our solar panels application regenerated (I’ll share more soon), and we realized we needed every single penny, nickle, dime, quarter and dollar we possessed and then some. So all other projects, especially expensive projects like fireplaces, were put on hold. Although a warm roaring fire would have come in really handy during the ice storm.

And then there’s the last holdout from the basement reno, the laundry room. This one I’ll pin on Matt. See, the first thing that needs to happen is to fix the leaky foundation. Matt kind of fixed it by putting a piece of plywood against the wall to funnel water away from the house. We hadn’t had a leak in the house since then, up until this weekend when a mid-winter thaw resulted in a puddle on the laundry room floor. The wall really needs to be dug out and waterproofed. This task was on Matt’s honey-do list for the summer, but he was so burnt out by the time summer started that I delayed giving him the list until we were well into August. By that point, his mojo was in no better shape than mine, so outside the wall still sits with its plywood water guard and inside the laundry room is still in its original ugly state.

So that is the saga of my very unproductive 2013. I did say last year that my plan was to avoid any other massive all-consuming projects and spend slightly more time enjoying rather than working the farm. I guess I was successful at those two goals. I’m not sure that makes me feel any better.

However, it is a new year, and you can be assured that my lack of success last year is not going to stop me from setting more goals for 2014. Stay tuned for that next.

What about you? Did you set any goals for 2013? How did you do at accomplishing things around the house?

A painter’s premonition

Posted on January 10, 2014 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Matt’s grandpa was a painter. It was his hobby, and he was very skilled and prolific. Everyone in the family has a few of his works. This summer, Matt’s Dad came across a piece, and he immediately gave it to us. For our Christmas present, Matt’s parents had the painting framed.

It looks like it could have been painted at our farm.

What makes this a truly uncanny back to the future moment is that there’s a stump right at the edge of the driveway where the big centre tree stands in the painting. The small evergreens behind the barn ramp in the painting have now grown into our towering stand of pines.

Matt’s grandpa died in 1991. I never met him. With this painting, it feels like he is a part of our life at the farm in a very meaningful way.

Do you have any artists in your family? Do you have a painting of your house or property?

New Year’s Day skate

Posted on January 8, 2014 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Ice storms are so 2013. For 2014, ice is going to be fun. We started on Jan. 1 with a New Year’s Day skate on the pond.

Well, I was the only one who actually skated. Matt and Baxter just trotted around the ice rather than gliding.

Walking was safer than skating in some areas. Although the ice is mostly smooth, frozen coyote tracks here and there are tripping hazards.

A few stumbles aside, a skate on my own pond was a fun way to kick off the year. This is how I’ll take my ice from now on, please… at least for the next month or so. In July I’ll probably want it cubed and in a glass. Although with the temperatures we’re having right now, the pond may stay frozen solid well into summer #polarvortex.

How did you spend New Year’s Day?

#IceStorm2013

Posted on January 6, 2014 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Happy new year! I hope that you all had a great break. Thanks for waiting while I took a bit of an extended holiday. Our break ended up being a bit unusual, so for today I want to spend some time (okay, it’s kind of a long post, so perhaps I should say a lot of time) looking back before I dive into all that is new in 2014.

For some reason, I had my last post–my Christmas post–all set up more than a day in advance. I always have posts written a couple of days ahead, but I usually schedule them just a few hours before I want them to go live. I don’t know why I changed it up for this post, but I’m glad I did because by the time the post went live on Dec. 23, we’d been without power for about 24 hours. There was no internet on the farm.

However, it wasn’t just about not having any internet. We also had no heat. And we also had no water.

As many people are probably aware, a big ice storm rolled into southern Ontario on Dec. 22. Freezing rain coated trees and hydro wires, knocking out electricity to hundreds of thousands of people.

Power outages are not that unusual for us, so we weren’t too concerned when we heard the telltale beeps and clicks in the middle of the night as phones and other devices warned us they were no longer receiving power. By the time we woke up Sunday morning, the house was a little cooler than normal, so we snuggled down under the covers for awhile longer.

The fine print on the dogs are not allowed on the furniture and definitely not in the bed rule notes that exceptions are made during power outages on chilly winter mornings.

Morning Sunday: We were all disturbed from our cozy nest by a tree crashing to the ground right outside our bedroom window. Fortunately it missed the house, though I’m still not quite sure how. While Matt was content to investigate the situation from inside the house, Baxter and I headed out.

Ice more than a quarter inch thick covered the trees. The soundtrack to our morning walk was crack, crash, thump as branches broke, plummeted through the ice coated canopy and landed on the ground. We stayed well away from the treed perimeters of the fields, but I still consciously reminded myself which direction to run in case I heard a crack too close.

