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Post by ydderf on Feb 4, 2015 10:34:16 GMT -6
The stars must be aligned!! I too am a guy who enjoys cooking. In fact I just set my bread aside for the first rise.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 4, 2015 14:56:55 GMT -6
Chapter 12
The graves that Dave Upman had dug earlier in the day were standing open as we turned onto Gunpowder Heights. There were also some small earthworks, where it looked like Dave had excavated a pair of shallow depressions to the west of the graveyard, and piled the material in a berm on the road side of the depressions. I wasn’t quite sure what he had in mind.
Dave and his small tractor were gone, and I wondered where I could find him. If he was willing, I wanted to borrow his tractor to pull the stumps in Henry’s yard. Since we had to wait until the Sheriff or his representative came out to look at the bodies, we couldn’t bury them immediately. We drove back to our house and pulled the truck into the barn. Pat said that she needed to check if the clothes were dry, so I decided to wander over to the Clay’s place and see if I could find Henry.
Upman was already helping Henry pull stumps in the area we had cleared the day before. “Hi Mark! We didn’t know how long you would be gone, so we started without you.”
There was already a half dozen stumps piled to the north of Clay’s mobile home. Dave had a heavy nylon strap, and was using that and the bucket attachment to tear the stumps out of the ground, and drag over to the pile when they were too large to move by hand. “I’m glad you realized that we needed your help here.” I responded.
Upman grimaced. “Wasn’t me. Young Henry here came and asked. Said you’d mentioned it while the two of you were working yesterday.” He waved at Clay. “But I was happy to help. Figure we’d all be trading favors to get things done for a while.”
Henry reddened slightly. “I got to thinking about some of the things you said yesterday, Mr. Griffin. If things don’t go back to the way they were, we’ve got to do something to make our own way. Not that we were doing all that great before, with electricity and stuff.” He scuffed the newly disturbed soil at his feet. “Heck, the only reason we have this land and house is ‘cause my dad wanted me and Barb out of the house for good. Sure couldn’t have bought it on my pay at the tire shop… or even Barb’s.”
“Don’t sweat it Henry. I wasn’t doing that much better when I was your age,” I reassured him. “It’s not what you’ve done in the past; it’s where you’re going from here. And you’ve got a great starting point.” I waved to the cleared ground, and the wood lot behind it. “So the question is: what do you plan to do with it?”
Clay gazed off into the trees, seeing something there that I couldn’t quite see. “I’ve got a little over four acres here. I was thinking that we should clear off two acres of trees, and then I want to do something like you’ve got… but not fruit trees and stuff. I need to figure out something different, that none of the rest of us has, and raise that. That way, I have something to trade with.”
I nodded approval at this idea. “You’ve got the right notion. We’ll all have to set our thinking caps, and see if we can come up with some ideas for you.” Turning to Upman, I continued. “And speaking of ideas, I get the impression that you have some ideas cooking, from the extra work you did down in the corner of your property.”
Dave nodded. “I do. Remember how you said the other night that the big transformers that were supposed to have been bombed are really hard to fix quickly? If that’s so, then we may be without general power for quite a while. Things are going to be a little different if that’s the case, especially if the banks are closed.”
I considered this. “Probably true. And I have a sneaking suspicion that the banks may be staying closed. Or if they open again, the dollar isn’t going to be worth the paper it’s printed on.”
“My point exactly.” Agreed Upman. “The whole country may be headed back to a barter economy. At least for the foreseeable future. What I was thinking was to set up a little trading post. I figured I could put in a couple of ponds, and maybe some decorative food gardens… sort of like what you’ve got out on your place. Generally, we all produce something we can trade. Or we will, once Henry here gets set up.”
Since this was pretty much what I have figured out yesterday, I couldn’t disagree with his conclusion. “Perhaps we should discuss it with the other families before we make too detailed a plan.” I observed.
We resumed working, pulling the stumps with the back hoe, and dragging them off to the side. “You know,” pondered Upman as he paused between stumps, “if we were to take some of those trees down without cutting them into sections, we could cut them into boards, and have building material to work on that trading post I was talking about.”
I merely grunted, saving my breath to pull the latest stump free from the loose soil that had come with it. The idea had merit. I’d have to ask around in town, and see if I could pick up on any leads on any old sawmill equipment. Of course, others might come to the same realization that things weren’t going go back soon, and then there’d be a demand for the old stuff.
The work was interrupted just before lunch by Billie Dulgen, who came running around the side of the Clay house like his pants were on fire. Waving to catch our attention, he waited for Dave to shut down the tractor so he could be heard. “Mr. Upman! Mr. Griffin, Mr. Clay! The Sheriff just got here. Mama said to come fetch you.”
“It’s time to take break, the man says,” commented Upman, climbing down from the machine. “Go tell your mom that we’ll be there shortly.” Pausing only to fold the nylon tow strap, and toss it onto the seat of the tractor, the three of us hiked back to the road. From here, we could see two patrol cars parked down at the end of the road, over on the Dulgen side of the loop. We headed in that direction. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Sue Dulgen had Sheriff Dunridge and two deputies – Booner and Fliener by their name tags – comfortably seated on their living room sofa and chair, with cups of coffee balanced on knees. Cory, and Vic were already present, also seated on the remaining seats in the room. “Here are three more of our neighbors,” declared Heinstead.
Dunridge started to rise, almost spilling his coffee. I waved him back hastily. “No need to get up gentlemen. Glad you could make it out so soon.”
“Hello, Mr. Griffin.” The Sheriff looked around for somewhere to put his coffee cup down, before handing it to deputy Fliener. “I was just speaking to Mr. Heinstead about what we found down in Shady Rest.”
Tom Marshall, Charlie Winters, and Andy Chapman crowded into the room, and I could see the women looking in front the hallway, with an assortment of kids peeking around the corner. “Getting a mite crowded for us all in here.” I remarked. “Perhaps we could all walk in the direction of the Upman barn.” Everyone turned to face me. “I’m sure the Sheriff and his men are going to want to see our visitors from last night.”
Dunridge nodded. “Yes, we do. After that, you can bury them, as we saw you were ready to do. I appreciate you holding off until we’ve had a chance to see things.” He stood up, taking his coffee back from the deputy. As the others rose to their feet, the Sheriff downed the remainder of the cup, and handed the mug back to Sue, who was standing in the arched entry from the foyer. “Thank you ma’am. That’s better coffee than we’ve been able to make back at the station.” Stepping toward the door, he continue. “As I’ve said, I headed over to Shady Rest Trailer Park with four of my deputies. I wasn’t really expecting trouble, but I was ready for it. The place only has a dozen old mobile homes. Some of them haven’t been lived in for a while, but there were still a few with residents.”
He waited outside the front door for everyone who wanted to hear to gather. “We found one trailer filled with dead: a man, a woman, and two kids. All of them had been stabbed to death. Pretty sure that was Poncillas’ work. Looks just like what he did over in Conover. Two other trailers had folks in them… tied up, but alive. We did find two guys hiding in another trailer. Two of my deputies took them into town to have a discussion about where they were last night.” He looked around and saw that he had our attention. “All the trailers but the one with the two guys hiding were cleaned out of food.” Dunridge was silent for a few moments as we walked down Gunpowder Heights. We absorbed the news about these murders, and realized that our actions over the last couple of nights may have saved one or more lives.
“I asked,” he continued after a few seconds, “about Cherry Ling and her kids. Everyone admitted knowing them, but no one knew if she had any kin. One of the people who was tied up… Sally Kinder… was able to tell us that at one of your bodies… Bobby Vedoris… was the father of at least one of the kids. She couldn’t give us any more information about them. She was able to identify the two men who weren’t tied up as being part of Poncillas’ gang, such as it was. They’d helped tie her and the others up before they went out to raid you folks.”
Colleen Veach had been trailing along on the periphery of the group as we walked. “But what about the children?”
Sheriff Dunridge paused for a moment before continuing down the road. “With no computer networks available, I can even begin trying to track down any other family. I’m afraid you are stuck with them. No one else is in any better shape to take on two extra mouths at this time. Sorry.”
Colleen looked speculatively back at the Sheriff. Douggie and Chery Ling had slept with her and her boyfriend’s two youngest the previous night, and if they had to keep them, it was likely that this arrangement would continue. I suspected from her expression that this didn’t entirely displease her. As we arrived at the Upman house, Colleen and Tina Upman distracted the younger kids into the house with promises of making cookies. The rest of us trooped back to the barn, shoving the doors open to let in the daylight.
