Journal: October 31. Sunday walk. Swan story.

Karen Altman drove out from Boonton with her friend Elaine who was interested in painting the house (as in making a picture of, not painting the walls).

The day began bright and sunny.  I even a hung a wash on the line, but by the time they arrived, the sun was ducking behind thick clouds and it was cooler and windier than I might have preferred.

But that is the Californian in me talking.  Karen and Elaine didn't seem at all concerned.  It was not yet true winter cold and while I may have forgotten the difference, they have not.

As Elaine drew the house (on what it turned out was its final day without insulation covering the brown clapboard, Karen and I took a long walk, even venturing down paths I'd never tread before.

The lake was covered with birds and I presented her with the latest swan gossip:

Anyone who has been closely following the sad swan saga will recall that months ago, long after three of the four baby swans had expired, one of the parent swans was killed.  The likely suspect was a snapping turtle.  We didn't know if it was the mother or father, but the surviving parent with its only child seemed content enough circling the lake, often stopping at the far end in the company of one or two great blue herons.  It was not clear what would happen. 

My father, when we were children, and other swans summered on the lake every year, rarely let a week ago without declaiming that swans were monogamous for life.  How did these devoted swans deal with bereavement?  A mystery.

A few weeks ago, despite their often combative swan natures, they seemed to welcome the scores of Canada geese and ducks who spent their days looking for corn in the recently cut fields and arrived at our lake with great honking each night.

Last week the visitors were joined by another pair of swans.  For a few days there were three adult swans and the one growing cygnet.   It was impossible for an outside human observer to know what was going on.  Were the visiting swans a happy empty-nesting couple?  Were they two swan guys out cruising for a new lifetime mate? Two female swans on an analogous mission?  None of these questions have been answered, but within a few days, there were two adult swans sticking close to each other, while the cygnet, almost full grown, but still plumed in gray was sometimes nearby, but often by itself, as if giving the grown-ups a bit of privacy (hard to maintain with all those geese and ducks).

Was a new swan couple established?  Did the empty-nesters toss out the single parent?  How is the child coping?  From my shore-side perspective it seems to be working out, but who can pierce these mysteries?

My guests  reflected on this a bit, but for the most part they were delighted that they enjoyed perfect weather for both walking and painting.  A fine time was had by all.

Journal: October 28th. Second thoughts on siding.

Johnny and George back at work.  I had expected praise aplenty for my excellent siding removal and clean-up efforts, but not a word was said, though great progress is being made on getting rid of all siding on northern walls. 

As I was now once again obsessing, I spent too much time  reading about how dreadful vinyl siding is for the environment.  This, of course, confirms my own feelings.  Who but a Lego master would want a plastic house?  George has explained to me many times that it would cost about three times as much to use wood, would be much more complicated and expensive to insulate, etc. etc., but I keep hoping we will figure out an alternative

I am so taken with the revealed bottom layer of clapboard, now a very aged, slightly rotting dark brown, I wondered if I could find such a color and this search for dark brown vinyl plunged me into a world of articles listing the seven or sixteen or four hundred and thirty-three reasons you shouldn't use vinyl siding.  Should I forget the whole thing?

Hoping for enlightenment, I drive to Northwest Siding for samples of dark brown siding, keeping my eyes open along the way for houses in darker tones.  I don't see any houses darker than yellow or light blue.  My internet researches have revealed that until quite recently vinyl faded rapidly, so light colors were the only ones available.  Now, they have figured out how to retard this fading, and are marketing darker colors, but they have not really spread to Sussex County.  Most houses I saw were in various hues of beige and yellow. 

I got the samples.  Realized that the brown, aiming as it does to look like natural wood was just too fake.  It's bad enough that I want to find siding that looks like painted wood--but somehow the fakery gets doubled if its siding that is meant to look like wood au natural --if that makes any sense.

So--the decision is made again.  Glacier Blue Siding (which looks like a dark gray) will be tacked over the aged brown wood.

Journal: October 27. Aquastat.

A warm and drizzly day.  John, the boiler man, arrived with his brother Brian to install a new aquastat on the old boiler.

This aquastat will instruct the boiler that it is no longer necessary (due to installation of water heater in May) to keep turning on to create hot water.  Its sole job is to heat the water in the heating system. 

After installing the aquastat, he pointed out the rusting switches for the ancient motor system that controls the four heating zones and convinced me that I should re-do that system so that all four zones are on one motor (they will still be separate zones).  The new system will be much more energy efficient and will, perhaps even more importantly, greatly reduce the possibility of sudden collapse of deteriorated parts. 

Brian, John's younger brother, worked for many years as a landscaper and I signed him up to prune the two surviving apple trees in what was once a small orchard of apple and peach trees.

