Impressive Phil

Have I ever mentioned how very much NOT morning people we are? And Mondays are generally the worst. We work until late on Saturday, spend Sunday convalescing and doing nothing but basic animal maintenance, and then get up on Monday without clear direction for the week. Sometimes it's the afternoon before we have cared for the animals and figured out what we are supposed to be doing with the day and week.

Phil was up early this morning, though, trying to figure out the electrical codes and wiring. Did you know that outlets are required at a particular spacing? It's not just a convenience thing! And since framing is coming soon, and electrical and plumbing are both necessary before the framing portion of a building is done, Phil was getting a jump on that. After a few hours, he was feeling more confident. (And, because he's Phil, he has done both some plumbing and some electrical work in general home maintenance. But wiring an entire, complex building is new for him. The most he's done in the past was a kitchen.)

We had figured that Phil would finish the two sides of the roof, then move the eight pallets of block away from the building site to give more easy access. Maybe he would start digging out the excess dirt around the foundation so we could add our drainage tile (ugly black plastic tubing, not something lovely like pottery tiles).

The day didn't turn out quite like we expected.

First, I was a bit grumpy because I wanted interior work to progress, not exterior. Sure, the bituthene breaks down in the sunlight, but, really, how long would that take? And we have no idea how long it would take a drywaller to be ready to work. Why not do what we can indoors, and if we have to wait for a dry-waller, then do the work outdoors? That seemed practical to me!

Phil had a different perspective. Besides the very real consideration of our bituthene waterproofing breaking down (and, as a forensic structural engineer, he dealt a LOT with water damage; any destruction of our waterproofing is not a good thing)—besides that, who knows if a dry-waller could even access the interior? We are content to walk over our two boards over a moat. But what safety restrictions might a dry-waller have?

And then, as we kept talking, we realized that the building needs to be sealed off more before much interior work commences. We received a quote for windows and doors this morning, and that is now critical path. We didn't know it was critical path, not having built anything quite like this before. So it's good we're moving forward on that, but the rest of the interior needs to wait.

My task of the day was to call about gravel to cover the drainage tile.

Remember how I said we aren't morning people? I probably shouldn't have called before 10:30, as the conversation went awry. First, I was supposed to find out the price difference between 1/2" and 3/4" gravel, but the way I asked it, the man thought I wanted a mixture of the two sizes. Sure! Great!

Then he asked when I would like the gravel. "Oh, as soon as possible," I said, figuring sometime tomorrow.

Unbelievably, he said, "Okay! We'll load it up right now and be there within the hour."

And rather than asking Phil if that was reasonable (I'm also not the best at off the cuff conversations—there's a reason I blog and can figure out what I want to say at leisure), I said, "Okay!" And the clock started ticking.

Phil took the news well. Amy: move the van. Phil: move the truck. Amy: deal with the electrical cords crossing the driveway. Phil: get the tractor and start moving block. Amy: move the boards around the block.

All went pretty well for the first six pallets. I had finished my cleanup. It wasn't until later in the day that I saw what had happened to the last two pallets. Oops.

The delivery showed up about five minutes later, and I got to live with the knowledge that not only had I ordered the wrong product delivered at the wrong time, I had parked the van in the wrong spot, too! It was not a good morning.

And the driver and Phil did not communicate fully, so although the truck left a pile of gravel where we wanted it, the pile was smaller than it should have been, ideally. Our driveway looks spiffy and new, though, with the "extra" gravel!

Most of the gravel Phil will need to scrape and use.

That delivery done, Phil got right to work on the platon, or dimple-board, a second water-proofing surface that has another function I'm forgetting. He had to shoot the fasteners into the concrete, and the project itself was a bit of a nightmare, with the 8' tall, flexible material flopping all over, and having to stand in mud. Ugh.

Then Phil graded the moat for the drainage tile. He put down a layer of gravel, making sure that it dropped an inch every 4'. (The foundation is level: note how the tile drops in comparison to the foundation.)

In clearing the moat, he found some long boards that I hadn't even seen in my cleanup on Saturday. Then he rinsed the drainage tile and put it in place, covering it with ecofabric to keep the clay silt from clogging the slits in the tile.

Ideally, the plastic will be wrapped in ecofabric, which is "wrapped" in gravel. Water flows down, enters the tile, and runs downslope and away from the site.

Once the tile was all in place, he started shoveling a layer of gravel on the top, trying to make sure that many inches cover every bit.

With the platon in place, and the drainage tile done, we are ready to backfill, at least a few feet worth.

I had expected this whole excavation/platon/gravel task to take at least a week. To have it almost one in a day amazes me.

So, you could say, the day ended better than it began. It didn't feel great to have the gravel come so quickly at the time, but Phil certainly put it to good use!

The Never-Ending Roof

A major thunderstorm was predicted on Saturday. Although the deluge never came, the weather played cat and mouse all day: starting to rain just enough that Phil would get all materials off the roof to protect them, then quitting shortly thereafter. The sky looked like rain, too.

Despite the on-again-off-again weather, Phil continued to work on the roof. The joints needed an additional sealant, which needed to be applied at least four hours after the joint was finished (hence, why we didn't finish on Friday). This sealant had a funny tip: rather than a point, it was fan-shaped, to help spread the seal.

Then Phil spent most of the rest of the day on his stomach, head and arms hanging over the edge of the roof, putting in the metal batten to keep the roof down. Every 5 or 6" he drilled in a screw. And when all the screws were in, he had to go back over all and cover with a different sealant.

Even that was not enough to finish the roof: the batten then took the same double sided tape, rolled across and along. Since the rubber roof is the final waterproofing barrier, I guess that makes sense, but the number of seals seems a bit over the top.

When the gentle rain began for the night, Phil had two sides fully taped, and two to go.

I have felt like things have been moving well. So I was surprised to see that Phil had started the roof on July 1, and is still working on it at the end of the month. That has been a complex project!

Four Year Retrospective

A year ago, I wrote about our progress, and, rereading that post now, I sounded glum. I said to the boys today, "What have we accomplished this year?" And sweet Abraham said, "Are you kidding? Look at how much Dad has built!"

So in the last year, Phil finished the blue barn, which is now filled to the bursting, and which we use every day. What a blessing to have that done.

And the structure started last September is not done, but definitely progressing well.

We have a freezer of beef, fresh milk every day, and a new baby coming. Despite my reaching what felt like rock bottom last fall, I think I've more or less recovered my equilibrium emotionally. (At least now, if I feel like nothing much is happening, I can blame it on pregnancy hormones.)