We had arranged the deceased side by side in the barn the night before. We hadn’t bothered wrapping them in shrouds, since no one wanted to donate good sheets for the purpose. Dave had found a few burlap sacks to cover their faces, which I was just as please with, especially given the condition of the one woman. I didn’t need to see that again… and the older kids didn’t need to see it at all.
Dunridge gestured to one of the deputies, who immediately took out a paper and ink pad, and proceeded to fingerprint each of the bodies. “We'll just take prints to confirm identification. Not that I doubt the IDs were good, but best to double check.” We all stood around while the fingerprinting was completed, and then everybody trooped back out, and Dave swung the barn door shut. After the Sheriff left, we’d have to load up the bodies and take them to be buried.
As we walked back to Vic’s place, Dunridge continued. “You folks are set up better than most people, considering what’s happening at the moment. I was wondering if I could ask a favor of you?”
Vic, Cory, and I traded glances. “What can we help with Sheriff?”
“There are a lot of people right now who are stuck. No way to support themselves, what with businesses and the banks closed. Food isn’t particularly plentiful either.” He explained. “I was wondering if you could take in some people, and help them until things start getting back to normal.”
“Sheriff, it might not seem like it to you, but we’ve got a lot of work to do around here if we’re going to keep this place from falling apart,” pointed out Vic. “Adding more freeloaders will not make that job any easier.”
Dunridge held up his hands. “Didn’t say anything about freeloaders. I’m suggesting that I bring you some families that are hurting… but willing to work for their keep. No more than you think you can make room for though…”
Dave exchanged glances with Winters. “Well, it looks like our raiding problems have been taken care of for now, so there’s no reason that Charlie and I can move our families back to our own houses. Most of us have an extra room or two… that’s why we were able to stay with Dave and Cory last night.”
Tom Marshall called out. “My house has four bedrooms in it. If’n Henry is willing to keep boarding me for a while, I’d be willing to let two families share it for the time being.”
Vic looked at each of us, counting mentally. “That makes room for up to six families… although probably not more than a couple of kids per family.”
Dunridge seemed surprised at how easily he had gotten us to acquiesce, and at the number we were offering to let in. “That’s… mighty generous of you. I can start finding some families that won’t be a burden. Maybe bring the first of them out tomorrow.” We reached to sheriff’s cruisers. “I can’t thank you enough… not just for offering to help out, but also for taking care of that group of troublemakers.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Chapter 13
During afternoon, we buried the bodies.
It just seemed proper that everyone turned out as Tom Marshall volunteered to say a few words over the graves. “Lord, these people strayed from the righteous path. Please watch over their souls. We pray that they aren’t doomed to the eternal fire, but may eventually find their way back into your grace, even if they have to spend a spell in purgatory. Amen.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Post by mnn2300 on Feb 4, 2015 15:20:34 GMT -6
Hey, I'm a guy but also the main cook in our family - I was a professional chef for 25 years and even owned my own restaurant for 7 years. Got to be too many hours and I got too old, so I got into computers instead.
really enjoying the story so far - thanks!
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Post by biggkidd on Feb 4, 2015 17:38:02 GMT -6
I use to enjoy cooking myself, but found I do not share a kitchen well. If people wash and put things back in the proper places it may not be so bad. Worse a pet peeve of mine is dull knives, why can't they use a cutting board. A plate or counter top destroys the edge on a knife.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 4, 2015 20:23:10 GMT -6
Dull knives? I'm more worried about the scarred counter tops. And as for washing and putting things away... I'd be happy if kids would just rinse stuff off dishes, rather than letting it set up hard.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 5, 2015 16:48:47 GMT -6
Chapter 14
After the brief ceremony at our makeshift graveyard, rather than returning to the jobs we had been working on before the Sheriff came by, by mutual consent, everyone pitched in to help the Upmans, as well as Charlie Winters and Coleen Veach move back to their homes. Tom Marshall said that he would be staying with the Clays in their spare room, allowing that his old house could fit in two families, so we help him move anything that he thought he needed out of his old house.
After this moving around was completed, everyone returned to their own homes to do any necessary chores, and perform any necessary clean up to get ready for our new boarders. Since our house was too small to host another family, Pat and I went back to our regular routine of checking our orchard and greenhouses.
There’s something comforting about working with new plants, I thought as I filled a row of planting trays with the little biodegradable pots with seeds for our spring garden. By starting seeds here in our green houses in late February, the young plants would have a head start when we were past any danger of frost in mid April. Some plants, like lettuce and broccoli shrugged off a little bit of cold, but other things like tomatoes and peppers could be devastated by even one night of freezing temperatures. Although the day was in the mid 40’s, it was likely to be back down in the 20’s during the night.
Thinking of the Clays, and their new garden area, I decided to plant a few dozen more trays of seeds to help them off to a good start. Although I’d soon run out of the little disposable pots, the cost of starting seedlings was basically zero. The compost came from my own compost pile, which the ducks had created from discarded garden waste and kitchen scraps. The seeds came from our garden, where we grew the usual variety of vegetables. These were over and above the variety of fruits that we were growing in the orchard. Those were separate, and generally were grown from cuttings anyway.
The afternoon passed in peaceful reflection. We filled dozens of trays with hundreds of pots containing varieties of beans, beets, broccoli, Brussel sprouts, cabbage, carrots, celery, corn, cucumbers, eggplant, hot peppers, lettuce, melons, onions, parsnips, peas, pumpkins, squash, sweet peppers, Swiss chard, tomatoes, watermelon, and zucchini. Later, we would probably start some perennials, like asparagus and rhubarb, but we wouldn’t need any ourselves, since they were already in our garden, and did quite well from year to year. Certain things, like radishes grew so fast they didn’t need to be planted ahead of time. The ground crops, like garlic, potatoes, sweet potatoes, turnips, and Jewish artichoke could be planted when the soil was warmer, without starting them ahead of time. The herbs, like basil, fennel, parsley, and sage were also fast growers, and could be started closer to planting time.
The community had gotten into the habit of gathering at the Heinstead’s house for the evening meal, although I suspect that tradition might fall by the wayside of there were more people. It was a shame, I though as I washed up by the faucet outside the greenhouse. Nothing brings a neighborhood together better than sharing food.
Pat had preceded me back to the house, and was knocking about in the kitchen as I changed out the clothes I’d worn to plant seeds. I don’t know how or when they had done it, but the wives had somehow divided up the chore of preparation so that one family made one thing, and each other family made something else. Then, we’d all gather for a potluck style dinner. “What are we having tonight?” I called as I sat down at my desk.
“I’m making sweet potatoes,” she responded. “I think Sue was baking a ham, and Mary has a bean casserole she insists is delicious. Colleen said something about pie. Not sure what anyone else was bringing.”
My stomach rumbled in response as I turned on the radio. There wasn’t anything new on the news report, so rather than running down the battery, I turned it back off. “Let me know when you’re ready, and I can carry whatever you need me to.”
“Of course you will dear.” Pat had started the potatoes boiling before we had gone to the yard to work, and had since mashed and mixed them with other ingredients, including brown sugar and nuts, before putting it all in the wood stove oven to bake. I wondered how long our supply of sugars would last. Let’s see… beets could be used to make sugar, couldn’t they?
The big Dutch oven full of sweet potatoes was soon pulled from the oven, and wrapped in an old quilt for insulation and then put in a large cloth bag. Handing the bag to me, my wife put on her coat, and led the way out the door. “Careful the lid doesn’t come off. I don’t want orange mush all over the inside of my good shopping bag.”
From the front door of our house, to the front door of Vic and Mary’s big home was 350 feet by the path our feet took. Straight line, the distance was 280 feet, if you didn’t mind pushing through trees, brush, and ditches. Considering that I was wearing a clean shirt and pants, and that I had my hands loaded with part of our dinner, I was content to take the long route.
We met Henry, Barbara, and Tom as we walked down the road. Barbara had a small covered basket in her hands. When I glanced at the basket, she blushed. “Biscuits. Mr. Marshall helped me make them.” I glanced at Tom curiously. The old man studiously ignored me. I wondered what his motivation was. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ In addition to the sweet potatoes, ham, green beans, and biscuits, Coleen had made a pot of baked beans. Andy Chapman had come up with a big pan full of sautéed mushrooms. Tina had a big crock of ice cream that her kids had made. Even more than the previous night, the boisterous laughter of children from the kitchen and the animated conversation between the adults proved that we were adapting to this new normal. I wondered how quickly we would change back, if the electricity and money was restored.
As the dinner dishes were cleared from the table, and Sue, Mary, and Tina served us each a narrow slice of rhubarb pie à la mode, Charlie Winters stood up to wait for our attention. The adults quieted as we saw that he had something that he wanted to say.