As the leaves fall off the trees, the lake feels much closer.  With its noisy and ever-fluctuating bird population, it's host to many grand bird take-offs and landings throughout the day.  Instead of showing the aquastat (a metal box), here's the view from the window.  You can see the water ruffling from the geese. 

Journal: October 26th. Massive Siding Removal

I have been shamefully derelict in these postings--but will try to make amends.

I've been keeping notes (of sorts) and will try to fill in past days (oh I am addicted--in theory at any rate--to staying true to the chronological record though no-one cares but me).

Johnny finished painting the columns yesterday and began removing the siding in the front of the house, but didn't come in today due to a dental emergency.  George had work elsewhere, but when he called in, I asked him if it would be alright if I tackled the siding removal.  I'm always a bit concerned that my helping with construction efforts might lead to irreparable damage, but he assured me I would do no harm. I'd been planning to continue with my vacuuming of the baseboard heating fins and removal layers of soot, but the day was balmy, so I abandoned all indoor cleaning efforts for some serious outdoor work.

Equipped with two hammers and a tall step ladder, I began the chore.  I'd read somewhere that a good worker removes the nails from discarded wood, and although close inspection of the debris Johnny had piled up yesterday revealed he didn't do that particular chore.  He, unlike me, doesn't have to prove he's a good worker.  Alas, I have so much to prove.  In any case, I began pulling off as shingles, removing all nails, those that came out with the wood, as well as those that stayed behind, as I went along.

Not particularly pleasant work.  The vinyl siding above the cedar shakes had been put up so poorly, and the cedar shakes have been on so long they have provided housing for bats and insects and who knows what else for decades--lots of bat guano, foul smells, rotting wood.

But, it did have its pleasures and satisfactions.  Along the way, I found a label on one of the shakes--including the excellent message:

"It is not intended that Creo-dipt shingles give a uniform appearance.  Uniformity is monotonous. A little irregularity is artistic." There you have it.

As I've learned from watching the work around me, everything takes a long time, and as I am assuredly slower than most, it took the better part of the day for me to finish.  The nail removal adds time and I did have to pile all the debris away from the house. It was after six, almost dark, and beginning to sprinkle a bit when I finished, but the house looked great.  The dark brown wood makes me think I might be happy with brown siding instead dark grayish blue I had chosen.  I will have to drive around a bit and see if I spot a brown I like.

It's possible I just like what's in front of my eyes at any given moment.   Right now the brown looks more natural--but brown siding might look like fake doubled.  We shall see.

Journal: October 21st. Floorboards, sanded and not.

We decided that all our efforts at sanding the screened in porch were fairly worthless.   One more do-it-yourself effort hits the dust.  The explanation is that layers of  paint have been sinking into that floor for centuries.  Too much for our poor scraping abilities to handle.  Instead, I hired Walter, who came with both his father and son.  Armed with appropriate machines, the restored the boards to their original milled state.


I am tempted to just polyurethane it, but it will in fact be painted like the rest of the porch.  It does look quite splendid.

Of course, this sanding inspired me with hope for the restoration of the wide black flooring in the hallway and the two parlors (which will eventually become kitchen, dining/sitting rooms).  Unfortunately Walter thinks those old planks will not take well to a serious sanding.  They might just have to be buffed and re-painted, but that project is far in the future.  

Journal: October 17. Sam visits and scrapes.

The cold is continuing.  Sam has arrived for the day.  I picked him up in Sparta at 11am. 

We had big plans for garden preparation and assorted tasks, and he did do some reconnaissance work in the garden. 

But it was more a day of rest.  We did spend a few hours scraping, but I am slowly beginning to think that is a fool's project.  At the rate we remove the many layers of old paint, it would take months to get the floor ready to paint.

Instead, we walked around the lake.  The leaves are providing a fine fall display.  

And, of course, we did have two fine meals--a breakfast of eggs poached in tomato sauce, topped with feta and a dinner of chicken with couscous and a north african vegetable stew--also acorn squash with a cilantro-lime-garlic vinaigrette.

Journal: October 16. Heat on the way.

Oh--summer is indeed over.  Cold and blustery weather continues.   The dirth of heat is now painfully apparent.   Today, Karl, the plumber returned to finish installing the oil tank.     Lots of jack-hammer work--as he has to drill through many inches of concrete ceiling.  He tells me that he thinks this might have been built as a bomb shelter--but since my parents owned the house during most of World War II, I tell him that is highly unlikely.    

