What's Next? Part 19: Gazebo Moving Attempt: Take One

All righty then, here I am, back with what's been going on around here since April.  Well, scratch that, since November 2016 or thereabouts when our old septic tank was replaced with a brand-spanking new system.  

Reviewing what happened a few short months ago:

The new tanks arrived in early November

Digging commenced shortly thereafter.

 Lots of digging.

Oodles of digging to put the new lines in place.

The digging went from behind the house all the way across the yard to the mound over two hundred feet.  Bye bye lawn, hello mud.

After a remarkably short time, the tanks were in place, the lines were buried and except for a missing lawn, things looked fairly normal again all in one day.  

By that afternoon in November, we were already kicking the dirt around, trying to figure out how we were going to camouflage the new septic tank covers, whether or not we were going to reinstall the old River Bed and what about the gazebo?  

The support posts buried in the ground for the last thirty-something years were rotting, should we rebuild it?  Should we move it? Could we move it?  I had an idea of where I'd like the gazebo's new home to be, in the area where the Tardig stood.  

 Back in late March, Carl obliged me by helping me move the Tardig out of the area and placed some fence posts where the gazebo would fit.   Happily, Carl was on board with my idea to move the gazebo, so now 'all' he had to do was figure out how to carry out the mission.  

I polled our sons on the idea by text message; Joel thought it was a semi-doable plan; Dave's terse reply was, "Tear it down."  At this time in late March, Mom was living here with us and her vote was to try to move it.  Ok, the majority won.  


I checked with our wonderful neighbors who own a large lifting machine about the possibility of them simply driving in the backyard and lifting the gazebo off the ground.  Warren came over and took a look and thought it shouldn't be a problem.   He would need to drive in our east driveway and go all the way around the garden, coming in on the lane to the northeast side of the Quarry.  Then he'd have to retrace his route with the gazebo dangling from a chain back to the road and into our driveway in front of the house. 

We'd been having a lot of rain at the time, but since Warren is a busy farmer, we didn't want to bother him when it was time to be in the fields for spring planting.  The timing had to be just right; dry enough to move the gazebo, but not so dry that we were taking him away from farm work. We told Warren we'd give him a few days notice and set to work on getting ready for the move.  

Carl is loathe to ask people for help and equally leery of borrowing equipment.  I don't blame him; usually when we borrow something from someone Murphy's Law graces us with a breakdown that possibly had nothing to do with us, but happened when we were in possession of the item.  Then you feel bad and end up replacing/fixing/buying what you borrowed anyway.   I reassured him with the thought that the worst thing that might happen would be if the gazebo fell apart when we tried to move it. (I'm great at reassuring people, am I not?)

Sadly, in the midst of moving preparations, Mom passed away.  After her funeral, I was rethinking the entire idea; maybe we should just tear the gazebo down, or maybe we should simply wait for it to fall down and just leave well enough alone.  But then Carl took me for a walk one afternoon at a park in Green Bay and we came across an area set aside for weddings, complete with a gazebo.
   

Pamperin Park Gazebo, Green Bay, WI

 The park's gazebo looked so nice down on the ground instead of up on stilts as we had built ours.  Right then and there we decided it would be worth the effort to move our old gazebo.   The plan was back on.

 Carl worked on laying out the footings for the move just as the daffodils were coming up.  I was scurrying around digging up lilies as they emerged and replanting them.

 Every time I went in the back yard, I'd look at the gazebo and try to imagine it moved (and not a pile of parts on the ground if we failed.)

 Construction on the new site continued, slowly but surely.

 Carl began removing the attached deck and the railings he'd so carefully constructed decades ago.

 This was a bittersweet part of the move; I hope we can find somewhere else to use the railings.....

 Carl had to do the math to figure out where the posts would end up after the move and bury the footings in the right places with the stainless steel post brackets in place.

 His next step was to remove the attached deck.