“You all know that Colleen and I have been together now for three years, and have a child together.” He looked down at Veach, who blushed. “A lot of you may have thought there was something wrong with us living in sin… Yes, I’m looking at you Tom, you old dog! It’s not because I haven’t wanted to marry her you know. She just wasn’t ready.”
He glanced around the table. I wondered where he was going with this, although I had my suspicions. “Well, with what’s happening in the world, and especially with what’s been going on around here the last couple of days, today, Colleen decided that she was ready for us to get married.”
We all burst out with a cheer at this announcement. As we each pressed forward to shake hands with the couple, I thought that maybe the world wasn't half bad after all. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Post by ydderf on Feb 5, 2015 17:41:25 GMT -6
Thanks for the update. As usual well done.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 6, 2015 13:10:13 GMT -6
Chapter 15
Day 5. After breakfast, Pat and I walked toward are respective days. She toward the Dulgen house, to help the other ladies finish getting the rooms there ready for our expected guests, and I toward the Clay home, where Henry and I planned on cutting more trees back in a start toward getting the first of his new farmland clear. At the end of our driveway, we paused for a kiss before going our separate ways. I had taken no more than a step up the street when I saw a county sheriff’s car drive around the bend in the road. It was followed by a blue SUV. The two vehicles pulled around the circular drive at the end of Gunpowder Heights Road, passing me and my wife, before stopping between our driveway and the one leading onto the Dulgen property. One of the deputies got out of the official car… Deputy Booner, if I’d kept the names straight… and walked back toward me. The occupants of the SUV seemed content to remain in their car.
“Good morning sir, ma’am.” Booner seemed friendly enough. “Sheriff Dunridge asked me to escort these folks out, so you’d know they were part of the group you’d discussed yesterday.” He paused, as if to check that I knew what he was talking about. I gave a nod to show that I followed his statement. “Oh good. Well, the Sheriff thought that maybe we would bring them out one family at a time for the next week or so… so we don’t overload you getting them settled in. This family is Jeremy and Erica Lundeen, and their two boys… forgot their names. Fairly young couple, as you’ll see.”
He turned to return to his vehicle. “Well, I’ll leave them with you. Gotta get back to my patrol this morning. Me or one of the other guys will be by tomorrow, with another set. Let us know then if there’s any problem." His departure reminded me of that mouse in that cartoon… what was its name? Oh yeah… Speedy Gonzalez. Pat and I exchanged glances for a moment, and then we both burst into laughter.
Shaking my head in amusement, I walked over to the driver side window of the SUV. The car was still idling quietly. The young man in the driver’s seat looked back at me for a second when I rapped gently on the glass, and then hastened to roll the window down. Hand cranked windows. Good sign that these weren’t a load of yuppies. “Good morning. The deputy who brought you here said that your name was Lundeen. Guess you’ll be staying here at Gunpowder Heights for a while.”
Lundeen was rather spare, with light brown hair and eyes. “Yes sir. Where do you want me to go?” He looked like he was afraid that my answer would be “Away”. The young woman in the passenger seat looked worried, and somewhat pinched. I could see a couple of school age boys in the back, peering through the windows of the car.
I waved at the driveway in front of the SUV. “Pull into that driveway over there, and up to the house. That’s Cory Dulgen’s place. We all discussed things last night, and figured we’d place the first family with them. We’re probably looking at six families coming out here, and once everyone is in, we can figure out if there’s a better fit, and switch you all around at once, rather than shuffling every time there’s a change.”
Lundeen nodded, and put the SUV in gear, pulling forward slowly. Without comment, Pat and I followed on foot. The tree cutting would have to wait for a little bit.
The SUV pulled up to the house and stopped. Lundeen opened the door, and slowly got out. As we walked up the driveway, I could see Cory and his son coming over from the barn, where they had been working. Since we both had to walk the same distance, we converged on the newcomers at the same time.
Cory stepped around the SUV and introduced himself. “Hi. I’m Cory Dulgen. You must be our new house guests.” Not waiting for a response, he grabbed Lundeen’s hand and gave it a good shake. “This is my son, Billie. I see you’ve already met Mark and Pat Griffin.”
The newcomer appeared startled for a few seconds. “Err… no, we hadn’t been formally introduced. My name is Jeremy Lundeen. That’s my wife Erica. Come on out and say hi, dear.” Erica reluctantly got out of the car, and walked around to where we were all gathered.
“Don’t be nervous around these men folk, young lady. They’re generally tame.” My wife has an intuition about these kind of things. “Billie, why don’t you run inside and get your mother. She’ll want to meet her new guests.” The boy was anticipating this request, because he was off like a shot.
“I apologize for not introducing myself. My name is Mark Griffin.” I shook hands with Jeremy and Erica. “We live next door.” Pat shook hands as well.
“Your boys don’t have to stay in the car.” Cory stated. “If you’re living here, they might as well come on out and explore. When Billie gets back, we’ll send them out on a guided tour.” At a gesture from Erica, the boys scrambled out of the back seat, and were soon fidgeting before us.
“This is Tommy,” she announced, placing her hand on the slightly older boy’s shoulder, “and this is Jimmy.” Both had her ash blond hair, but seemed to favor their father’s brown eyes, as opposed to her blue ones.
Sue Dulgen arrived at that moment, pulled along by Billie. “And here’s my wife Susan. Billie, please give Tommy and Jimmy here a tour of our place, so they’ll know their way around when it’s time to do chores.”
“Come on guys!” Three boys raised in the direction of the barn, off on a whirlwind adventure. The first of many, I’m sure.
“Call me Sue. Everyone does.” Sue exchanged handshakes with the Lundeens. “Well, let’s not stand around like bunch of ninnies. Let’s get you moved in.”
One SUV doesn’t hold a lot of stuff, so it didn’t take that long for six of us to carry an assortment of suit cases and cardboard boxes into the house, and place them in the two rooms that the Dulgens had prepared for the new family. “Sorry we can't offer you a private bathroom,” Sue expressed her regret. “The bathroom is between the two rooms. We have another bathroom off of our bedroom, so we don’t use this one much. The third bathroom is up by the kitchen, and I’ve told Billie that he should use that.” Stepping into the room, Sue flicked on the light switch for a moment to demonstrate, and then turned it off.
“You have… electricity?” Erica seemed amazed. “They don’t have electric anywhere in town except the hospital and stuff.”
“Solar power, with a battery bank,” explained Cory. “You don’t want to leave lights on when you’re not using them, or the solar panels can't keep the batteries charged, but it’s convenient otherwise. You’ll find that we’ve got water too… cold anyway. We have a well on site, and a windmill keeps the tank full. Most of us up here have a similar arrangement. Can’t really do hot water though… that takes a lot of energy, and we don’t have that much electric.”
“There’s a limit on running water in town,” said Jeremy. “The utility workers came and shut off everybody’s water, except for places like the hospital. Everybody has to go to a neighborhood drop off to get water now. Five gallons per family per day.”
I shuddered. And this was in a small town. I wondered how much worse it was in the cities. Especially the big cities. I would have to make some QSOs on the radio tonight.
“So what are we supposed to do now?” asked Erica as we finished bring the things out of their vehicle.
“We ladies are baking some bread this morning,” informed Sue. “After that, I’m sure we’ll find something that needs doing.”
“And since my helper is out showing your boys around,” said Cory, “you can help me muck out the stalls in the barn, and lay down fresh straw for the pigs.” He grinned at Lundeen’s expression. “It’s not so bad. Just wait until it’s time to clip the pig’s hooves. There’s a fun time.” I grinned, and bid the others goodbye, pausing to kiss Pat again. It sounds like our new guests would be busy for a while. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Henry had made good progress clearing trees between the flagged lines that we had marked the previous afternoon. I had left my big Stihle with him, and he was wielding it like an old hand now. A dozen trees had been felled into the area that we had cleared yesterday, and he was deftly removing branches as I came up. I started to put in my hearing protection, but he saw me, and shut the saw down. “Hi Mark. I was beginning to wonder if you were going to be helping me today,” he called, taking out his ear plugs.
I glanced at the work he’d already accomplished. We had marked out an area that went an additional 100 feet back on the lot, and up to 180 feet wide, although it was of course narrower in the front where the property wasn’t that wide. I figured that we had an additional half acre of woods to cut, which would take until spring. “At the rate you’re going, you’ll have all three acres of your land cleared by dinner. We’ll have to call you Paul Bunion.” I waved back in the direction I’d come from. “Our first house guests have arrived. I was helping them settle in.”