I don't know that our farm plan long term has stayed the same from one quarter to the next, but we have options going forward, and those are all sort of ancillary to the big push to finish our structure.

I'm happy to be studying homeopathy in my spare time. I'm happy to be teaching the boys, and for them to be growing into good young men.

This is not a bad place to be.

Newly Minted Roofing Experts

We are so grateful for the pause in rain. We woke to a pleasant morning, and Phil headed out to install the last two pieces of plywood. I started the beef kidney soaking in lemon juice and the beef heart marinating in oil and vinegar for tomorrow's dinner, then went to join Phil. I started the lengthy process of sweeping the plywood clean. Because of the texture of the plywood, and because there have been muddy shoes, various accidents involving stepping in not quite cured sealant (Joe told me a long story about how he accidentally made a footprint in a specific spot), insects curious and deceased, sawdust aplenty, and several days of detritus from various tubes and containers, the push broom was effective but slow.

About the time I was done with the first 10' section, Phil was ready to start the rubber membrane.

Before putting the rubber down, we rolled out rosin paper, which looked like 3' wide paper bag material. This slipsheet allows the rubber membrane to expand and contract with heat and cold, without wearing on the rough plywood. It was amazing how just the right amount of (almost unnoticeable) wind would overturn the carefully placed paper in the few minutes before rolling out the heavy rubber.

The structure itself is about 1000 sqft, and with the overhang, the roof surface is just under 1300 sqft. Providentially, our 27x48' roof was ideally suited for three rolls of 500 sqft rubber membrane: three 50'x10' sections. They are ridiculously heavy, so happily the delivery guys loaded them right on the roof with their little boom truck. I managed to roll them over while sweeping, but just a bit of rolling made me need to stand and pant. Phil rolled them, and even adjusted them a few inches by lifting, but that was minimal.

We rolled out the first 500 sqft, enjoying the satisfaction of just rolling the tube off the end of the roof—with only about two feet extra, it would have been silly not to. Then we had to adjust the rubber all the way down, because ideally both ends would have a foot of overhang, not two feet extra on one end and no extra on the other. We picked it up foot by foot, sort of like eliminating a wrinkle in a bedsheet by microadjusting all down the bed. The sun had been overcast when we began, and we knelt on the rubber as we worked our way down the roof. But midway, the sun came out, so by the edge of the roof, we could hardly pick up the hot rubber, wishing for cotton gloves or anything to cut the burn.

We took a break then, and enjoyed the cool interior. Even at midday, the sun came to just the base of the footer on the south wall, but didn't come in at all. Perfect!

The next two sections of rubber went down much more easily. We figured out how to make sure the beginning was properly positioned, avoiding the microadjusting later. We overlapped the two joints by the prescribed 5", which gave Phil exactly the right amount of overhand on the cantilever to cover the soffit. Not an extra inch, but exactly the right amount.

We went in to cool off then. I read to the boys and fell asleep.

I wouldn't have expected sweeping and rolling to be so strenuous that I required a 90 minute nap, but that was what it took.

When I went back, Phil had made good progress on the first joint. First, he rolled back the upper edge, then used a little sponge applicator to put industrial rubber cement on both overlapping edges, bottom of the top edge and top of the bottom edge. Then he put down serious double-sided tape on the bottom edge, and, without removing the backing, used an adorable roller to roll both across and along the tape, to make sure it adhered firmly. Next, he flipped the top edge onto the double-sided tape, without removing the backing. Then while I pulled the backing, Phil pushed the two edges together, preventing air bubbles as much as possible. Then roll the edge with the roller, across and along. Done!

After the second joint, we cleared off everything not longer necessary. Then Phil threw up the rest of the onsite insulation. Eventually we'll have a double layer, but this is intial protection to protect the surface from punctures.

The last step that Phil worked on was putting on metal batten strips along the vertical edge, screwing the rubber membrane into place.

He started off trying to do so from a ladder (screw driving is easier when standing), but the perimeter is too uneven, so he ended up lying flat on the roof while screwing in the batten strips. He finished a bit more than a third by nightfall, when he was feeling woozy from the fumes, probably dehydration, and the up and down.

But this was a good day!

And on this fourth anniversary of our arrival on the farm, perhaps the most obvious sign of progress is the 28 week, 3 day belly. I'm pretty sure I've delivered with a 42" waist at some point in the past, so it is a bit humorous to respond, when asked when the baby is coming, "Oh, sometime in October!"

And Abraham and Joe ask almost daily if my tummy will get even bigger, and when they hear that I have hardly begun to grow (as the baby is about a quarter of its delivery size now), they stand about five feet in front of me and ask if my belly will get that big. Hopefully not, dear sons. Hopefully not.

Great Stuff

Phil bought gutters this morning. He spent the bulk of the day detailing around the cantilevered overhang: he put in block supports, put sealant top and bottom, and then shot Great Stuff around all the cracks. "Make sure the mice don't get in!" I said.

That is an ancillary benefit; really, Great Stuff is supposed to be highly insulating.

When he bought it, I was hearing it as "Grate Stuff," and that seemed really odd. We have no grates to work with currently. When I asked for clarification, Phil the Engineer came out. "They didn't have this on the market yet when I graduated from college. This is the best stuff!" I think the benefits are ease of application, strength, fewer materials needed ... "I have no problem with them using that name. It's true!"

We later laughed, though, at any knock-off products. Would those be "Pretty Good Stuff" or "Mediocre Stuff"? What would it be like to say, "Hi, Honey, I developed Mediocre Stuff at work today!"

Aesthetically, as it shoots out around the insulation, it's not pretty to look at, but it will be covered up eventually.

Phil is within two plywood sheets of completing the roof. He put the edge sheet into place, Jadon screwed it down, and then Phil took his repaired saw and cut off the excess, letting it drop down.

The three younger boys and I had a busy day. We headed out this morning to run errands. First stop: camera repair shop. Gloriously, my camera was not broken. I suspected, then, that the charger simply wasn't operating properly (even though the blinking-then-solid light appeared to be working). I left some camera batteries at the store and left.