We used the old deck in the greenhouse for a plant shelf, so at least we had a use for it.  The park bench Grandpa Don built for us was carefully taken off the deck, too.

Finally after a few weeks, on April 24th to be exact, we were ready for the move.  I called Warren to set up a time.  He called back and said he'd be over in a half hour with his machine, also known as a telescoping handler.  I put a frenzied call out to David who came straight from work to help with the move.

Carl, David and I were scrambling around making last minute adjustments; the last thing Carl needed to do was saw off the old posts after the machine was attached to the gazebo's roof.  He couldn't saw them off until they were ready to lift the entire structure.

While Warren was driving around on our east driveway with his machine, I noticed I hadn't taken the solar lights off the railings, so as I was hurriedly unhooking them, I had my back to the incoming machine.  When I finally did look up to see how close Warren was to the gazebo, I was shocked; oh no, something awful happened!  Carl was up on a ladder, looking at me in consternation, "See what happens when we borrow other people's equipment?"

Did a wheel break off the machine?

No, thank goodness, all the wheels were still intact, but he was definitely stuck.  

When the 30,000 pound machine drove over the septic tank lines buried in the back yard last fall, it sank to the counterweight on the back.  So close, and yet so far from our mission.  Thankfully, Carl had not yet cut the posts off the gazebo. 

We had bigger problems now; how do we get the machine unstuck?  David went up to Mom's and retrieved the 574 to try to pull the machine out, but I knew my tractor wasn't going to be powerful enough.  Warren went home to get one of his big tractors instead.

 
  
 
 

  
 

After another hour, we had the telescoping handler unstuck.  Luckily, nothing was broken, thank goodness.  Warren said we'd have to try again in a few weeks when the ground dried up some more.   He bid us a good night after he took the handler and his tractor back home. 

Hmmmm.  Now what?  

Up next:  Take Two

The Eyes Have It

I was at the optometrist's office this morning and was told I needed a follow-up appointment in six weeks. 

"That puts us into the first week in August," the receptionist said.

Wow.  The first week of August is only six weeks away?  How did that happen?  

I've been absent from the blog for over six weeks, too.  How did that happen?  Well, I have a bunch of reasons, but I think I'll start with today's adventures first since they are still fresh in my mind.

I started out the day at the aforementioned optometrist's office for an appointment for the following condition, shamelessly cut and pasted from an internet search:
 A posterior vitreous detachment (PVD) is a condition of the eye in which the vitreous membrane separates from the retina. It refers to the separation of the posterior hyaloid membrane from the retina anywhere posterior to the vitreous base (a 3-4 mm wide attachment to the ora serrata).

Yep, that's what I have going on right there, a separation of my posterior hyaloid membrane from the retina.  What does that mean? I'm not sure, but I can tell you when the retinal/vitreous separation proceedings were in full swing last week Thursday night, they certainly got my full attention.  

I was working on writing a blog post when suddenly, out of nowhere, a huge black blob appeared in front of my eyes, shaped, oddly enough, like an upside down horse.  I immediately remembered how my mother was waving her hands in the air in front of her eyes a few months ago, trying to 'get rid of the dark blobs hanging down'. 

"Do you see that?" she had asked me, alarmed.  "What is that?  What is happening?"

And I have to admit, I know now why she was so panic-stricken at the time.  Poor Mom, she had to endure all of this just a few weeks before she died.  She was so brave.

When it happened to me, I tried not to panic but as in the immortal words of Yoda of Star Wars fame:  "Do or do not, there is no try."  Ok, I did panic a little bit...and immediately hit up Google for a search of 'dark black floaters'.  Luckily, I could still see as long as I kept blinking rapidly; Mom had not been so fortunate.  

Dire warnings of a looming full-blown retinal detachment were included in my searches along with some hopeful stories of patients who had gone in soon enough and had a laser procedure to basically weld the tear shut.  But those patients who waited too long were subjected to air bubbles put in the eye and having to lie face down in bed for days waiting for the tear to heal.  At least, that's what I think I read; my eyes weren't focusing all that great.  I was doing my best to not panic.