As we walked down the driveway to drag some fallen branches out of the way, we were surrounded by the scent of pine from the raw wounds on the trees in the forest beside the house.

Mid-day Sunday: We dug out the batteries to fire up a radio so that we could get an update from the outside world. I found the emergency number for the hydro company only to discover the line was too busy to reach even the automated system. We donned our hats and extra clothes. I sampled paint colours on the hall, kitchen and foyer. Matt graded papers… something he normally wouldn’t do until the very last minute. Baxter and I went for another walk. The crashing and cracking of trees continued. I flushed the toilet–muscle memory, I couldn’t help myself–and we were officially out of water.

For those not familiar with country living, we are reliant on our well for our water. Our well is reliant on its pump to provide us with that water. The pump is reliant on electricity to run. When the electricity runs out, we have the water in the pipes and that’s it. No more is flowing.

Evening Sunday: Darkness was falling, and the house was getting colder. We decided we needed a hot dinner, so we pulled the barbecue out of hibernation, hooked up the propane tank and retrieved a battered pot from our camping gear. I pulled out every candlestick we own and filled them with candles. Two cans of soup, some crackers, some cheese and pickles from our rapidly warming fridge, and we had a not-at-all romantic candlelit meal.

The only problem was, it was only 6 o’clock. We were done eating. Now what were we going to do? Scrabble followed by a marathon rummy session took us through to 9:30. I piled an extra comforter and two sleeping bags on our bed, and with hats on our heads, the dog curled between us and the radio playing, we went to bed in our 16 degree house.

Morning Monday: I have never been so happy to head to work on a Monday morning. Within 15 minutes of getting out of bed, I was out the door. That shower in the office bathroom was the best shower I’ve ever had. I had been wearing a hat for nearly 24 hours. I had not washed my hands aside from a cursory rinse in about 12 hours. I had gone for two vigorous walks with the dog. Let’s just say I was not at my best.

Evening Monday: Driving home my mantra was “Please let there be power. Please let there be power.” I turned into the driveway… and the house was dark. Matt had managed to get a shower at his parents house–they were also without power and on a well, but they have a generator that was connected to their water pump–but he had spent most of the day in the cold house marking papers and calling the power company only to be told they had no idea when our hydro might be restored, but we were one of 1,150 houses in our area without power. He transferred perishables out of the fridge and into the mudroom. With the window open, it was colder there than it was in the fridge.

Our limited menu of cold food or barbecued soup did not sound appealing that night, so we tucked Baxter into his bed and headed out to find a restaurant where we could get a hot meal under electric light. It was easy to pick out the powerless people in the restaurant. They were the ones wearing the massive sweaters, yet still hugging themselves–both for warmth and for comfort. They were the ones with the hat hair–or the ones who wouldn’t take off their hats. They were the ones with the haggard faces. They were the ones that headed into the public bathroom after dinner to wash their haggard faces before they headed back to frigid pioneer-land.

Night Monday: Despite how hard it was to arrive back at that frigid pioneer land, Monday night was easier than Sunday night. We thumbed our noses at carbon monoxide poisoning and fired up the camping lantern for an hour, so I had enough light to read. Matt continued to mark by candlelight. I carefully made the bed, smoothing the sheets and layering the sleeping bags. Even though the temperature was 12 degrees, we slept well burrowed in our cocoon.

Morning Tuesday (Chrismas Eve): We were wearing our winter coats and could see our breath whether we were outside walking the dog or inside eating my cereal (with nearly frozen milk). We were down to 8 degrees inside. Matt continued marking, sure that the gods were just waiting for him to finish before they turned the power back on. However, as he wrote the last grade, the gods did not relent. We were still powerless 57 hours and counting.

Afternoon Tuesday: We were slated to go to Matt’s parents for Christmas Eve, so we decided to arrive early. We packed pyjamas and sleeping bags in case we decided once we got there that we couldn’t bear to abandon the luxury of heat and running water.

As we left the farm, we saw two hydro trucks at either end of our road. They were the first trucks we’d seen in our area, and we were so happy to see evidence that they were finally working on our lines. We followed one truck, which eventually pulled over. We rolled up beside him, and I leaned out the window and requested an update. The driver in the truck said that they were working on our block that afternoon and we should have power back in a few hours. We were ecstatic. We were going to have Christmas at home in our warm, lit, watered house.

Matt wanted to return to the farm to be there for the big moment, but I wanted to be warm that instant so we continued on to Matt’s parents’. Thanks to their generator there was warm running water so we could shower, and thanks to a woodstove we didn’t have to wear our coats and hats–Baxter included. We even watched a Christmas Carol—our annual Christmas Eve tradition—before we headed back to the farm.