Once I get oil delivered,  I will have heat and will also be almost an environmental criminal--with a GIGANTIC carbon footprint--but I am told it's very difficult to retrofit an old house like this.  I could (and probably will)supplement the oil with a wood stove, but at this point, it is impossible for me to bypass the oil.    Nonetheless, concerned that I might never have any real heat, I finally  unpacked the electric heater I bought last week.  I have it  plugged in next to me like a little puppy dog. Uh--oh I was thnking it was getting warmer in here, but just noticed that i had the thermostat turned to zero--so there is no heat at all. Viva the placebo effect.

Journal: October 15th. George working on columns. Brief appearance of oil tank.

Karl the plumber came today to install oil tank.  The old tank, removed from beneath the decaying porch, was never installed properly.  The plan is to put the new tank (holds 330 gallons) in the pump room next to the kitchen.  This means a hole has to be drilled through the concrete roof, and who knows what else.  Karl's son is with him.  They tell me there will be lots of noise, but in fact, they soon disappear.  I assume there was some sort of emergency.

When George arrives in the afternoon, they are gone.  The tank is not installed and we assume they were called away for some plumbing emergency.

I am a bit out of it due to assorted painkillers but continue my scraping, while George continues working on the porch columns.

Here's a close-up of the column detail. 

Journal: October 14. Naomi's tooth pulled, John recovering from pulled back, George working on porch.

Scraping.  scraping.  scraping.  Instructions from the dentist to take it easy--and not do strenuous exercise.  Is scraping strenuous? 

I don't think so.  It is perhaps mindless, but perhaps I am so dreadful because I am not thinking about it enough.

That's probably not the case.  George, who does know about such things, says that paint that has been sitting as long as these many coats is almost impossible to remove.

Karen A. has suggested using a heat machine (like a hair dryer, but hotter).  George seems to think nothing can make this job any easier.  He laughed at my most recent purchase of a soy based paint remover.

             Triptych of porch floor in very ragged state

In fact, the stripper, while not breath-taking, did make it a bit easier. Some paint did leave the floor.  Eventually results will be posted--but for now--floor scraping with not that much to show.

Journal: October 10th. Giant Buddha. From Peekskill to Eastchester. Trader Joe's.

Woke up in Peekskill apartment of Gilda and Joan.  Spectacular autumn views of Hudson and beyond.  No major plans for the day so was delighted when Gilda suggested we go to see the Giant Buddha at the Chuang Yen Monastery in Kent, New York.
Here's the website:  http://www.baus.org/en/?cat=18

This Buddha is the largest indoor Buddha in the western hemisphere--or perhaps it is the largest indoor Buddha in the world. In any case, it is enormous and imposing, surrounded by 10,000 little tiny Buddhas.

We had a fine time wandering about the Temple and the grounds.  There is a lovely little lake-Seven Jewel Lake, with a boardwalk and many pagodas as well as a cafeteria, which at lunch appropriate hours serves inexpensive buffet meals, an even bigger bargain if you provide your own plate and utensils.  As we arrived without plates or appetites, we didn't partake, but were happy that option was available. 

In the gift shop, stuffed with earrings and trinkets of many lands and persuasions--Buddhist, Chinese, Indian, etc.,  Gilda bought me a good luck charm, guaranteed to help with all renovation efforts and family happiness. 

We passed up visiting Cold Spring, which is supposed to be a lovely town, and after dropping Gilda off, I drove on to visit Brian, Heather, Grace and Gabriel in Eastchester.  My goodness, that navigator on my phone worked hard leading me through many Parkways--the Merritt, the Sprain, the Taconic and the Hutchinson--without a hitch.
Had an excellent visit which included a trip to Trader Joe's, the collective cooking a North African chicken dish and an unexpected sleepover, as it felt too late for me to head back to New Jersey.  I think a fine time was had by all.

Journal: October 8th. Paper sorting, erands and more scraping

Friday.   Another day of many chores.  John is working on wall, George and Johnny deliberating over various porch questions.

I spent hours scraping.  Results scarcely visible.

I did finally sort through piles of random papers, letters and photographs.  Sort is perhaps the wrong word.  I looked through them, marveled and oohed and aahed and then stuffed them into two plastic boxes which are now neatly stowed on closet shelves. I am calling this progress.  
                                                                       Headed out on a round of errands.  Ideal Farms for veggies, post office, and then back to scraping.  

Journal: October 7. Second wall on its way. The return of Trooper Joe.

The day started gray and drizzly.  The skies soon cleared enough for me to hang my clothes out to dry, but the temperature never rose as high as promised.  I haven't yet unpacked the heater, but much talk and pondering about heat.  Carl, the plumber, will come some time next week to install the new oil tank.  I've placed a call to John Wallis, whom I hope will inspect the boiler before that occurs.