I called for an appointment last Friday, but there were no openings until Monday (today) and since overnight the dark black upside down horse in my right eye was turning to dark brown (which the receptionist and I thought was a good sign) the decision was made to wait until Monday for the appointment.    However, if my condition were to worsen or be accompanied by flashes of light, I was to call back immediately.

The flashes of light thing is not new either; a few years ago I was working in the garden during deer hunting season and noticed flashing lights out of the corner of my eye.  I was wearing blaze orange so the hunters wouldn't mistake me for a deer.  In my denial of any eye problems, I passed off the weird flashing sensation as my eyes catching sight of the bright blaze orange jacket I was wearing.  When I came in the house that night, I realized the flashes were happening in a dark room, too.   My next move was to my regular eye doctor for a checkup.

"What causes flashes and floaters?" I asked.

"Birthdays are your biggest culprit," he said, wryly.

Oh, hurrah.  

"That and being extremely near-sighted," he added.

Hurrah, again.  

I have had floaters for as long as I can remember.  I distinctly recall helping my mother take laundry off the washline when I was a little girl and asking her if she saw the 'circles in the sky' and how they all floated around.  

Mom didn't know what I was talking about, so I filed my concern away as just one more weird thing wrong with me and did my best to ignore the sky circles which were then soon joined by squiggles and drifting fog.   However, when the upside down horse appeared, it was impossible to ignore.  The horse was soon joined by thick, black lines and mid-size black spots, coming and going, cavorting across my field of vision. 

"Your eyes will be dilated for the examination," the receptionist said.  "You may want to have someone drive you if you've never had a dilation before."

The appointment was scheduled for 10:30 AM, the only time I could get on such short notice.  Hmmm, Carl and our sons have day jobs, but there is one person who came to my rescue again; Ann.

What a blessing to have Ann's help.  She whisked me away to the appointment, sat with me during the exam while I described the problem to the doctor and helped me remember all that was said.  

The optometrist said I'd had a bleed in the right eye, but it didn't look too serious, especially in light of the fact the horse's color was starting to fade which was a good sign.  However, it could develop into a retinal detachment, so she referred me to a retina specialist later on this coming week.  If things go south, I'm to call them back immediately, day or night.  

Since Carl and I have been together over forty years, our problems seem to go hand in hand, too; in a truly bizarre turn of events, Carl started seeing flashers and a large floater a few days before my 'horse' showed up.  He hasn't had an eye exam in the 39 years we've been married, so when I was finished with my appointment, I asked for one for Carl, too.  As fate would have it, there was an opening at 3:30PM today and I took it.

Ann took me out to eat at a nice restaurant overlooking an abandoned quarry with peacocks strutting back and forth outside the window.  When Carl called at noon, I told him the plan was for Ann to drop me off at his work and then Carl and I would go back to the optometrist for his exam.

Thankfully, Carl's floaters and flashers weren't as theatrical as mine; no upside down horses in his eyes, and no referral to a retina specialist, but he, too, has a follow-up with the optometrist in six weeks for a recheck.  Back to the first week in August again.....where I started this whole saga.  

We didn't get any work done in the garden today, but in a way it was ok.  We're in a strange stormy season right now, and since we've had rain showers every few hours for the last week (ever since eight or nine tornadoes touched down a scant ten miles from here)  so everything would be dripping wet anyway.  We took the opportunity to pick up Carl's new work shoes and buy some groceries instead.

Has anything been accomplished around the yard since Mother's Day, you may ask?  Good question!  I'll get back on the 'What's Next?' series very soon.  

Hopefully before August.

Mother's Day Antics

I'm breaking into my regularly scheduled posting (which was supposed to be about moving the gazebo) to report on Mother's Day happenings.  