We picked up Clover, now separated into pieces. I was a bit disappointed to learn that he had weighed under 600 pounds. If a bull is born at about 50 pounds, and gains the hoped for pound a day, a two-year-old bull, as he was, should have been about 200 pounds more at least. Phil thought the steaks looked lean: not much fat on them. His "rail weight," the weight of his two sides as they hung in the cooler, was 338 pounds. Out of that, we have 122 pounds of ground beef (no stew meat—we had them grind it all, as I make ground beef meals often), and some other cuts. Happily, all of him fit into one chest freezer, except for a few packages of his liver, and the stock bones, which are cooking now.

Sounds like we'll need to work on finishing our cattle, but for now, I am thankful to have our first home-grown beef. It was four years (tomorrow) in coming.

After a Costco run, and a stop again at the camera shop, where I did just need a new charger, apparently, we picked up a package at the post office and headed home. It was about six hours from when we left, so we made good time, but I had had nothing but water and tortilla chips during that trek. I had lifted 40 lb. bags of dog food, kept the children in line, and driven further than I've gone yet this year.

Once the meat was stowed, I was absolutely wiped out. I don't usually just lie down without moving, but I did that for a time.

Then all six of us headed up to the roof. Phil and Jadon worked, and I just sat there and watched. I just sat. And played with my beloved camera.

Joe had never been up on the roof. The 15' climb intimidated him, but with Phil spotting him, he headed up, then down, then up again. Good for him!

And, with the superior lens, I could actually take a photo of the interior, which grows fairly dark as the sun goes down.

Camera back. Gutters bought. Roof so close to being done. Beef in the freezer. Boys giggling over Garfield books in the box at the post office. It was a good day.

Of Saws and Springs

The truck with our rubber roof membrane arrived before 10am, and easily used its crane to life the three sections of roof onto the plywood. Phil had opted for three 10' sections, rather than a single 30' section or two 15' sections. If he had a team of reliable people, the 30' section would have been very quick, requiring no joints. But because he works just by himself, he needs any labor saving option he can figure out, and that is a good one.

Then he headed to town to either buy a new saw or a new spring. All the saws were too heavy, but he found a spring. Happily, he spent forty cents instead of almost $200, so I thought that was a good exchange.

Back home, he was working on the saw when the spring sproinged away. In that horrifying instant, as it shot into the great unknown, Phil thought, "It was forty cents! I could have bought two! I could have bought ten!"

Incredibly, he found the spring. A part of the plywood floor was moved aside, so I don't think the search was easy or swift, but it was effective. He finished fixing the saw, and cut the ends off the 24 or so joists just perfectly.

Then he had to place the rimboard. Gravity was working against him. He had 12' sections of engineered wood sitting up on the cantilevered joists, and he somehow had to suspend the wood in the air on the ends of the joists and screw the wood into the joists. He had to do it from above (since the ladder would not have been a safe option on the uneven ground), while he balanced on the joists themselves. He needed to prevent the wood from falling, and prevent himself from being pulled down by the weight of the wood.

This was quite a puzzle. None of us hung out beneath his work space.

In the end, he screwed temporary pieces of 2x4s into the bottom of some of the joists, giving a little lip to rest the wood on. He put a board over the joists so he had a place to sit carefully. And then he worked quickly. No mishaps!

That finished, he set down some plywood cut to length (he didn't have quite enough pieces up on the roof to finish). Those roughly in place, he was done for the day. Because, as you can probably guess, the rains began then.

Windows and Doors

I did some cleanup around the work site. I used the wheelbarrow to bring wood scraps and unusable cardboard to our "pond" (currently a hole for burning and source of a nasty vine). I realized I am sick of having stacks of usable cardboard, that I am saving for a bottom layer for a garden, lying around hither and yon, so I started a stack on a pallet. I think that qualifies as nesting.

Phil cut the remaining plywood for flooring, but since there is still standing water in the crawlspace, we are waiting to put it down permanently.

Salesmen with windows and doors was going to come around 1:30 this afternoon. I was sitting by the window in the trailer. At 3pm, Phil came in. "I'm sorry they are so late!" I said. Phil gave me a strange look.

The weeds outside the window are higher than I realized, since the salesmen had come and gone without my notice! They took measurements, took note of Phil's preferences, and will get back to us. They also left a 20 page catalog solely on interior doors. The catalog for exterior doors is 108 pages! And did you know that some windows today have blinds built in, somehow fitting inside the glass panes? Phil is pretty sure he's designed the space well enough that blinds in the windows are unnecessary, but that was an innovation I'd not heard of.

One of the things on the list of projects is to make a trench for drainage. In order to get the backhoe out, Phil needs to clear things out of the garage. I reviewed a lot of books this spring, and had a pallet of rejects. We had loaded them this spring and the library was closed due to Jefferson's birthday, so they have been just sitting in the barn. Today, after checking to ensure the library was open, Phil brought the pallet in, and did a load of laundry so he could have some clean shorts to wear while working.

Back home, he attempted to cut the cantilevered joists along the south wall, so he could put up rimboard and finish the decking. Sadly, his cordless saw conked out last week, after the two levels of protection he had from rain both failed. He tried cutting the joists with the skillsaw, but that is a heavy tool to use in midair, and he wasn't pleased with how non-vertical the cuts were. As the sun went down, he thinks he managed to get the cordless saw working again, only losing two springs in the process. One of those was important.

My Mom once built a corporate building. Her general contractor told her there were 10,000 decisions to be made for a building. As long as Phil was doing block, the decisions weren't a big deal. But now the decisions are becoming a big deal. For example, Phil put down wood on the floor next to a column. That wood symbolizes a wall. Do we want the wall flush with the column on one side, with about 3" of exposed wood on the other side? And if so, which wall gets the wood and which gets the drywall? Or do we split the difference, so each room has an inch of exposed wood?

This reminds me a bit of the caterer for our wedding. She asked such questions as, "Would you like white plasticware or clear?" I could not imagine caring.

In this case, I don't have a preference, but I bet, once finished, such questions as the inch placement of a wall will become important. Ugh.

To decompress, I think I'll look through that 108 page exterior door catalog.

Yes, I Am Awesome

On Saturday, Phil got up and groaned. "I think I will be sore for the rest of my life, no matter what I do." After moving cows, he stayed inside until midafternoon. Within fifteen minutes of heading out, a downpour came, and that was the end of work for the week. It was a bit of a bummer.