Night Tuesday: Driving along the dark country roads with the headlights glinting off the ice coating the trees, we would catch occasional glimpses of lights through the trees. Some people seemed to have power. I tried not to jinx it, but may be we would too.

We turned into our driveway… and everything was dark. The light that we left “on” for our signal was not lit. We opened the door and flicked switches just to check. There was still no power. The temperature on the thermostat read 6.5 degrees. It was not a happy Christmas Eve.

Matt called the power company. There were now just 36 households in our area without power. And we were one of them. The ETA for return of the power? Boxing Day at 10pm. Nearly 48 hours away.

This moment was my lowest point. I was over it. This was not an adventure. I just wanted to be comfortable and home. But my home was completely uncomfortable. I was not going to stay in my frigid water-less house. We packed up some clothes, got back in the car and returned to Matt’s parents’ house.

The whole drive, Matt kept trying to say, “Well, at least we… ” I was not in the mood to look at the bright side of the situation. This was not how I had envisioned spending Christmas.

Clockwise from top left: Shattered ice caking our Japanese maple. The poor broken willow at the bottom of the driveway. Our Rose of Sharon, which is usually as tall as the dining room window. One of our new little trees bowed under the weight of the ice.

Morning Wednesday (Christmas): My father-in-law cooked breakfast on an electric frying pan plugged in to the one outlet powered by the generator. My mother-in-law and I walked up and down the road, looking at the ice coated trees, downed power lines and fallen branches. I sat next to the woodstove and read magazines. When I refused to leave the warm house, Matt headed back to the farm to check on the situation.

There was still no power, so he drained the pipes as best he could and poured antifreeze into the toilets. The temperature was now 4 degrees inside.

Afternoon Wednesday: Christmas dinner was to be at my parents’ house, so we headed out early to take advantage of their powered house. My parents had lost electricity as well, but only for about 24 hours. My Mom was able to cook dinner for 19 people, and we were able to enjoy a hearty meal.

Night Wednesday: Hope springs eternal, so after dawdling over the dishes for awhile at my parents’ we headed back to the farm. We turned into the driveway, and the outside light was on. As devastated as I was on Christmas Eve, I was equally elated on Christmas night. I nearly cried at the prospect of moving back into my house.

We walked in, and the thermostat already read 16 degrees. After the temperatures that we’d been living with, 16 degrees felt positively balmy. According to our blinking clocks, the hydro had come on at roughly 2:15pm–close to exactly 3 1/2 days after it had gone out. While Matt headed back to his parents’ to grab our things, I stripped the bed and threw all of the comforters and blankets into the washing machine.

Yes, the thing I wanted to do most after moving back into my house and being without power for half a week was laundry. The washing machine didn’t stop running for nearly two days, as I laundered bedding, towels, clothes, jackets, hats, mitts, sleeping bags and everything else we used during the outage.

As miserable as I was for my powerless Christmas, there were people much worse off. During the outage, I thought a lot about the farmers around us who had to take care of their animals without power or water. In Toronto (where I guess they probably had running water), some people were without power for the whole week.

I think for many it didn’t feel like Christmas. I know it didn’t for us. But now it’s a new year, and we’re all safe and sound and warm and watered. We’ll have a mini-Christmas celebration in a few months when we get a generator… ’cause you know there’s no way I’m going through this again.

Were you one of the powerless this Christmas? Were your holidays particularly memorable this year? Have you ever gone through a long power outage?

Merry Christmas

Posted on December 23, 2013 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Thank you all for reading, commenting and following along on all of our adventures over the past year. I’ll be taking a little break for the holidays but will be back in the new year with lots of new projects, renos and stories. Wishing you all a wonderful holiday and a very Merry Christmas.

Merry Christmas

Posted on December 20, 2013 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Given that it’s the week before Christmas, I’ve decided to keep it light and have turned the blog over to Baxter. In the meantime, I’m still working on the house behind the scenes and will have lots more DIY for you in the new year.

Well, it’s been really nice hanging out with y’all this week. Julia says this is my last post for the year, though, and that I have to wish y’all Merry Christmas.

I’m a little sad to be saying goodbye, but here goes. Merry Christmas everybody.

(Note from Julia: I take no credit for this Christmas scene. This is not our tree, not our stockings, not our fireplace, not our house. Obviously, it is our (solemn) dog. Thanks to my brother- and sister-in-law Greg and Kristine for hosting all of us for a relaxing pre-Christmas get-away. And for taking a cute photo of our favourite guy.)

