More pictures: Some of the less bucolic aspects of country living

After some recent (albeit brief) exchanges with Brent, it strikes me that I have perhaps made my home sound a little too idyllic. So here is a little reality check. Once again, you can click on any thumbnail to see the larger picture.

I have a really cute truck (One of my former neighbors, to be fair, once said, “Excuse me, but that’s NOT a truck. Almost a truck, perhaps”). When I lived in town, I washed it about once a week. But here is what Buster looked like after a trip to town:

Buster 

I’ve been debating about washing him for weeks, but what’s the point? The roads are just the same.

We have five woodstoves on the property between our house and shops and Ralph’s ditto. So part of living here is cutting, splitting, and moving and stacking (several times for each piece–once into a sunny area to dry, once into the woodshed, and once to the house or porch) humongous quantities of firewood. Luckily we have almost an endless supply. Here’s what it looks like:

Woodshed

You can’t even really see most of it. The main part of the woodshed, which holds at least 7-8 cords, is behind all of the tractor bays you see here. And that’s not counting Ralph’s woodshed (also full) or the quantities stacked in the living room, kitchen, and back porch for immediate use.

Here’s what the main house looks like:

Home, sweet home

The top floor on the left is the library. The part you see here contains about 4,000 books. I have another 1,000 or so in my office, a picture for another day. The guy on one of our four assorted Kubotas is Ben, delivering firewood from the shed to the house.

But there are still the plusses. Snowdrops, daffodils, and scylla are springing up all over. It was 45 F today, and I worked outside most of the afternoon. Ralph and Brenda came down tonight for a terrific spaghetti (I can say that because Brenda cooked it), home baked French bread, a nice salad, and two nice bottles of wine. It was a gorgeous day with a long, slow finish to it.

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