Henry grinned. “Oh, I was wondering. As far as finishing today… well, it won’t be that fast, but it’s getting easier. I was thinking that we could leave the bigger logs in one piece, and make boards out of them, like Dave was saying.” He kicked one of the bigger logs in question. “Some of these things are 10 inches.”
I grinned at his enthusiasm. Two days ago, he had been feeling worthless. I didn’t know if it was the honest work, or the motivational encouragement that I’d heard Tom Marshall giving him the other day. “Sure. Just cut the tops off… if you can get 12, 16, and 20 foot lengths, we should be able to do something with them.” That reminded me that we needed to track down some saw mill style equipment. Maybe even a good commercial band saw…
“So, after we get all these trees out, will Dave let me borrow his tractor so I can plough?” Henry interrupted my musing with his question. “I know that gardens need to be planted in April, but isn’t there some other stuff I need to do to get it ready?”
Returning my attention to the present, I shook my head. “Dave has enough things to keep his tractor busy, and I had a thought. I read about a different method of cultivating that might work real well, and I was going to suggest it. It’s call Huglekultur. It comes from Germany, originally back in the middle ages. They had the same situation that you do… lots of wood from cleared forest, and no use for it.” I explained. “Yes, we’ll save the big logs… and you can cut up enough of the smaller stuff to make a 10 year supply of firewood… I estimate you’ll need about 50 cord for that… but the rest of it is just in the way.”
Henry looked around; trying to estimate how much was involved. “So what do I do with it? Burn it?”
“That’s what the pioneers used to do it, back when most of the country was forest. But there’s a better way. We’ll pile all the leftover wood… even the stumps from yesterday… into long rows, and then cover it with dirt. The wood will decompose over the next few years, and return its nutrients to the soil. You plant on top of the mounds.”
He stared off into the forest, trying to imagine how that would work. “Umm… I guess we’d have to leave breaks in the mounds to walk or drive through, from one row to the next, right?”
I nodded. “Exactly. And the Hugles don’t need to be right next to each other. They can be spaced every 20 or 30 feet… or even further, depending on how much debris you have to get rid of. More importantly, we’ll place them perpendicular to the slope of the land… that way they stop the rain water from running off, and gives it a chance to soak into the group. In fact, the decomposing wood of the hugles will act like a giant sponge, so you won’t need to worry about watering in the dry seasons after a while.”
Henry nodded… slowly at first, and then with increasing enthusiasm. “That would work! Hey, this job isn’t get done if we just stand here talking about it. Do you want to go get your other saw, or just start dragging the small stuff out of the way?”
I grinned at his enthusiasm. This was the determination that had made America a world power before the Politicians had screwed it up. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Post by biggkidd on Feb 6, 2015 16:09:37 GMT -6
"This was the determination that had made America a world power before the Politicians had screwed it up."
Excellent Fact
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Post by kaijafon on Feb 6, 2015 18:26:19 GMT -6
"This was the determination that had made America a world power before the Politicians had screwed it up."
Ain't that the truth! thanks so much!
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Post by kaijafon on Feb 6, 2015 18:26:52 GMT -6
"This was the determination that had made America a world power before the Politicians had screwed it up." Excellent Fact lol! didn't see this until after my quoting of it. (great minds and all that, lol)
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Post by ydderf on Feb 6, 2015 18:40:38 GMT -6
Again thanks for the update. When you get back to work I'm going to go into withdrawal!! The big saw would be a Stihl pronounced steele.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 6, 2015 19:07:48 GMT -6
Again thanks for the update. When you get back to work I'm going to go into withdrawal!! The big saw would be a Stihl pronounced steele. I got about half way through the next chapter after posting the most recent one before I got burned out for the day. Will finish and post by morning. Yes, you are correct on the spelling. I got it correct when I introduced the chainsaw a few chapters before, but I didn't take the time to check it this time through. I don't own one... can't justify the cost of the best in my current home (get by w/ dinky 12" electric... and use that infrequently).
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Post by biggkidd on Feb 6, 2015 20:30:28 GMT -6
Not meaning to high jack the thread. But all of you should at least hear of Dolmar chainsaws if not check them out. They are the Mercedes-Benz of chainsaws. Made in Germany by the same parent company as Mercedes-Benz. They are about the same price as Stihl but nicer with better features. IMO You can even order them with heated handles. (no joke) I ran a small engine shop the last couple years and only had two in the shop in that time. I couldn't keep track of the Stihl's and Poulan's, very few Echo's came in either.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 6, 2015 21:06:15 GMT -6
Not meaning to high jack the thread. But all of you should at least hear of Dolmar chainsaws if not check them out. They are the Mercedes-Benz of chainsaws. Posting useful information isn't hijacking the thread. (Now, if you went on for dozens of posts...) For those hanging on by their fingernails, here's the next chapter. More tomorrow. Chapter 16 Day 6. This time, when the deputy drove up, followed by not one, but two vehicles, several of us were waiting at the turn off to Gunpowder Heights Road. Besides Pat and me, Tom Marshall was there, as well as Dave Upman. While the Lundeens had seemed to be a good fit to stay with the Dulgens, we had decided that we should look the new folks over as they came in, and place them were they were likely to fit best. For today, we decided that we would choose between Tom’s house or Dave’s. The two vehicles were both heavy work pickups: diesel F-350’s. One of them was pulling a tandem trailer, and both the trailer and the back of the trucks were loaded with… stuff. The second truck was pulling… Hey, that was a cement mixer! I couldn’t tell what was on the trailer, or in the trucks, since it was all covered with blue tarps, but the mixer suggested that they would be good things. The trucks were driven by a middle age man and woman respectively. There were no passengers. Deputy Booner bounced out of his car today, obviously more certain of his reception. “Hi again, people. I’ve got your next customers.” He waved the drivers of the trucks forward. The two shut down their respective rigs, and got out of the heavy vehicles. As they came forward, Booner introduced them. “These are the Muellers. They don’t have any kids, but they have some equipment they wanted to bring.” As quickly as he as departed the day before, he turned to leave again. “Any problem with the folks from yesterday? No? Well, I’ll probably see you all tomorrow.” My imagination added a silent “Arriba, arriba!” as the deputy sped off on his duty. I turned back to the Muellers, who were looking around curiously. “Hello. I’m Mark Griffin. Let me introduce you to my wife Pat; we live up at the end of the road.” I waved up Gunpowder Heights. “This is Dave Upman… that’s his house up there on the left. This is Tom Marshall. He owns this house here.” “I’m Archie Mueller, and this is my wife Gloria.” Archie was a big, muscular specimen, running slightly to fat, with greying hair and a bald spot on his head. He wore wire frame glasses that gave him a studious look somewhat at odds with his construction worker build. Gloria was of a similar vintage and build, but didn’t have the glasses or bald spot. “When Sheriff Dunridge mentioned this place, we figured we’d bring some stuff to contribute.” He pointed over his shoulder at the trucks. “I run a construction contracting company, but with the power and banks and stuff… well, there’s no work, and the guys I’d normally hire are all at home drinking beer… at least as long as it lasts.” Dave reached out a hand. “Happy to meet you Archie. We won’t say no to your equipment, although I don’t know yet what we can use it for. Except for Tom’s land here, all of our lots are piddley small time operations.” Marshall objected to this description. “Hold on there. My land is all in hay… or it has been for the last five years. Cory Dulgen has better’n ten acres in a nut orchard, and Mark here has a three acre fruit orchard. Seems like those are something to talk about.” Archie glanced back and forth between the three of us, and then burst out laughing. “I think we’re going to like our stay here. Maybe the stuff I’ve brought along will help, or not. Guess we’ll have to see. You probably saw the concrete mixer. The trailer is loaded with Portland cement. Figure we can get sand and gravel if need be. I have a 12” table saw, 8” chop saw, a 42” joiner table, a bench press, a bunch of hand power tools, and a 12KW diesel generator to run it. Where’s the best place to store it all?” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Three hours later, we had Archie’s equipment unloaded into Dave Upman’s barn. Compared to the equipment that Dave or any of us had, Mueller’s equipment was massive. I decided that the table saw might be able to substitute for a saw mill, but resolved to discuss the matter with Archie, since we definitely didn’t want to get on his bad side. Besides his valuable equipment and material, he was bringing some valuable skills to our group: trained Architect, general contractor, framer, and roofer. Not that some one of us couldn’t manage to do most of these things, but more useful skills is always a plus. After discussing the housing situation, we all agreed that the Muellers should stay in Tom’s old house. We explained that they'd probably end up sharing with another family. They were just as pleased that they wouldn’t have to cohabit with a houseful of kids… theirs had moved away a decade before, and their attitudes was that visits from grandkids two or three times a year were fine, but overexposure was harmful to one’s health. I wasn’t sure if I entirely agreed with this sentiment, but I could follow the logic. Tom Marshall was fairly pleased to have responsible adults watching over his house, especially since there was no telling what the next batch the Sheriff sent out would be like. Dave was more than willing to provide the space in his barn to set up a lot of the power equipment, and was speculating about what we could build now that we had the extra capability. After unloading the equipment and cement, we had the Muellers drive the two work trucks and the trailer down and park them in the yard outside of the Marshall house. The mixer we left parked outside the barn. The couple’s personal items took up a small corner of one of the pickup beds, and after unloading that, we left Pat with Gloria to unpack things and set the house to rights. I asked Archie to accompany me up to Henry’s place, and the two of us headed up that way as Dave returned to the work he was doing in his field. “That house over there belongs to Charlie Winters and Colleen Veach.” I waved over to the right as we proceeded up the road. “They’ve been together for a few years, but just decided to get married.” I added to his questioning look. "Not sure where they all are at the moment… probably working up at the Dulgen place near the end of the road.” Archie shrugged. “I didn’t say anything. Considering you folks are doing us a favor, ‘twouldn’t be polite.” “With you and the other ‘boarders’ coming in, our little neighborhood is likely to get to be quite a community.” I commented mildly. “From what you’ve heard in town for the last few days, what’s your take on this whole emergency situation?” Mueller stared at me. “I hope you aren't waiting for things to go back to normal soon,” he said after a minute. “The local and county cops are doing their best to keep a handle on things, but the National Guard has people guarding all the key resources now… stores, warehouses. Stuff like that. I don’t see much effort going into fixing things.” I was silent in turn as we continued up the road. “Yeah, that’s what I figured. So do the others. Fortunately, most of us have expected something like this to happen eventually, so we’re set up pretty good. The rest of them are willing.” We walked a few more yards. “Are you willing?” Archie chuckled. “As opposed to going back into town, and hoping that the National Guard keeps the food coming in? I think I’d be willing for a lot better situation that you seem to be offering here.” I waved off to the right. “That’s Andy Chapman’s place. Retired vet… little bit of a loner since his missus passed. Helps out where he can.” We continued walking. “With you and the others that Sheriff Dunridge has promised to bring out, we’re going to be pretty tight for space out here. We were thinking that it might be a good thing to build some more houses and other buildings.” Archie cocked his head. “Home Depot is closed for business,” he commented. “Even if they were open, the Guard has everything valuable under control.” I motioned to the left. “That’s the Heinstead place. Vic and Mary. Actually, that was what I wanted to show you up here. Henry Clay’s place is mostly wooded. Mixed beech, poplar, oak, and maple for the main part. Generally about 50 years of growth, but some only 30 years.” Archie mused. “Good timber… but it isn’t cured. If it isn’t too big, we could probably cut it with my table saw… barely. Have to reinforce the table… or better yet, build a feed tray and takeoff to keep the weight off of it.” He whistled tunelessly. “We could do it… but the lumber wouldn’t be any good the first year, and not much better the second. Third year, OK, if we could keep it dry.” I grunted. “Here’s Henry’s place. Tom Marshall is staying here with Henry and his wife Barbara.” I pointed to the pile of wood and stumps on the north side of the house. “We were harvesting firewood from the leading edge of the wood the other day. Henry is just chopping it down today.” We could hear the sound of the chainsaw from behind the house. Archie crouched to examine some of the cut logs. “Hmm… good grain. If the whole logs looks like this, we can do something.” Standing back up, he continued. “What do you propose that we need to build, besides more housing?” I was prepared for this question, since Cory, Vic, and I had discussed it numerous times. “A community building. Since things went bad, the entire neighborhood has been meeting for dinner at Vic’s house. Last night was very crowded, and tonight, we’ll have to eat in shifts. We can use that for other things as well… school, church, whatever. Dave Upman is also talking about putting together a general store down on the corner. Those are the two that come to mind, but we can add more in the future.” We continued on to the back. “Yes, we can make it work. Temporary community center and store this year, followed by houses as needed. Then we rebuild the center and the store with good lumber in a year or three. Yeah, that would work.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Post by mnn2300 on Feb 6, 2015 22:15:54 GMT -6
Huglekultur -- I tried this for the first time last year in a small area - interesting results - some stuff did very well, some did not. One thing I noticed is that this spring (Hey it's almost spring in Texas) a lot of the buried wood must have decomposed as the dirt level is down about 6-8 inches from where it was last year.
Enjoying the story!
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 7, 2015 8:51:30 GMT -6
Huglekultur -- I tried this for the first time last year in a small area - interesting results - some stuff did very well, some did not. One thing I noticed is that this spring (Hey it's almost spring in Texas) a lot of the buried wood must have decomposed as the dirt level is down about 6-8 inches from where it was last year. I put in some mini-hugels last summer. Have to see how they produce this summer. Not likely to settle that much, since I didn't put that much wood in their cores.
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Post by freebirde on Feb 7, 2015 15:38:09 GMT -6
Corn will not do well in fresh Huglekultur. The decomposing wood tie up a bunch of nitrogen. It helps if you add fresh manure next to the wood then cover with soil. Also the heat from the decomposing manure will help speed up the break down of the wood.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 7, 2015 22:14:57 GMT -6
Chapter 17
Day 7. We had hardly sat down to breakfast when a sharp rap on our door interrupted our morning routine.
It was bad enough that I hadn’t slept that well the previous night. I had made a point of making a number of contacts on 40 meters, talking to hams on the west coast, the east coast, and in the mid-west. Some cities had managed to restore limited power… enough to keep basic services like water and sewer running, and enough to provide electrical service to homes for at least a few hours a day. Other cities… other cities were barely functional, with localized declarations of martial law. The presence of National Guard units that Mueller had reported in Lenoir was inflated a hundred fold in these cities, which seemed on the verge of collapse. I didn’t hear any more reports of water cannons being used to disperse crowds… generally water was too valuable to waste on crowd control. Instead, more serious – and permanent solutions were being used and reported. Merely hearing of them left me with nightmares.
The thumping on the door repeated as I stood, coffee in hand, and walked over to the door. Stepping through the inner door, I closed it to keep the warmth in, and unlocked the outer door.
Archie stood on the door step, practically bouncing with energy. “Good morning Mark! I’ve got some great ideas about the trading center I wanted to talk about, and I had a question about getting some material to mix concrete.”
Now, normally I’m a morning person, but I’d spent a good portion of the night tossing and turning. I sipped my coffee, and shivered in the near freezing air from outside. “Hello Archie. Come on in. We’re just eating breakfast.” I led him back into the house, closing both outer and inner doors behind us. I gestured toward the kitchen, and snagged the office chair in passing. Our kitchen table was small, with only two chairs. “Can I pour you a cup of coffee?”
“Coffee… elixir of life,” quipped Shredder. “Welcome to our home.”
Mueller seemed startled at the comment from the parrot. He seemed distracted as he answered my question. “Sure. Great.” As he stepped into the kitchen, he saw the tiny table, one chair already occupied by Pat. “Oh, hello Mrs. Griffin.”
“Pat dear.” My wife can be a very charming hostess. She moved my plate to one side, and indicated my chair. “Please join us for a cup.”
Rolling the office chair to the side of the table, and setting my own cup of coffee down next to my breakfast, I retrieved an extra mug from the cupboard, and returned to the stove to pour a cup of the black coffee warming there. “Sugar? I’m afraid we don’t have any creamer.”
“What? Oh, black would be fine.” As I handed the steaming cup to him, he expanded on his opening sally. “I was thinking that we could drive into town with a couple of pickups, and get a load of sand and gravel to use in making concrete. That way, we can mix up concrete to lay slabs for at least Dave’s trading post, and maybe even our community center.” He seemed to realize that he had the coffee in his hand, and took a big gulp.
I thought about this for a second. “Three things. First, is the National Guard going to let us take gravel and sand. Won’t they be guarding it? Secondly, while it’s been a while since I worked with any concrete, I do know that we should use reinforcing if we want it to hold up.” Actually, I’d supervised the construction of the very house we were sitting in, which used a lot of concrete, and a whole lot of reinforcing steel, especially in the roof. No need to mention that. I didn’t plan to tell him about my degree and career in Civil Engineering either, for that matter.
“Uh-uh,” he replied. “They are guarding stuff that people are actually likely to take. Food. Fuel. That kind of stuff. Besides, we can check with the sheriff and get permission, can’t we? Favor for a favor? As far as steel… I’ve got a bunch of rebar and 4” mesh back in my yard. I just didn’t have a way to haul it down yesterday.”
“Hardware?” I inquired.