I was up milking this morning. It was overcast. There was a breeze. The high was supposed to be in the mid-80s (and only supposed to feel like 102!). So I decided to head out with Phil and do the roof's sealant. We commandeered Jadon to do the screws, leaving Phil to cut plywood to length and put it in place. Did you know that a skillsaw is so awesome that you can set the depth of the blade? Phil could put a piece of plywood into place, then trim the plywood without cutting the joist it rests on. That is awesome!

Imagine: with three workers, the work goes faster! After about two hours, we were almost done with the decking over the interior, leaving just the 3' cantilever for another day. Then the sun came out.

I knew it was hot last week. No, really, I did. I knew Phil said he would get faint. But until I was up on that roof and physically felt the absolute assault of the baking sun on head and back, I think there was a tiny part of me that felt like he could have just pushed through.

Even with the sun and clouds alternating for a bit, in less than a half hour I was faint. And red. And dripping. And, yes, I am third trimester, but really, my job consisted of pulling the trigger on the caulk gun while sitting down and scootching around on my backside. I wasn't lifting plywood panels, swinging a sledgehammer, or even standing up! Phil sent Jadon in, and then, a few minutes later, me, too, while he stayed out to finish screwing down the last few panels.

So we managed about 2.5 hours of work, but got the upper decking mostly done! And I took a long, cold shower, and then sat around in a towel for a while because the idea of putting clothes back on sounded very hot.

In the afternoon, we sat inside and talked about the tasks left to be done, from quick and easy (clean off the roof) to long and involved (determine electrical circuits for each room, which includes figuring out lighting). Less than two pages to go! Of course, with a line item like "framing," it might take a while.

When it cooled down, we spent about three more hours, putting insulation in among the blocking on the south wall. This small portion of the wall will not have alternative insulation, and so I cut three sheets of blueboard into 96 pieces. It was tedious, as our blades only cut about 1/3 of the way through, so each square needed cuts on both sides, and each cut required a shallow score cut, then a deeper cut. It sprinkled a bit, but no real rain! And we finished by 8:15.

I am sunburned, and I might not have a whole lot more I can do, based on the list we made, but today felt very productive.

***

In other news....

* My camera no longer works. I have used that Nikon almost daily for the last four years, but it just quit taking a battery. I love that camera, so hopefully a repair won't be too expensive.

* Phil was sitting on the couch in the RV, talking to me while I made dinner. A mouse suddenly ran over the back of the couch, over his head, and ducked under the couch. No kidding. He set a trap immediately, then took his food to eat elsewhere (which may have been about air conditioning as much as mouse, but I'm sure the mouse didn't endear the space to him).

* I don't know if I have mentioned this, but Phil is a consummate game-player. Years ago, before we were even dating, we were at a party where one of the fun things to do was play Nertz, which is sort of like solitaire played with multiple people (build up your own solitaire pile using cards that everyone contributes to the pot). We probably played about 30 rounds, and Phil won 29. I only like to play if I can win, generally, so I don't play games with him.

Jadon is a game-lover. He has always been a good sport, and plays simply because he loves to play. Over the summer, he has a routine. He sets an alarm clock to work through part of a chess tutorial (he even puts in earbuds to listen to Adventures in Odyssey while working). Then he reads a single chapter in about eight different books. He even managed to read Agatha Christie on a schedule. I couldn't believe it. I devoured those books, a book a day. Who can wait for the ending?!

Anyway, the tutorial seems to be working. Jadon beat Phil at chess three or four times over the weekend. Phil was amazed: Jadon's game shifted from a mostly defensive game to an offensive game. He got checkmate using two bishops! (Which means nothing to me, but if you play chess, maybe it means something to you.)

We Inch Forward

Phil managed to re-corral Charlemagne with the bulk of the herd this morning, so we no longer have a bull at large around the farm. We're also pretty sure Belle isn't bred, but we'll deal with that later. The two bottle-fed calves are loose, and they were very intent to see what I was doing when I milked. Happily, they didn't butt me, but I think Elle was considering it. When I finished, they followed me down the driveway, like I was Little Bo Peep and they were wagging their tails behind me. It was adorable.

The week of unbelievable heat continues. I finally got smart and cooked hamburgers for breakfast, so the temperature in the RV was not over 100 then. After dark, I cooked a few more for dinner, and we sat in the dark and dripped. Phil was out working at about 4pm, and within a half hour, his shorts were soaked through. He had sealed some seams and pounded one stubborn panel into place, so he hadn't had to do much heavy lifting or anything else. It is just shockingly hot.

I think this photo shows the progress as of Tuesday night. You can see one row of blocking done, and some panels down.

When Phil went in to dry off and cool down this afternoon, the roof looked like this.

Half the panels are in place, all the blocking is done. By nightfall, he had several more panels in place and most of the materials needed hoisted up onto the roof.

Besides the stubborn panel I mentioned before (so stubborn, he sent me a text to ask me to come. The panel was warped and I stood on one side while he pounded it in, then stood on the other side while he pounded it in. The first side popped out, and after going back and forth several times, we got one side solidly in and put in a holding screw. The other side wouldn't go, though, and so we left that seam a bit larger than preferred—after an hour or so of frustrating wrestling, he was done with it) ... besides that panel, he had another frustrating moment. He had put down three panels past halfway and was about to do the fourth when he realized that the seams were lining up. Rather than cutting the first panel to make sure the seams were offset, he had forgotten to do that.

So he unscrewed the three panels and redid them.

In the heat of the day, he's been working inside on various building-related things. Figuring out what to order (today he remembered that gutters are a good idea, for example), figuring out various details (if the house is too tight, we could die, so it's good to design tight and then figure out limited ways to allow air exchange), figuring out what the next few steps are and making sure we have the materials on hand. For example, he was getting low on screws. Did you know that a large box of screws is over $100? I didn't know that.

***

I have been unbelievably, disappointingly exhausted this week. I was low in iron last pregnancy, so I've started iron supplements again. Phil thinks it's the heat, and I'm sure that's part of it. Five years since my last pregnancy, I'm five years older, too. But I feel like I just want to sleep, and I wake up not feeling like I've slept well.

The boys play around me, step over me (and sometimes on me). They come up with creative activities. Today Jadon held up a graphic novel version of Romeo and Juliet and Isaiah made up funny captions, while Joe and Abraham listened and laughed.

I came in at one point and Joe said, "Look what I made. What do you think it is?" I couldn't guess what the glass jar with beanie baby inside could be.

It's an underwater submarine!

