A window says so many things — conveys so many messages. Because our house is so old, we can only imagine all the events that have been watched from those windows. Halley’s Comet, three times. Union soldiers, marching off to war. Redcoats, marching in for war. Lenne Lenape indians. Wildcats, boars, countless cattle and maids in white dresses. Porsches, Model A’s and wagons. Travois.

What kind of windows do you put in a house that has seen so much, yet keep in the heat and keep out that howling winter wind that whips down the valley? I chose Silverline, very pretty white vinyl windows with dimensional grilles and gas-filled panes. They look just like lovely colonial windows, only are absolutely air tight, and tip in for cleaning. Windows made by Anderson, that do all the exceptional things wooden Anderson windows do, only without needing paint.

I deliberated over this for quite a while. I’m in my early 50′s, still strong and limber enough to climb ladders and wield paint brushes, and wash buckets. How will I paint those windows in 10 years? In 20? And that is the reason I heeded the vinyl siren’s call. After feeling bad about another “unauthentic” choice for the house remodel, I thought a little about the Second Amendment.

The first Americans expressed their right to keep and bear arms by owning flintlocks and Kentucky long rifles, because that was the technology of the day. What guy from 1780, if teleported to today, wouldn’t say, “Oh, hell yeah!!!” if given the opportunity to take a nice Remington .270 rifle, or an AR-15 back in time upon his return? So I drank the vinyl window Kool-Aid.

And the ones installed so far… look great. Absolutely great.

I have been busy packing up the excess stuff at our house in order to make it more desireable to prospective buyers. I found this small poem tucked inside a sewing magazine down in the studio. I wrote it in 2002 and it has no title:

My heart flies on its journey
through the dark and distant night
past the towering timbers
gladed forests
musky, damp
the ground’s steady breath
reaching skyward,
to that dimly reddening dawning
of some distant horizon
where you are.

Billy, Contractor Mat and I had placed a whopping one dollar bet at the beginning of this – who could guess the number of dumpsters we would use? I said six, Mat chose seven, and Billy picked eight. I never thought we would have that much debris – and Number 7 was 1.5 tons overweight (and an extra $152, thankyouverymuch).

I have a feeling we may see a NUMBER NINE in our future. We still have the big hayloft to do, and the dairy room isn’t cleaned out yet.

Number nine…. number nine…. number nine….

A big box arrived at home today and what was inside? You guessed it! Two dozen freshly-printed copies of Honey Crafting, written by Leeann Coleman and Jayne Barnes (the other beekeeper who contributed to the book). It is just an insane, indescribably giddy feeling that bubbles up the spine every time I see my name printed there on the cover in large, serif type. Just insane. Wonderfully insane.

The book is available in a few places, which surprisingly everyone pretty much has heard of: Amazon.com, Barnes and Noble, and Sam’s Club. And of course, from me! I’ll post it up on my Etsy site later this evening after I return from dinner with my best friend, Donna. If you want it autographed, send me a note with your order.

http://www.leesbeesnj.etsy.com

Just insane!

“Americans are held hostage by the tyranny of political correctness.”

-Robert Griffin III
Quarterback, Redskins

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Mat has torn apart the old porch and rebuilt it to resemble more of what a porch from 1730 would have looked like, the exception being that this time around, it was constructed with pressure-treated lumber. I think it is quite authentic. We love it. It will certainly be our favorite place to hang out, barring that bone-numbing icy wind that blows down the valley in the dead of winter. We will paint the floor battleship gray and the rails and posts will be white.

You’ll have to use your imagination a bit, and visualize the wide (very wide) set of stairs descending gracefully down to the rose-filled front garden with its curving brick walkway. We’ll get there, but first some sort of retaining wall will need to be built to keep the new stairs from following the old ones down the slope.

The old roof was completely ripped off, as well as the plywood underneath. The bathroom was vented into the attic previously (and there was no ridge vent), causing the sides of the sheeting exposed to the attic to be covered in black mold. The roof leaked badly, so the sides of the sheeting facing the outside were soaking wet and rotting. All in all, not a pretty picture! Now the roof is dry and tight, and looking awesome. We chose GAF Timberline shingles in a charcoal gray/black color combination.

It’s really nice for Bill and I to be able to sit and enjoy something new, and not have to be thinking about how we will have to rip it out and throw it in the dumpster.

(PS – Happy anniversary, Mom and Dad. Sissy and I miss you a lot.)

The package of bees is ready to be gently emptied (read: “dumped”) into its new home – a freshly painted beehive box.

While it is yet my turn
I will love this land deeply.