“Some. I probably have enough j-hooks to set a couple hundred feet of wall.” Archie flicked off items on his fingers. “Bolts, ditto. Nails… some, although I could wish for more, especially 16s and 20s. Always seem to need more of those that I plan. I’m sure I have enough at the yard to do the first building or two that we were talking about.”
I swallowed a mouthful of scrambled duck-eggs, and followed it with a slug of coffee. “OK, say that we can get permission to get a load of sand, and another of gravel… How much room will the other stuff take up?”
Mueller ran his hand over his bald spot. “Hmm… If I pull my trailer along, we can load the rebar and mesh on that. If you could follow along with your truck, almost any pickup will handle everything else.”
I swirled the last of my coffee around in the bottom of the cup for a few seconds before drinking it. “Ok, we can go and get the rebar and stuff. Your truck and trailer combo will be enough for that. But that brings us back to the third thing. Have you thought about how much sand and gravel we’re going to need for these projects?”
“Not all that much… wait… how big did you say you wanted these buildings?”
“Both the community hall and general store will be easiest if we do them as slab construction.” I observed. “The store can be small… say 20 by 30. Three inch slab, that’s five and half yards of concrete. The big hall will probably be 40 by 50. Call it just shy of 20 yards. At over half a yard of sand and gravel per yard of concrete, we’re going to need… oh, a 20 yard dump load of each, just to get those two buildings done.”
Archie knocked on his head with his knuckles. “Hmmm… I guess I didn’t think that through. Most big projects, I just ordered ready-mix delivered. We only mixed our own batches for small jobs… a section of sidewalk or something.”
“Not impossible. I’m pretty sure the concrete plant won’t be running… but we could still get the aggregate, if we can work a deal with the gravel plant. They have trucks, and loaders.” I considered the possibilities. “I’ll work through the Sheriff, and see if he can help set it up. I expect that folks will be willing to work for pay.”
Mueller’s eyebrows went up. “Pay? The banks are closed; probably for good. What are we going to pay them with?”
I exchanged glances with Pat. “I’m sure we can find something to trade.”
From the next room, Shredder squawked. “Shiver me timbers mateys! Arrrrr!” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ At eight thirty, everyone in the neighborhood was gathered near the entrance to our street. Deputy Boone has arrived the last two days promptly at this time, and we were all interested to see what he would bring us this time.
The car that followed the law enforcement cruiser was certainly different than any we had seen before. The Muellers had arrived in their work trucks, and the Lundeens had been in an SUV. All the residents drove trucks, vans, or SUVs as well, except for the Clays, who used a station wagon.
Our newest arrivals were driving an older model sport sedan in faded maroon paint.
Boone pulled up as usual. He didn’t seem quite so chipper this morning. I suspected that things were getting a little harder out there. “Morning folks.” The other car, a Buick Regal, pulled up behind the deputy’s Taurus. The driver and passenger immediately got out of the car, and started walking toward the group. “These are the Steiners… Frank and Lulu. Any issues so far?” He started to turn to head back to his patrol car.
“Hey, wait a second.” Dave called. “We were hoping to see if we could get some construction materials down here.” I had discussed the matter with the others, after Archie had brought it to me. “Sand and gravel, to do a little building. We’ve got trade goods.”
Deputy Booner paused for a moment. “Let me call in to the Sheriff.” He got into his cruiser, but didn’t close the door. I could see him on the radio, although I couldn’t hear what was said. After a second, he climbed back out of the car. “Sheriff Dunridge says to come on in to the station, and he’ll see if he can’t hook you up with the owners of the gravel pit. He said you should bring whatever you wanted to use for trade. Food is always welcome. Money is OK, if you’ve got a lot of cash. Silver or gold will work too.” He paused to see if we had anything else to say, and then got back into the car and sped off. We watched as his car continued around the bend in the road and out of sight.
“I just wanted to tell you guys how happy we are to be here!” The new arrival, Frank Steiner, had a gravelly voice, not quite in keeping with the slacks, Hawaiian dress shirt, and sports jacket he wore. I noted that he had a holstered weapon concealed… poorly… under the jacket. While I approved of the gun, considering the current social climate, I hoped that he had a change of clothes more appropriate to hard work somewhere in the suitcases that packed the back seat, and presumably the trunk, of his car. The woman, a heavily made up blonde and the stocky teenage boy behind him were also dressed more for the city than the country.
“To start with, let me introduce everybody.” Dave took the lead, since he was closest. “I’m Dave Upman. That’s my wife, Tina, and my children Lindsey, Peter, and Hailey.” He pointed to each of them in turn. “Over there, we have Cory and Sue Delgan, and their kids Jenny, Maggie, and Billie; Vic and Mary Heinstead and their son Charlie. Mark and Pat Griffin; Tom Marshall; Henry and Barb Clay; Archie and Gloria Mueller; Andy Chapman; Charley Winters and Colleen Veach, and their kids Frankie, Melody, Angela, and Matthew.” He counted to make sure he’d gotten everyone. “Oh, yeah. Jeromy and Erica Lundeen, and their kids Tommy and Jimmy.”
The Steiners looked a little overwhelmed by the tally of residents of Gunpowder Heights. Lulu looked around the sparse vicinity. Only three houses were in sight. “Where are we supposed to stay?”
Vic stepped forward. “We could either put you up in our house, Dave’s, or Charley’s, since we don’t want your boy to be without other kids to play with… How ‘bout Dave’s. My boy is almost man grown, and pretty much works full time now. Charley has little ones. Dave’s kids are younger than your boy, but not excessively so. We’ll try that out, and if we need to change, we can do that later.”
Lulu nodded mutely, as if she found the idea of staying with another family not her cup of tea. Dave waved to the group of newcomers. “If you want to drive your car up the road here to the first driveway on the left we can get you unloaded and settled in. The rest of us will be getting back to work.”
The Steiners drove off to the house, and Dave and Tina walked in that direction to see to their guests. The rest of the group headed off to whatever tasks they had set themselves. Mueller and I headed toward the part of the Upman property that we had discussed laying out the new buildings.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 7, 2015 22:19:07 GMT -6
Corn will not do well in fresh Huglekultur. The decomposing wood tie up a bunch of nitrogen. It helps if you add fresh manure next to the wood then cover with soil. Also the heat from the decomposing manure will help speed up the break down of the wood. You are correct. I don't plan to do much corn... maybe a little as a small 3-sisters circle. Planning to plant beans and other nitrogen fixers among my other veggies.
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Post by mnn2300 on Feb 8, 2015 12:59:10 GMT -6
I sense there could be some problems coming.
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 8, 2015 14:34:47 GMT -6
Too obvious?
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Post by papaof2 on Feb 8, 2015 14:41:45 GMT -6
I expect the princess to complain about the pea under her mattress ;-)
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Post by Suburban Gardener on Feb 19, 2015 13:53:59 GMT -6
Day 8. As much as I hated to admit it, I hadn’t felt as alive during the last few years as I had since the power went out. Sure, not having full time grid electric, hot and cold running water, and easy access to the banks was an inconvenience. Yes, those same years had been full of activity as Pat and I had purchased our retirement home, moving out from suburbia and planted dozens of fruit trees and bushes to create a mini orchard. They were busy years, as we built our getaway cabin, the green houses, and barn; started our small flock of ducks; and established a dozen hives of bees.
This year, the pace of activity had slowed. All of our perennials had been established, but the berry bushes had barely started to produce last year, and the trees wouldn’t produce much until next year. The beehives were doing well, and I had hopes to harvest honey starting this summer, and perhaps begin making mead, but right now there was nothing to do. The ducks produced a few eggs, except in the coldest days of winter, but except for collecting them each morning, they didn’t need much care.
Now however, there were projects that needed to be done: important things, on which our livelihood depended. Every day was, to put it somewhat tritely, and adventure.
And so, I once again woke with enthusiasm. Today, I planned to go into town with Archie Mueller to arrange for a load or two of materials to be delivered to our growing community. We would also pick up a load of steel and hardware, which Mueller figured that he had in adequate supply for our immediate needs.
I found myself humming as I cranked up the generator to recharge the battery bank, cool the freezer, and fill the water tank. As I tromped across the frost covered yard out to the duck pen, my mind was already going over a rough design for our community house. Anything that we were to put up today would have to be considered temporary, since the green wood that Henry was cutting now was certain to warp over the next six months to a year. But the concrete we were talking about laying down would be good for 50 years or longer, and while it would be inconvenient to tear it down and rebuild it with dry lumber, it was doable. I wondered if we should plumb water and sewer under the slab?