In Which We Are Very Hot

Phil was in town this morning, getting more screws and ordering the rubber roof. I headed out to milk Belle and found that she and Charlemagne were on the lam. It looked like they had simply unstrung a corner of the electric wire and let themselves out. I went looking later, though, and found five posts pulled out and a third of the line on the ground. I'm thinking a full-size cow and a bull are a bit too much for a 10' space between trees.

Belle and the bull weren't going to go far, I figured, with most of their cow companions just on the other side of a fence. I didn't find them, but sure enough, they must have just headed into the woods near the fencing, out of my sight, as we saw them throughout the day, butts toward us, looking longingly at their cow friends.

By late afternoon, it had been almost a day and a half since I milked last. I went to find Belle, but after fifteen minutes, I was dripping with sweat and had no sight of her. I went to tell Phil, working on blocking for yet another day, and he said, "Oh, she's just right out here." She had camped on the outside of the wall. It was far to hot to flee, so Phil easily got her lead on. I milked and put her back in her pen. We'll figure out Charlemagne later. At the very least, if Belle goes into heat, hopefully he'll show some interest and be easy to corral.

One of our friends, formerly of Houston, said, "This feels like Houston." If the air temperature is only 93, it feels like 110, and Phil can work only so long before he is dehydrated and faint. Happily, the evenings have been dry, so he has about four hours of focused time in the "cool" of the day (when it feels like maybe 99), along with whatever he gets done in the morning.

Today he finished the last set of blocking, the fourth. He can do all the roof decking except the last section! As dark fell tonight, Phil held the ladder and I climbed up to see his handiwork. It was surreal to stand on the future floor of a greenhouse, high up in the air. A different perspective, certainly.

Error Correction

Phil was up early to prep for the day. I had to leave by 8:50, and before I left I had made bread, then helped Phil separate Charlemagne the bull in with Belle, in hopes that she will breed during her next cycle. Phil had set up all the lines so perfectly that it took about two minutes and was extremely low stress. (We had been expecting a challenge and woke up the two older boys. They needed to do nothing.)

I milked and Phil kept moving cows. He had also pulled the tire off the tractor and stuck it in the van.

After my midwife appointment, I went to a new-to-me store that deals with all manner of tires. They had sourced the tube we needed for the tractor—living a half hour from the Shenandoah Valley, a major agricultural area, means that most sourcing is available next day. Not only did they very nicely get the tire out of the car for me, but the entire changing of spent tire for a new took about seven minutes before they loaded it again for me.

I remember an afternoon my freshman year of college where a friend and I wrestled all afternoon with trying to swap a spent tube on my bike. Hours of annoying, pointless labor later, we brought the bike to a shop. So to have a seven minute turnaround was like a miracle. When I mentioned that while paying, the cashier laughed, and the serviceman said, "I can do it again!"

We again had a downpour in the early afternoon. Phil used the time to research rubber roofs. "I've designed them regularly, but I've never actually seen one installed." So now he knows more specifics of the actual fasteners, and has watched a YouTube movie on how to install one. With the amount of water that leaks between the plywood, as soon as the plywood is down, we want the rubber up.

To try to prevent leaks, Phil did seal between the cracks. One of the tubes must have gotten wet in its not-as-protected-as-we-thought location. He was pressing it out and the cardboard tube cracked on him, sending sealant all over. Yuck.

He was climbing the ladder, and the ladder slipped down. I don't know how far he fell (not too far, I don't think), but his shin was bloodied.

Mostly what he did today, though, was error correction. Apparently, in running a tape measure over the top of the joists, he realized that the actual length is an inch short. But he hadn't realized that, and so he had measured joist locations from the east and then from the west, which threw off the measurements by that inch. I was of the "so what?" mentality, but apparently there would be ramifications down the road if that wasn't corrected, so that was what he did today, as well as further strengthening the blocking he installed yesterday (putting in little scraps of wood as stabilizers, I think). So he felt he had been productive, though, looking at the structure, nothing really changed. An inch over 48' isn't very obvious. Sealant between plywood is useful, but doesn't change the look overall.

***

And a report primarily for grandparents.

The boys have been impressing me lately. Joe brought Phil a jar of water yesterday, without any prompting from either of us. What a good guy! (When I complimented him, he said, "I just brought one. I didn't want to bring two.")

Abraham has been doing a Sports Camp with our church, and his leader caught up to me as we were leaving and he praised Abraham's sweet spirit and helpfulness. "He didn't want to get wet [many water balloon activities, I think], but he ran errands and picked up spent balloons. He is the sweetest boy. We love having him on our team."

Jadon and Isaiah are on a different track at Sports Camp. Today they played a form of dodge ball that sounded like utter chaos, and Jadon mentioned how he hid two balls behind his back and sidled up to the other team and knocked two people out. Abraham clapped his hands and said, "That is so clever! I wish I had thought of it!" It was clever!

And Isaiah mentioned that he said his Bible verse and was given a cherry taffy as a treat, "But I gave it back." Yes! Indoctrination of good eating has worked well so far! (And in defense of the sweet volunteers at Sports Camp, they had fruit snacks of some sort for the other children, but had specially provided raisins for the boys. I was touched by that thoughtfulness.)

Even the new baby got some accolades today from the midwife. She palpated and—good news!—the baby is head down (of course, with about 13 weeks until the due date, the baby could flip once or twice again, but I'm always happy with a head down position). But she also started laughing and said, "This is a fun baby! I just touch, and there's a little kick or squirm under my hands!"

Blocking

With the exception of a short, heavy rain around 2pm today, the last two days have been gloriously clear.

They've also been incredibly sunny and ridiculously humid. Days where the weather is 91 but it "feels like" 109 because the humidity is constant. Phil's face actually showed some sunburn yesterday. Considering he's been working outside every day it's not raining, it showed me just how little sun we've had lately.

Phil is working on an unexciting but necessary part of roofing called blocking. Basically, he cuts some joists into 2' sections and sticks them up between the joists for the roof. They have something to do with making sure the roof is more stable. He explained it to me apparently when I was suffering from pregnancy brain, so that's as precise as I'm getting, unfortunately. The photo of the north wall shows the very subtle difference between two sections that don't have blocking (you can see the words "TimberStrand") and two sections that do.

It is maybe easier to see on the south wall, except that all the sections have the blocking in place.

We have 24 two foot sections on each long wall. So Phil cuts the sections using a chop saw, a tool I'd not seen before but that makes life much easier. With a nice jig set up, he just plops the joist down, pushes it against the guide, and cuts quickly and cleanly.