My thoughts are turning again to wood stoves.  John Meyer, the wall builder (he is making great progress on the second of the three retaining walls on the side of the house), told me that he has put in a wood burning stove which he's quite pleased with.  It works well and has reduced his oil consumption.

Late in the afternoon, Joe, the state trooper and friend of Scott, stopped by to ask if it was alright if he walked around a bit to stake out a good spot for the opening of duck hunting season on Saturday.  As we chatted, noting the pile of wood on the front lawn, he asked if I needed a wood stuff.   He highly recommended his own stove vendor, who supplies both used and new stoves, so perhaps that too will happen in the coming days.

Journal: October 6th. Rain ceases. Front yard cleaned.

It wasn't quite as cold today, but I am going to go ahead and get some kind of space heater.  

This morning, John, the grader, arrived before eight.  The ground was too muddy for wall building, so instead he was going to make a dump run.  Taking advantage of the sun, I'd showered (the house wasn't exactly cozy, but it was easy to imagine it warmer, so a shower wasn't quite so intimidating as it had been yesterday.  After my coffe, I joined John in his truck loading activity. These jobs all take so long.  Labor really is laborious.  No way to load the truck but to pick up all those bits of wood and insulation,carry them to the truck and toss them in. Over and over and over again.

 

It took a while, but we loaded up everything.  I'd thought George might have wanted some of the cleaner wood, and sure enough, as he drove up, he instantly lamented that the wood he'd hoped to use for kindling was now deep in the truck. I'd even thrown in some of the black plastic sheeting that I'd been steadily removing from the garden.  Off to the dump with all of it.  Praise be.

Oh, so very much to do.  It's true that in all my house planning, I really never got much beyond bat removal--all this grading, cleaning, and wall building was never on my agenda--and yet, that is the work of the summer.
With the front yard clean, time to once again think about space heaters.  I thought I'd do some very serious shopping and stop all stores in the neighborhood. I left the house with a huge plastic bag of sheets to donate in one of the many donation boxes that appear in most of the stores parking lots.  That accomplished, I went to Lowe's.  I thought this would be the first of many spots, but they were selling  an oil-filled radiator for $40.00.  George had said these were good, the sales person was more than enthusiastic--warning me to stay away from all higher priced models, so buy it, I did.

Now I have a space heater.  It is however a bit warmer tonight and as  I'm not that eager to develop a heater habit,  it is still sitting snugly in its box.   It might not be ready to show off its heating capabilities, but it is ready for its close-up.

Journal: October 5. Cold and Gray and Rainy.

The rains continue.   The house is chilly, but I have finally closed all windows.  I do seem to have a high tolerance for a nippy interior, but have begun to look on-line for ratings of electric space heaters.  It looks like most people have never met a space heater they like.  Both George and John said they do some good, but it's been such a gray, cold and foreboding day, I couldn't bear to head out (a little loony, since the house is so chilly, stores would be warmer and brighter, but couldn't make the leap and  home I stayed.   I'm between oil tanks  (the old one was in an untenable position under the porch, and Carl, the plumber, has not showed up with his estimate for a new one)  and haven't figured out what to do about wood stoves, so for the moment I am dwelling in an illusory zone of hoping that warm weather will return and it won't get really cold here until I'm en route to California.  

The geese are mirroring my confusion.  For years now they have not left for the south, but have lingered on golf courses and suburban lawns into the winter.  Many are loitering on our lake--they head off, but keep returning with a great honking and whirring of wings.

Journal: October 4th. Rain. Rain. Mud and Rain.

A dark and rainy day.  As most excellent parking place on Thompson and Spring was good only until 11, it made no sense to linger in the city.
I had some large screen movie cravings (induced both by the proximity of so many new york city theaters and the sadness of the closing of newton theater) and decided that if traffic co-operated, I could make a 10:30 am showing of The Social Network at the Rockaway Mall.  So many worlds so near, and yet so far.  I'd never been to the movies there--my new jersey movie memories are rooted in the great movie palaces of journal square--the Loew's and  the Stanley and then there is that tiny Newton theater--but needless to say, the AMC 16 at Rockaway Mall could easily be in the San Fernando Valley.

So many bonuses--all showings before noon are $6.00, for which you get seated in an enormous stadium style theater with four other people.  The movie crackled from start to finish, and after a stop for a "Hollywood Burger" at the Jefferson Diner just down the road, I returned home to a cold and damp house on Hampton Lane.

John, the landscaper, was just leaving as I arrived.  He'd begun the second wall, but the rains were heavier, and he was calling it quits.  It was clear that he was going to need another pallet of stone, so before settling in, I stopped at the stone yard and placed my order for pallet #3 of rattled weathered blue stone.