When Joel was a little boy, he brought home a rock from the woods across the road for me as a gift for Mother's Day.  He was so sweet in his little red boots and baseball cap, towing the rusty old red wagon behind him.  It took every bit of strength he had to haul the wagon as the rock was quite large for a boy of four.  I really do not know how he managed to load the stone by himself.  I so wish I had a photo of him with the stone back then, but looking back, the moment is somehow dimmed when a camera is involved if you know what I mean.  I keep the memory safe in my heart.

Thus began a lifelong tradition of rocks for Mother Day. Every year I look forward to seeing his newest acquisition.  And with no further ado, here is the 2017 Mother's Day Rock of the Year:

Carl, directing traffic with his hot pink tennis racket.  (No, we haven't taken up a new pastime, the racket is a handheld bug zapper.)

 We had a home all picked out for the new rock, just move the pine needles over and..........

Unload the rock from the truck......

And there it is, safe and sound in the garden; one more memory to cherish.  

 (And I still don't know how he loaded that rock by himself.)

 Joel's Mother Day festivities? Activities? Weren't over yet; at my request, he donned chainsaw attire and we sallied forth to take down three ailing Colorado Blue Spruce trees.

 It was a very melancholy job for all three of us; Joel helped plant these trees as tiny seedlings over thirty years ago.  Sadly, blue spruce has not done well here; they were gorgeous up until they were about twenty-five years old and then began to decline.  
The problem could be they were planted too close, it could be fungus-related, but in any event, it is once again time for a change.

As renowned plantsman Adrian Bloom said in his book, 'Gardening with Conifers', once a plant has outlived its usefulness, take the opportunity to introduce something new.  By the end of the weekend, we ended up cutting down six trees and now we have a vast, open space.  I have some ideas on what to do next, but Carl's not playing along.  (More coming up on what we do next!)

After we destroyed the trees, we were back to working on the Pachyberm remodeling which was begun last fall before the septic tank replacement antics.  Yes, I know, we should to stick to one job and see it through.   

Dave stopped home for Mother's Day on Sunday and was recruited to drive tractor for stone moving. 

  Carl's sister Mary and her husband, Tom, also stopped in on Sunday and were helping us carry branches and move stones and on Saturday, Ann was weeding and hauling branches, too. 

 I think my sons are happy Mother's Day only comes once a year, visiting us is risky business.  

My love to David, Joel and Abby and Audrey for a wonderful Mother's Day!  I am truly blessed.

Next up: What happened to the gazebo?

What's Next? Part 18: Gazebo

Here it is, May 9 already and I'm far behind on posting about what's been happening here.  I find it hard to believe Mom has been gone for over a month already.  Going up to check on her house has been difficult for me lately; seeing her painting station empty when I walk into the kitchen hits me hard every time.  So many memories.  On Sunday I went up to fetch the tractor from her machine shed and when I rode by her kitchen window on the 574, I automatically waved.  Of course, Mom was not there to return my greeting; old habits die hard. 

However, Mom would not want me to wallow in grief, I know this.  So we must move forward the best we know how.  The thank you cards have been written, I finally finished up with them last week.  I have had several meetings with lawyers and bank personnel, and I've been knee deep in estate settling issues.  Sometimes I feel like the kids in the Charlie Brown cartoons when the adults are talking, it all starts to sound like, "Blah, blah, blah...." so from now on, Carl will be coming along with me so we can absorb what is being said.  This will all take some time to deal with.
 

Serviceberry

 Being spring, there isn't much time to think about anything right now, the garden is taking over and making me run in circles like always.   Our first garden walk is mere weeks away and we have to get a move on!  The spring flowers are lasting much longer than usual this year since we've had cold weather.

Trilliums

'Golden Shadows' dogwood

Dutchman's Breetches

Rewinding our past history here at the garden, we have to fix the backyard somehow.  Remember the septic installation?  I sure do, it's a sore point every time I look out the window.