So that was what Phil did yesterday. In working, he realized that some sections were not exactly 2' apart, so he had to microadjust bit by bit. But by the end of the day he had done all 48 sections on the north and south wall. And with those done, he could place more plywood. The boys and I went to town for a few hours, and when we came back, rather than 1.5 sheets down, he had 12 or so sheets down. Yes!

We had hoped that would make the space underneath fairly water tight. As the rain today showed, it didn't. Yes, it was more protected than open exposure, but water ran to the unsealed cracks.

This morning the ground was dry enough to drive the truck down to the tractor. He picked up the tire (which involved a jack and, probably, grunting), and found that it had holes in both the sidewall and the tread. We've known it had a slow leak for some time, requiring air every few days. That was the sidewall issue. The tread leak was new on Friday, when ten minutes of driving flattened it enough to come off. So Phil fixed the tread leak, ordered a new one so we no longer have the sidewall issue, put the tire back on, and drove both tractor and truck back.

He used the tractor to hoist plywood up to the roof, so that was a great relief.

Sadly, after ten sheets of plywood went up easily, he had five more to hoist. In a momentary bit of distraction, looking to make sure Joe was out of the way, he toggled something a bit the wrong direction, and those five sheets slid off the tractor forks. I don't know how much permanent damage happened to the bituthene; two corners of the plywood sheets looked a bit dented. But dark had fallen, and so he called it quits for the day.

He did another layer of blocking mid-joist, too. And he plans to do a rubber roof, but is researching what goes along with that: what connectors and sealants and such, so he can order. I'm researching flooring options. We had originally thought we'd stick with painted plywood, but I've decided I'm not such a fan of the look.

As well as it's coming along, it amazes me how much more there is to do!

Re-Joisting, er, Rejoicing

Phil was up and out before I woke up. He had a friend from church coming to help him, and so he prepped first with the rest of the waterproofing. Once that was done, he put down the rest of the top flashing and foam, put up the rest of the sill plate. When the friend came, I had a fun afternoon listening to them talking away, while they finished the center beam, and put up five more of the rimboards.

Then they put all the holders up, and put up all the joists.

I had fallen asleep for a couple of hours, and I came out to find the joists all done.

Much thanks to Amy and their four young ones for letting Andy come down for eight hours (Andy, too, of course, but I remember the times Phil would head out on his Saturday to help someone from church and I would have another day alone with the children, so I relate more to the wife's sacrifice).

Within twenty minutes of Andy's departure, a light rain began to fall, along with a rainbow. Sometime after 10pm, we had a heavy rain commence. Not too many more days until the roof makes the rain no longer a problem.

Tire Troubles

At 3:30 this morning, a deluge began. After listening to driving rain for about an hour, I finally got up. No need to drive myself crazy wondering why. The four inches of rain in the last 36 hours (or thereabouts) ... it happens. Okay.

The crawl space now smells, apparently, like the ocean. All those frog eggs laid, dried out, and dead. And living frogs on the walls. How will we get rid of the smell? Who knows?

We are so thankful for our minivan, with its zip and it's amazing seating and storage capacity. But it was time for the scheduled maintenance of the timing belt (which, Phil pointed out, would require an engine rebuild if it broke, so it's really good to get it replaced before it breaks). And the car has had a strange shimmy for a month or two—not horrible. The guys at the shop noticed that three of our tires were worn to ... I forget, but something really worn.

The car was in the shop all day yesterday, and finished this morning. Phil headed up to pick up the van this morning. That wasn't really a tire trouble, other than that I am mildly bitter that our van has needed four sets of tires in eight years. Impressive display of not-longevity!

Back home, Phil had "fun" things to do. He ordered the cuts we'd prefer for Clover's meat (lots of ground beef). He cut down some of the enormous weeds to make a path for a new cow paddock. He even cut down the weeds in front of the beehives (very carefully). Then he moved the cows from the lower pasture up to the finger, where they'll stay overnight.

He headed over to gather the watering tank and the posts and electric line. The tractor is quite useful for that task. He probably could haul the water tank half a mile by hand, but the tractor allows him to haul it all in one swoop.

Except that the front tire came off. That is a tire trouble. Sans jack and air compressor, he just headed home, sans tractor. What else could he do?

We talked about it. He probably needs a new tube for the tire. I suggested, in absence of an air compressor that will work a half mile from an electrical outlet, that he'll need to take off the wheel, bring it to the barn, do the fix-it magic that it requires, and bring it back to the tractor and put it back on. It's (extremely) rare that I have a suggestion that he has not thought of, but he was visibly relieved that there actually was a solution to the problem of the stranded tractor.

Of course, that does not help construction progress at all, which has more or less stalled this week.

The tractor, although no longer needed for concrete mixing, is vitally helpful in hoisting materials onto the roof, in carrying heavy materials from their stock pile to the building, in hauling equipment hither and yon.

Bummer.

Our Not So Funny Joke

Wednesday morning, Phil was up and working. It drizzled a bit, but he carried on despite the lack of dry surfaces. He made good progress, getting the beams up along the south wall. And then, about 2pm, the rains came. Or, as Phil said, "They were predicting a thunderstorm, but they didn't say anything about a monsoon." It poured.

Today Phil had an early morning meeting in town, and had arranged for the car's routine maintenance. Because the van has reached the point where a new timing belt is prudent, the repairs were expected to take much of the day, and the dealer got Phil a rental car so he could run some errands. Always a few more supplies for the building, a few ingredients I'd forgotten at the grocery. He reached home sometime after 1pm, and after checking in with the family, he unloaded the last bit of waterproofing and tools.

And then the rains came again. All afternoon. A brief cessation, and rain again in the evening. It feels like it's been like regularly, like going to work is a rain dance. It would be a joke, except it's not funny at all.

I had been lamenting my lack of planting this year: the one year I have no garden at all, the rains come in abundance. But as a friend pointed out, her plants are reeling from the extra fungal pressure. That's right. Rainfall is not drip irrigation.

Loading the Bull

Scrunched on the full-size mattress between Joe and Phil, I'm finding it more difficult to fall asleep these last few days. I don't know how early Phil woke up, but at 7:30 I heard running footsteps: "Get the older boys, and come out! The bull has escaped."

My thought was that Clover had bolted through the electric line, but I found out later that Phil, single-handedly, had managed to corral him within four gates. Satisfied that there was nothing left to be done before pickup, Phil went down to print out the butchering directions. When he returned a few minutes later, the gates were twisted and the bull was gone.

