It's All About Maintenance

A colleaugue once told me that after turning 50, it was all about maintenance. After 70, it seems to me, it is all about repairs. The same is true about homes.

We love our home. But it is an old one. Perhaps that’s all the more reason to love it. But it means, like ourselves, as we age there is always something that needs fixing. 

The original structure of c. 1844 was fairly simple. But in the late 1800s or very early 1900s, frills were added. These consisted of ornate trim, bay windows and a turret. When one adds onto an existing structure, it may enhance it visually, but it tends to compromise it structurally. So, the relatively simple repairs we had contemplated, have uncovered more complex issues. And the anticipated cost of the work has mounted. 

However, wherever we have lived, we have considered ourselves stewards of our properties. We are there not only to enjoy the place, but also as caretakers of it. The house has stood here for more than 180 years. We would like it to stand proudly here for many more years, and long after we have shuffled off our mortal coils. 

Thankfully, we have a very capable, responsible and engaged contractor to undertake the work. It may mean wieners and beans instead of steak for dinner, but we shall dine in the comfort of a lovely home!

Springing Into Action

The daffodils have been slow to bloom this year and so has our forsythia, but their vibrant yellows are now gracing our garden. But the real sign of spring for me has been sighting the first seal of the year off our shore. And that was yesterday. I love it when they breech, arching their shiny backs before disappearing.

Of course, we’ve had the loons, seven of them, now starting to show their summer coats, but they have already taken off to their summer nesting grounds. It leaves us with the ducks, and the cormorants as well as the ubiquitous and graceful gulls.

Another sign of spring is when the first boat arrives for repairs at the dry dock across the river. There have now been two boats come to settle in the cradle on land; one is still there. And yesterday we witnessed a lobster boat dropping numerus cages in the river in front of us. We had never seen this before. And oddly they were the old wooden cages, rather than the newer metal ones.

There are so many signs of spring, but I have yet to hear the peepers on North Street. And this seems very late to me. Perhaps one forgets from year to year. And then, of course, each year is slightly different. And as a sign at the Home Hardware states: “Welcome to Winter, Spring, Winter, Spring.” Indeed, it has been a very on again and off again season.

But spring is definitely in the air.