The backyard.  Look at the lonely tulip.

 Now that we have a blank slate in the backyard, we decided to do some major remodeling as long as everything is torn up.  The gazebo was the first order of business. 

But first, another trip down Memory Lane:  When I was a kid, my favorite place to sit on the farm was on top of the feed room roof between the two forty-foot tall silos.  I was up about ten feet off the ground and the breeze between the silos kept the mosquitoes at bay.  At night after chores, it was heavenly sitting up there, watching the cows go out to pasture and seeing the stars come out.

I never did take a picture of the concrete slab between the two silos, but here is a picture of the barn before it was destroyed by a tornado in 1981.   If the ladder wasn't available, I would often climb over the milk house roof (the little white building) to get to my perch.  Those were the days...I missed having my aerial getaway.

We built the gazebo in 1982 when we were 24 years old.  We didn't know much about building anything; ok, scratch that; I didn't know much about building anything---Carl had the knowledge I sorely lacked.  We both loved the idea of a gazebo being a sheltered area to view the garden.  There I am, below, hoisting a can of Orange Crush.    (Or is it Mountain Dew?  I never was a beer drinker.)  The cornfield behind me is now the Quarry Garden.

However, most gazebos are at ground level or only slightly raised.  Carl wanted to recreate my silo perch for me and also thought it would be interesting to have our gazebo up in the air so we could have a view of the gardens.  As if building the gazebo itself wasn't hard enough, Carl added a small observation deck (the part I'm sitting on in the photo) and a hinged top roof so we could take photos from the peak.
 

Who wouldn't want to enjoy the view of this garden?! 

At the time, our 'garden' consisted of a circle of white marble stone chips around the septic tank vent, but hey, we were young.  (The shingles are shading the spruce tree seedlings.)  This area now is the Quarry pond, but you have to give me an 'E' for Effort, ok?  The four circles held tea roses (not one remains in my garden today) and you have to love the tulips surrounding the pipe sticking out of the ground.  Very classy.

Yes, we had a lot of work to do.  Looking back, we never knew what we were in for.

The picture above was taken eight years later in 1990.  Carl, age 32 and Joel, age 4 are tilling the trees which are now behind the Quarry.  The pile of rocks in the background is the Formal Garden now.

But anyway, moving forward; the gazebo gradually blended into its surroundings.  

 This was taken in 2005, by then we had a little more gardening know-how.

Still, we were never very happy with the gazebo on 'stilts'.  We'd added the small deck and a staircase in 1988 but rarely used the structure.  I would go up there in the summer when it rained to take in the glorious sight and smells of a good, soaking rainfall, but truth be told, the gazebo never was the old concrete silo perch of my youth.  

As time went on, the gazebo was growing older and a bit wobbly.   We were having doubts about the pressure-treated posts buried four feet in the ground as they were starting to rot.  We had a wedding party come for pictures a few years ago and when it rained, the entire group crammed themselves into the gazebo.  Carl and I stood in the rain observing the young people jostling around and I muttered under my breath, "Oh, no.  We're gonna get sued."  Luckily, the gazebo held up.  But the seeds of its impending demise were already planted.  We had to do something about the gazebo.

Fast forward to November 2016 and the septic tank replacment:

 Yes, it is now time for a change.  

Carl and I stood around last fall and kicked the clods of dirt around.  

"I wonder how the backyard would look if we moved the gazebo?" I said.

"Move the gazebo?  I don't know how that would work," Carl said.

"The posts are rotting and the thing is kind of dangerous.  Besides, when's the last time you sat up there?    If the gazebo was removed, we could put the big circus tent up for the booyah parties in its place.  And in the meantime, in keeping with your wish to downsize the garden 50% (I knew I'd get his attention then) we could simply plant lawn where the gazebo was."

I think I had him at downsize.  

More to come......