Thankfully (truly!), Clover had headed down to be near Belle, and not bolted into either forest or neighbor's land. In some ways, it was an idea setup. We had fenced Belle out of the asparagus patch, but not taken down the cattle panels on the far side of the asparagus, so Clover was trapped in a V-shaped area, with cattle panels on one side and Belle's electric line on the other. I was more than happy for him to trample around the asparagus, so long as he was contained.

Phil quickly set up a lane down the driveway, and with the boys and I running support, we soon had Clover back where he began.

Our friends up the road, the Bessettes, were bringing their bull and had graciously (truly!) agreed to take ours, too. Their bull loaded easily, and they came within about five minutes of Clover's re-containment.

Compared to loading a pig, a bull is—not easy, but manageable. The men set up a corral and squeezed Clover down until he had no way to go but up the ramp.

Or so we thought. Just as Phil said, "Amy, come stand on the far side," Clover got his head underneath and lifted.

That must have been what he did earlier.

But the Lykoshes now had practice with Clover. He, predictably, went back to his lady friend. Since Phil had already gathered the posts for the lane once, and the boys had picked them up and left them in the barn, gathering materials took little time. And so the lane was once again extended down the driveway, and we again pushed Clover back up. Once he reached the last 30', the electric line lane ended and the gates began. Michele stood on one side, and I stood on the other. We were instructed to kick near the eyes if he attempted to go under. Happily, he didn't.

The men tied the back of the gates together, then took a piece of rope and put it around his back side and pulled. Inch by inch Clover moved ahead. When he reached the ramp, he so did not want to go forward that his four hooves were so close together he looked like he might sit on his haunches like a dog. And at one point he almost slipped his legs out of rope, so Michele and I pushed on his backside. (This was more a push-ass operation than a kick-ass operation, if you'll forgive the crass expression.)

Then he was loaded, and the gate was closed. Phil and Dennis drove the two hours to the butcher without mishap. When unloading, Phil said that the two bulls were, inexplicably, put in the same pen initially. The Bessette's bull probably outweighed Clover by 50% (he's a BIG bull!), but Clover had horns and plenty of experience clashing heads with Charlemagne, so the competition was not going to end happily. They were separated out.

My part of this process was over by 9:30, though when Phil took the bull off the farm, I needed to open up more of the lower pasture for the cows. By 9:45 I was ready to milk Belle, but when I tried to pull her upslope, she wouldn't come readily. She had given only 3 cups last night (probably a bit dehydrated), and I realized I had absolutely no reserves to pull her upslope, milk out whatever bits she might give, and bring her back.

So I went and ate and cooled off. And I just milked her once today. (She gave 20 cups, so a goodly amount, but not so much that I felt bad for not milking her this morning. There's only so much of me to go around.)

Phil took the boys over to go swimming this afternoon. So, again, no building progress. We're stuck with the window center post and that's about it.

But we're on track to have our first farm beef later this month, and that is a great feeling.

As a funny aside, Joe's middle name is "Asaph," who was a psalm-writer and sort of worship leader. So it's ironic to me that, since he could first speak, he would tell me not to sing (maybe he has perfect pitch and it's painful?). He's shown no musical interest or aptitude whatsoever.

Imagine my surprise, then, that he created a guitar out of Duplos and has carried it around, with minor modifications, for the last two days. He'll have the stuffed animals "play" and make the musical sounds, either piercing for the "less talented" or more musical for the more capable.

I love that, even after eleven years of parenting, the boys still come up with surprising and creative new ideas.

Moving the Bull

Saturday was a half day of work on the building. Phil put up the center column for the long row of windows and did a bit more bituthene. Maybe something or other else, but he had definitely reached the physically dragging stage, where even standing up elicited a groan.

He had several engineering calls to make today, shorter conversations that somehow ate up the daylight hours.

This evening, he and I went to herd Clover the bull from the lower pasture up to the orchard, in hopes of bringing Clover to process tomorrow. Ever since I heard that we would need to do that, I have prayed every time it came to mind. The idea of trying to direct a full-testosterone bull a quarter mile (or thereabouts) did not excite me.

The first time we tried to cut him out of the herd, he soon bolted and rejoined the rest. So Phil gave his standard, "Yip yip yip" it's time to move call. Happily, Clover came in the middle of the herd, and it was easy (though a work of brilliance with unelectrified electric wire) to separate him out.

That was the most challenging moment. The second most challenging moment was next: we had to move him from the wide paddock down below up into the lane Phil had made. Which meant that, for a bit, he had full access to range hither and yon, and a single bolt could mean the undoing of a half hour's careful driving.

Phil's fast twitch muscles came in handy. One moment in particular, Clover was in a little gully and Phil was to the north. Clover climbed out of the gully in the correct direction and Phil bolted up the side and there he was, waiting for Clover to the south. I could imagine Clover wondering just how many Phils there were behind him. (I have no doubt he knew at all times that there was only one slow-moving pregnant Amy.)

Once he got into the lane, though, all was stress-free and relaxed. Clover has walked the lane with his companions numerous times, and he dutifully headed upslope, with Phil winding up the reel behind him. Short of fencing materials, with the bulk of the herd in the largest paddock, Belle in another, and the two calves in a third, we had to move Clover in three sections while we recycled the posts and wire. But even that wasn't horrible.

Really, my prayers were answered. Now for loading tomorrow.

In a sadder bit of news, I counted eight hens pecking food last Thursday. Today we had none. We considered getting a raccoon trap some weeks ago, but the thought was fleeting and now it's too late. Before we bring birds to the farm again, we'll need to figure out better ways to protect them.

I was quite annoyed that even chickens that were a dollar or two a bird and ready to lay were, I think, a financial loss to us (counting purchase price and feed costs). It feels like we simply can't win.

But then I remembered how we had enough eggs to make delicious fried rice for me in the mornings when I was still so ill, and how much better those eggs were than the store bought ones. And I realized anew that maybe the financial aspect of those birds doesn't tell the whole story.

Goodbye to the Animal We've Had the Longest

Phil headed out to work on the building when he noticed a pile of feathers. Guinea feathers.

The guinea nested in a tree about 15' off the ground, with no lower branches. Apparently the raccoon was willing to climb. We bought that little guy as a keet back in October '09, and he has survived long after the other six keets died. He was the last animal left from '09. I didn't necessarily love feeding him, but he was loud and funny looking, ate ticks, and had a magnificent wingspan when he flew overhead.