Two of my ducks had gone broody, which I was happy to see. After tossing feed out in the yard for the other ducks, I gave the broody hens a small share near to their nests, encouraging them to get up long enough for me to sneak a few of the more recent eggs next to the ones they were sitting on. Generally, if the ducks didn’t want to brood, the eggs I left would sit around until they got stepped on by the big duck feet, making a mess. The eggs that were left had a chance of hatching, if they were incubated. I figured that there might be some more demand for ducklings in the new world.
Returning to the house with eggs and firewood, I helped Pat put together breakfast. “So what are you ladies going to be doing today?”
Pat put the fresh eggs in one of the cardboard cartons that we used to store them, and took a pair of yesterday’s eggs down to fry up for this morning’s breakfast. “We were going to get together over at Mary’s this morning after our next set of immigrants arrives. Most of the newcomers are short of clothing and basic necessities, so we’re all going to pool are clothes that don’t know longer fit, and get the little ones set up.” She broke the eggs into the hot grease of the frying pan. “We will also break out our knitting needles and yarn, which Mary assured me she has an abundant supply of.” Adding a dash of pepper to the eggs she continued, “Our next guests are going to Charlie and Colleen’s house, aren’t they?”
“That’s what we decided yesterday. Unless they don’t have any kids, in which case we’ll send them to Tom’s place.”
Pat nodded her understanding. “And how about you men?”
I shrugged. “Mueller and I will be heading into town to get a load of stuff. We’ll probably take a couple of people with us to help load. Everyone else will be working around here. Dave said he would be clearing the building sites for our town hall and the store. Cory mentioned that his ponds needed mucking out… that reminds me that I’ll have to do that soon too.” I paused to make a mental note to myself. One disadvantage of raising ducks… “And of course Henry is still working on clearing trees, and cutting wood.”
We passed the remainder of breakfast in a companionable silence. Neither of us said another word until the plates, utensils and cookware was cleaned and put away, and we sat sipping our morning cup of coffee. “Do you think our kids are all right?”
I considered this question. “Scott is in the Army. I expect that if anyone can live through any troubles, it will be the folks in the military. He, Deb, and their little one have off post quarters, but there’s not much around Leonard Wood to cause problems.” I dismissed our son from concern. “Heather and her husband and kids are in Dallas. Big city. Not a good place to be, although I haven’t heard of any specific problems in Texas.”
Rather than dwelling on something we could do anything about, I finished the coffee, and stood. “Deputy Booner will be arriving shortly. We’d better get a move on.” Placing the cup on the table, I headed toward the bedroom and the safe. “Just need to pull out some spending money.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Booner was pulling up at the entrance of Gunpowder Heights as we walked down the road to the intersection. He was followed this time by a small white crew cab pickup with a tool box mounted in the bed. The lean young man in the driver’s seat of the pickup had a weather beaten look, and the woman in the seat beside him looked tired, but alert. A smaller version of the woman occupied a car seat in the center of the rear seat of the truck.
We had shortly been introduced to the Audleys: Richard and Valerie, and their daughter Aimee. Colleen Veach took Valerie and Aimee off to her house to get settled, and Vic indicated that Richard should stay with the men as we discussed the day’s activities. Most of the remaining women went up the road to tend to their knitting.
Vic started the morning community meeting. “We have a lot of things that need doing today. Richard, we’re glad to have you join us, and by the look of things, you’ve got some skills and tools that will be useful to our community.”
Richard grinned. “I’ve been a framer and roofer for four years. If’n you’ve got a house or building to be built, than I’m all in.”
“We’ve got plans for that, but we aren’t going to be to the framing and roofing part for a while.” Heinstead nodded. “Today, we have to do some things to start on our new buildings. Dave Upman here will be clearing the building sites for both his store, and a community center… call it our town hall. He needs a couple of helpers. Any volunteers?” He glanced around, and didn’t see anyone eager to jump in. “OK, that’s fine. I’ll work with Dave, and Charlie can help out.” His son nodded, and moved over to stand beside Upman.
“Mark, I know that you and Archie were planning to drive into town today to look after construction materials.” Heinstead continued. “How many hands do you need?”
I considered this for a moment. “At least one. Not sure how safe town is, so I’d like to have someone who can act as guard while the rest of us are loading.”
Muller spoke up. “Gloria will be coming along. She knows our construction yard as well as I do, and is a good shot with a shotgun too.”
“Good.” Vic acknowledged. “Next, Henry, you’ve still got a lot of trees to cut, don’t you? How many men do you need?”
“Four of us are all that can work in the space available,” stated Clay emphatically. “One to fall, one to limb, and two to drag and stack.”
“I can do that,” volunteered Audley. Charlie Winters and Andy Chapman also stepped up to the task.
“Fine. That leaves mucking out ponds on the Dulgen property.” Vic observed. “I guess the rest of you can help out Cory.”
Steiner complained. “Hey, I was going to volunteer to go into town with Mark!” I observed that he hadn’t been eager to do so before finding out if there were any easier jobs.
Vic obviously thought so too. He glanced at me, and I shrugged. “OK, Frank, you can go with the town crew.” ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ We drove into town using Mueller’s newer F-350, pulling the flatbed trailer. Archie and his wife occupied the front seat, and Frank and I sat on the rear bench. Gloria held a pump action 12 gauge upright before her. I had my 45, and I was pretty sure that both Steiner and Mueller had side arms as well. I hoped that we wouldn’t need any of it, but if we did, then we were ready.
The ride into town was made in silence, and we were soon pulling into the parking lot outside the County buildings. Archie parked in an empty section of the sparsely populated lot, and the four of us walked to the Sherriff’s office. Dunridge wasn’t in, but the receptionist, Janice, had the information we needed, and we were soon on our way to meet with the owner at his material yard.
I had never been to the aggregate yard before. When we had built our house, I’d ordered from them a couple of times, but it was a matter of getting on the phone, and a truck showing up at our property. Archie evidently was very familiar with the place, because he knew right where to drive us, and pulled up next to the small office in the center of the yard. Piles of various materials were arrayed around the edges of the property. Several dump trucks were backed in at the north side of the lot, next to an older mobile home. A small truck scale occupied the driving lane on the opposite side of the office from where Archie parked.
For a minute, I thought we might have some problems when a trio of men came storming out of the office shack. But evidently they recognized Mueller as he stepped out of the truck. “Hey, Archie! Long time, man.”
Mueller indicated that the rest of us could get out. “Hey Gil. Gil, these are some of the folks from down where Sheriff Dunridge has us staying. Mark Griffin, Frank Steiner, and you know Gloria. Guys, this is Gilroy Tanner. He’s in charge of Martin Marietta Aggregates here in Lenoir.” Archie waved expansively at the site. “These are two of his guys… Miguel Hernandez and Pete Russell”
“Good to see you Archie, Gloria, and nice to meet you two.” Tanner seemed friendly enough, but was a little cautious. “What can I do for you all? You know that the banks are still closed, and we don’t sell on credit, much as I’d like to move some product.”
Mueller and I exchanged glances. We had discussed this the night before, and come to some conclusions. Money was no good, and the things that would be useful as barter items were things that could be used. I had made a couple of suggestions, and Archie had agreed that they would be acceptable to Tanner. “Business is down, huh? Maybe we can help you out. We are planning to mix some concrete on site, and need some agg to mix. We’d like to buy four loads… to of sand, and two of washed crushed agg… ¾” minus would be best. Delivered to our site down on Pine Mountain Road… a mile and a half from the south end.”
I could see Tanner figuring in his head. “Geeze Archie. I’d like to help you. Last week, I could tell you right off the cuff that that would cost you $2000 for 30 yards each of sand and gravel. Now, I don’t know how to price it. The diesel alone would cost me $400, just to run the trucks.”
“Well…” I was enjoying watching Archie exercise his negotiation skills. “What if we could provide you with some diesel?” He grinned at Tanner’s startled look. “We just happened to have four jerry-cans along with us.”
Gil’s lips moved as he calculated his fuel requirements. Archie had told me that he figured that it would take about three gallons per load for Tanner’s trucks to deliver material to our properties, and another gallon per load for loading. What we were offering would be in excess of this, but not so much that we appeared gullible.
Gil evidently realized this too. “OK, that takes care of the trucking costs. But sand and gravel isn’t free. I’d still need to charge you $1500 for materials.”
Archie scratched his head as if puzzled. “Well, if you insist on cash, I guess we can work something out, but I was going to work on trade. Would you consider taking silver? We’ve got some silver coins.”
Tanner’s eyes lit up. I noticed that Frank Steiner was suddenly more interested in the conversation as well. “Well yes. We could probably barter in silver.”