Getting along like cats and dogs

Posted on December 19, 2013 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Given that it’s the week before Christmas, I’ve decided to keep it light and turned the blog over to Baxter. In the meantime, I’m still working on the house behind the scenes and will have lots more DIY for you in the new year.

These photos are old. I don’t know how long in dog months, but y’all saw on Monday that there’s nothing green outside these days. I wanted to show y’all how hard I’m working to be friendly with the kitty-cats.

First, Easter ignores me, even when I give her my most puppy-dog-eyes through the window.

Then she comes closer. I stand very still–except for my tail which I keep wagging.

Finally, our eyes meet, and she sits down. She sticks her tongue out at me, which is okay ’cause I’m pretty sure she’s just being licky and not actually being rude.

She stays for a few minutes, but then she hops down and runs away. When we’re both outside together, she never lets me get this close. I have to admit to y’all that sometimes I’ve been a bit impatient and chased her. I just want her to be my friend.

I think Easter has maybe found a new friend. We haven’t seen her around the farm much in the last little while. We’ve all looked for her–I did my very best sniffing. Julia was saying all kinds of not nice things about coyotes and cars, but then Easter came back one day for a little while. Now Julia and Matt think she’s found an attractive he-cat with a warmer barn somewhere in the neighbourhood. I hope she hasn’t found a dog she likes better than me.

Ralph is still around, and she’s not running away from me as fast now. I think she’s a little lonely without Easter. She still won’t let me get close, but I’m hoping that for Christmas we can be friends. Wouldn’t that be the bestest present ever?

I shall sing you the song of my people

Posted on December 18, 2013 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

It’s a week before Christmas, and I’ve turned the blog over to Baxter. In the meantime, I’m still working on the house behind the scenes and will have lots more DIY for you in the new year.

As a southern gentleman, I pride myself on being quiet and calm. However, every afternoon, I am overcome by my inner party animal. I blame the Boxer side of my personality.

Matt walks in the door, and I just have to pick up my kong and play it like a trumpet.

It shows Matt how happy I am that he’s home and how wonderful he is and how much I love him. But it’s not at all dignified.

As I come back into myself, sometimes I end up in a no-dog’s-land where I’m not sure who I am or what I’m doing. It’s a very confusing place. I end up sitting there with the kong and no idea how to get rid of it.

Seriously y’all, it’s hard to be a distinguished gentleman when I’m sitting there with a rubber cone hanging out of my mouth.

Any advice for helping me to control my excitement? Or any suggestions of tunes I should learn to play? What song do you think Matt would really appreciate?

Just call him Gilligan

Posted on December 17, 2013 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

Given that it’s the week before Christmas, I’ve decided to take it easy and have turned the blog over to Baxter. In the meantime, I’m working on the house behind the scenes and will have lots more DIY for you in the new year.

Matt and Julia make fun of me a lot for how much I love my bed. I don’t see why. They have “the most comfortable couch in the world.” I have the most comfortable bed in the world. But they won’t even call it a bed. All the time, they call it my “boat.”

I guess technically, with the ring around the outside it kinda looks like a dingy. Boat, bed — who cares? What’s most important is the boat is very cozy, and I can do all kinds of snuggles.

I can lounge on the deck with my sleeping bag.

If I feel like there’s bad weather coming, I can hunker down in the hull–of course with a paw out in case I need to paddle.

Sometimes I like to pretend it’s wavy and roll around (although it’s always embarrassing when they catch me kicking off my covers).

Since the boat docked at the farm, I haven’t even sat in Matt’s chair. Now, I just sail around the house, floating and dozing.

It’s a captain’s life for me.

Snow dog

Posted on December 16, 2013 by Julia at Home on 129 Acres

With just a week to go ’til Christmas, I’ve decided to keep it light and turned the blog over to Baxter. In the meantime, I’m still working on the house behind the scenes and will have lots more DIY for you in the new year.

Being that I’m a Kentucky boy, Matt and Julia aren’t sure how much experience I’ve had with snow. Well, I’m keeping that bit of information to myself. But I will tell y’all that snow has come to the farm.

Julia said how some of y’all had been asking for snowy pictures, so I told her to put on her boots, put on my leash (on me not on her), pick up the camera and get out there!

Julia and you other humans just can’t appreciate how sniffy snow is.

When I’m not sniffing underneath, I’m sniffing over top. It may look here like I have a chilly foot, but this is just my point pose. I’m a natural.

It has been pretty cold here, and I’ve had to tripod it a few times. It’s hard to be a (figurative) cool dude when you’re hobbling around on three legs, but I don’t let it slow me down much.

Full speed ahead through the thick woods means that more than my feet get snowy.