It's a bit odd to think that a bird has out-survived cats, a dog, goats, and sheep.

Phil had a frustrating day. After so much smooth sailing with framing, he finally had a day where everything went wrong. The brothers were playing among the joists that were waiting to go into place, and knocked them over, pinching fingers. In a Keystone Kop moment, Phil described it to me later: "Abraham's fingers were pinched, so Joe came over to help. Abraham got his fingers out, but then Joe's were stuck. I was up on the scaffolding and couldn't get down quickly, so I yelled to pull the fingers out. He couldn't or wouldn't, so then Abraham helped and got his fingers stuck again. And Joe's got stuck again, too."

No real harm done, the brothers left for other activities. Then the first board of the center beam that Phil had just put up fell off to the south. It didn't fall all the way to the floor, but it did warp the tube metal of the scaffolding.

He put it back up into place. Unbelievably, it then fell off to the north, and took the center column down with it!

I came down a bit later to check on progress. I didn't notice anything broken or really out of place, and that rascal board was up in place. But that was the only progress after several hours of work.

In the afternoon, Phil managed to get the entire west wall of bituthene started and finished. That was excellent progress, but the overall feeling of the day was simply a bit discouraging for him.

I spent several hours cleaning out the kitchen drawers. I was walking Belle back downslope yesterday and a little mouse went hopping down the driveway ahead of me. Neither dogs nor cat was anywhere around, and it hopped towards the propane tanks outside the motor home. I can guess it was going to join its family inside, as I opened several drawers today to find mouse droppings all over. So disgusting!

Progress on the Fourth

My day did not start out very well. Belle, plagued with flies these days, shifts forwards and backwards just a bit as I milk. If her hooves are covered, she kicks with her front legs, enough to dislodge the flies but not at all aggressively. She is a very good cow.

Last night, with all the rain we've had, she had mud squelching between her hooves, and when she kicked, a huge mud clod landed in the milk pail. I was planning to feed the calves anyway, and they didn't mind a chocolate-milk colored milk, colored with mud.

This morning I headed up to milk and the same thing happened. But this time, I had been rejoicing in the rich color of the milk. To watch a mud clod make a perfect parabola and land in my pail ... I admit I screamed in frustration. (And then, when that brought no response from any person making sure I was okay, I grew more grumpy. Petty, but true.) Did we actually need that milk? No. We had a gallon and a half or so in the refrigerator. But something about not being able to protect my planned on pail really irked me.

And it's funny how, when you want to be irked, there are always plenty of annoyances just waiting, whether it be the case of peaches that went from rock hard (as in, crunch like an apple when bit into) on Monday to almost 100% moldy today. Clearly those peaches were lacking in brix! Or maybe the stinky compost bowl that needed to go out and reminded me of my failings as a homemaker. Plus the general disarray of the living space (amazing how quickly 224 square feet can be completely suffused with all manner of debris!).

Hours later, after reading some in my beloved Mandelbaum Aeneid (my professor in college is mentioned in the Foreward to that book, so I have only two degrees of separation from the translator!), working with the boys to do a general cleanup, bringing out the compost, and eating several delicious peaches (the 70% that wasn't rotten), my day was looking better.

Phil's day ... that was another story. He had literally just brought the tractor down and picked up the first joist to load when it started sprinkling. Then raining. Not hard, and not long. Just enough to wet him through. After an hour or so, he came in. The grumpiness had spread. "My shoes are soaked. My shorts are soaked. I'm spreading mud everywhere. It's slippery." He took a nap.

I thought things were going better until I heard him tell some boys at play around him, "You need to leave me alone. Now." It turned out that he had been hammering in joist holders when a son who shall remain nameless climbed up the ladder to watch. In the split second he turned his head to make sure the son was safe, he whacked his thumb. With the heavy hammer with the dimpled surface.

I had tapped my thumb at times, hammering little brads into the wall. It wasn't fun. I gave my thumb a pretty good whack a few weeks back and was amazed that the pain continued for the rest of the day. Little thumb shooting pains. And I hadn't even whacked it hard enough to discolor.

I cannot imagine the pain of a heavier hammer, swung with Phil's strength. Ugh.

Besides, the rain was falling again. Only for two minutes or so, but enough time to get everything packed up and under cover. Phil took a break, ate some bread and cheese, and slept again.

When he stopped work, after 9pm, he had again made excellent, visible progress. The upper level center beam extends halfway now. He hammered in all the holders on both sides. He put up all the joists on one side of that beam (still waiting for dry weather for bituthene on the south wall): another eighth done.

And, in perhaps the most tiring of tasks, he had brought down all the joists so they are ready to go, and loaded all the plywood and hoisted it with the tractor up to the roof. (The boys spread it out, but only the same one and a half sheets from yesterday are actually in place permanently.)

And right at the end of the day, he put up the next piece of rimboard, in preparation for the next eighth.

With the plywood spread out, it's a very different feel. It'll be dark in there!

And, on a completely different note, two animal stories. Belle has a paddock right now of about an acre, with some trees in a gully, the road to the lower pasture, and all the land in the finger we had hoped to use for market garden crops. The fertilized but not planted soil has produced an abundant crop of rank weeds, most over my eye level. Every time I go to milk right now, I hope I will find her easily, because the idea of a tromp through 5' weeds, with ticks and snakes and mice—let's just say, it's not a favorite idea.

The first three times, she was in plain view, enjoying the clover and grass along the road. This evening, she had branched out into the tall weeds. I saw her backside as I walked down to get her, but when I called she darted further away. I wasn't sure if she was attempting to make her way to me, or if she was startled and spooked, or if she wanted to play hide and seek.

The boys stood upslope and called to me her progress. "She's at the big pit! She laid down [that was Abraham. I don't think he had a good view of what was happening]." And then, there she was. She had come when I summoned her, like an obedient dog. As I said, she's a good cow.

The other animal story is a bird story. I know most of the sounds here on the farm. I might not recognize exactly which bird is making which call, but I hear the same range of noises. Today, though, when I stepped out of the trailer, there was a weird shrieking noise. Then Phil said, "Look at the hawk!" And sure enough, a hawk came looping over the trees, shrieking away. A second hawk answered. They called back and forth for perhaps an hour. Presumably then they found a nice meal on a neighbor's property.

That's pretty neat!