Silver had been running at about $200 per ounce up until the election back in November. After President Mallory’s election, it had jumped rapidly to $300, and had climbing slowly ever since. I happened to have a number of silver rounds that I’d bought with the proceeds of selling our city house, back in 2018. A fairly large number. I had ten of the coins in my pocket that I’d pulled out of the safe this morning.
“I’ll tell you what, Gil.” I had discussed the value of the silver with Archie last night, and we had decided what we were going to offer. “Last week, silver was trading at $375. That would take four ounces to cover $1500. It’s probably worth more now.” Mueller nodded to me.
I took five of the rounds out of my pocket. “We are willing to trade you five one ounce buffalo rounds for the gravel. That’s in addition to the 20 gallons of diesel.” I pulled my hand back as Gil started to reach for the coins. “You get the diesel and two ounces now, another ounce after the second dump load, and one more ounce after each additional load.” I held the coins close to my chest, making sure that they could be seen.
Gil licked his lips, and then nodded. “Done. We have two trucks that we can bring the material down with. I’ll drive one of them personally, since… no offense Miguel, Pete, an ounce or two of silver is a lot of money. Don’t worry guys… you’ll get a share.”
“We’ll be ready for the material tomorrow morning, if you can do that.” Archie said. “We’re on Gunpowder Heights Road. We’ll have someone waiting down on Pine Mountain waiting for you.”
“Yes, we can do that. We’ll load the gravel first.” Gil’s eyes were intent on the silver. I handed three of the rounds to Tanner, dropping the other two back into my pocket. I noticed that Steiner’s attention was also on the coins as they fell into my pocket, clinking as they hit the other rounds already there. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~ Archie’s yard was on the north side of town. An eight foot chain link fence with a strand of barb wire surrounded a gravel lot with a 12 x 16 shed and a 16 x 32 steel shelter. The shelter provided cover for racks of materials, including some scrap lumber, rolls of wire mesh, and an assortment of reinforcing steel. On older pickup was parked at the far end of the lot. Another, smaller trailer was parked next to the pickup.
“Welcome to our humble abode.” Mueller quipped as he climbed down from his seat, taking the keys out of the ignition. He walked over to the gate and unlocked the heavy padlock on the even heavier chain, working the restraining links from around the steel pipe of the gate. Once free, he secured the lock to the chain, and pushed the gate open. It rolled to one side on an angle iron track embedded in the ground, and fastened by anchors.
Returning to the truck, Archie pulled the F-350 into the yard, and expertly turned the bulky vehicle with trailer around in the limited space. We ended up with the truck parked just forward of the shed, and the trailer almost perfectly aligned with the shelter. “OK folks. All out. We’ll load hardware first… it’s all in the shed.” He opened the shed, which was secured with a dead bolt that appeared even heavier than the lock on the gate. “Gloria, keep watch. This is a bad neighborhood, for Lorain.” She acknowledged his order by loading shells into the shotgun.
“I’ve got quite a few boxes of nails and screws here.” Mueller explained. “If you would start with 16 and 20 penny nails, I’ll load some tie wire and j-bolts.”
Boxes of nails are fairly heavy. The big contractor boxes were 30 pounds each, and made of much heavier cardboard than the little boxes that you buy at a hardware store. “Archie, do we want the brights, or galvanized?”
“Better grab some of both. Grab 10 of each for 16d, and 10 more each of 20d.” He thought for a second. “And while we’re at it, better grab some 12d as well… but get those all brights. Not going to be using them much outside.”
Boxes of nails are fairly heavy… but they’re not THAT heavy. It took me about a minute to pick up a box, carry it out to the truck, and stack it against the front wall of the pickup bed. Archie had fitted his work truck with one of those fold-out steps on the side to make it easy to reach up into the bed. Big time saver. It allowed me to bring out a box and get it into the truck, and head back for another load. Total time under a minute.
Steiner wasn’t in any big hurry. By the time he got his first box out to the truck, I was right behind him with my second. I made two more trips before he got his second. When I got back with my fifth box, I saw that he was just tossing his boxes in however they landed, making it impossible to maximize the load, and getting in the way of both Archie and me as we loaded. “Frank, get up in the truck and stack the boxes neatly against the front end of the bed. I’ll bring out the boxes.” He looked at me blankly for a moment before scrambling into the truck.
Without further interruptions, we finished getting the hardware. After picking out the roles of tie wire and concrete anchors, Mueller helped me with nails. We ended up with over 50 boxes of nails in addition to the big stack of j-hooks. Frank’s stacking job wasn’t particularly stellar… I’m sure I could have made room for another half dozen boxes. Still, the suspension of the pickup was showing the load. I wouldn’t want to put this much weight in the back of my pickup.
“Now we get rebar,” was Archie’s only comment. I motioned Steiner down from the truck, and we move over to the shed. “Start with number 8 bar… that’s this stuff Frank. I only have 20 pieces of it left from my last project, so grab it all. Then we’ll start with number 6, 4, and 3, which I have plenty of. We’ll grab at least 50 number 6, and about 30 each of the 3s and 4s.” He grabbed one of the #8 bars. “Be careful how you swing these around. I only stock 12 foot sections, but you can still put out an eye or a windshield if you aren’t careful.”
We started loading the trailer. I noted how Archie had bolted short sections of 4x4 at the front and back of the trailer along both sides. They did a great job of keeping the heavy rebar from falling off on the side. Again, the material was fast to load, although I again noticed that Frank was slower than either of us.
“Police are here,” announced Gloria calmly. She kept the shotgun elevated, the butt resting on her hip.
Two City of Lenoir police officers were walking in from the street, where they had parked their cruiser across the entrance of the yard. They glanced around the yard, and then noted the boxes loaded in the back of the truck. Their eyes paused on the decal on the side of Archie’s truck, but paused even longer on Frank, who was nursing a finger that he had managed to pinch between two pieces of rebar as we worked.
“Good morning officers.” Mueller paused after sliding another section of #6 onto the trailer. “What can we help you with?”
“There have been reports of break-ins in the area over the last few days. We saw the gate open, and you all in here loading,” explained the older officer. Not that he was all that old… perhaps in his early 30s. “We wanted to check up on you.” He glanced up at Frank again, and then over at Gloria, who waited patiently with her shotgun. “Could we see some identification?”
Mueller shrugged and started to pull out his wallet. “Just picking up some construction material for a project we’re about to start,” he explained, digging through the billfold for his identification.
“He doesn’t have to give you his identification!” declared Steiner. “This is private property, and unless you’ve got a warrant, you can just hit the road.”
The officer had been about to take Archie’s license, but instead dropped his hand to the butt of his service revolver. “I thought I’d recognized you. You’re Franks Steiner. Bail bondsman and wanna-be lawyer. Ma’am,” he continued as he drew his gun, “I’m going to have to ask you to lower the weapon. I am going to place the bunch of you under arrest.”
Gloria frowned slightly, but slowly lowered the shotgun to one side, and placed it on a rack of steel rebar before stepping away. “Are you sure I can’t just shoot Frank officer? He hasn’t been much use to us anyway since Sheriff Dunridge sent him out to us.”
“Cover them.” The older officer ordered the slightly younger one. He holstered his sidearm and stepped forward to take Archie’s license, which Mueller was still holding out. “Archibald Mueller. Guess that matches with Mueller construction, which is on both your truck and the property. We’ve heard about the deal that the Mayor worked out with the Sheriff. Where are you folks from?”
I took that as my cue. “I’m Mark Griffin. I have property south of town off of Pine Mountain Road. Sheriff Dunridge asked my neighbors and me if we could take in some families who were having trouble. The Muellers are one of our guest families.” I glanced at Frank with disgust. “So are the Steiners.” I carefully drew my wallet out of my back pocket and presented my driver’s license and CC. “Archie offered the use of some of the material he had on site to help us put together better accommodations.”
The officer had a pained look as he examined my credentials. I could guess what was going through his head. He could arrest us, but he didn’t have anything legitimate to book us on, and we evidently had an in with important people in the local establishment. It would be a no-win situation for him. He handed back my identification cards. “OK, I guess. Please try not to discharge firearms in the city. I can understand you wanting to have them around here… I would too, if it were me. When you finish, make sure you secure your property. While there isn’t much here that your average thief would take… well, you never know.” With another glare at Steiner, he motioned to his partner and they went back to their car.
“A dozen rolls of that reinforcing mesh, and some of that 2” steel pipe, and we’ll be ready to go.” Archie instructed, as if nothing had happened. ~ ~ ~ ~ ~
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Post by biggkidd on Feb 19, 2015 17:44:19 GMT -6
Good chapter Thanks
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