My Storage War: Fall is the season for burrowing in. We pull out the winter woollies and move the summer clothes to storage. Warm flannelette replaces crisp cotton, stew replaces salad, and the deck furniture gets scrubbed and put into storage.
By put into storage, I mean I stuff it into our crawl space, which is four feet high, give or take a pinch, but it’s warm and dry. Did I mention the height? Maybe when I was younger my noggin was tougher and the occasional head bang didn’t hurt so much. My back was probably stronger too – more flexible.
This year I managed to get half the furniture stored before I bonked my head. My auto response was a spasm-inducing spine-lurch and enough four-letter words to clear the air in the crawl space. That’s when I made the executive decision that this would be the last year I played this contortionist game.
Off I went in search of a solution
I should have known better. It’s not that we don’t have alternative storage space it’s that none of it’s available. Hard to believe considering the four-bay garage, the two-bay tractor shed, the RV shelter, the boat shed, the beach shed, the wood shed, the pump house and the outhouse.
How is it possible we have NO free storage space? Even if I scratch the outhouse, wood shed and pump house from the list, we still have nine bays worth of space. NINE! Canadian Tire should be so lucky! When did we collect enough stuff to fill nine bays with no room left over for the deck furniture?
It boggles my mind, but there’s nothing to be done for it: I’m not doing the crawl-space limbo one more time. So this afternoon I pulled out a measuring tape to figure out how big a shed we’d need to house the deck furniture.
Number ten, here we come! I can’t believe it. If we ever decide to go into the shed business, we won’t have to build the samples. Oh wait…I think we’re already there.
These beautiful squash jumped into my car the other day when I was visiting Piercy’s farm. They were so beautiful, I couldn’t resist. It’s not like I run a home for wayward squash, but I am a sucker for fall colours, and they do perk up the porch.
I finished writing the first draft of the fourth book in my Gift Legacy series last week. The process didn’t end with a thunder clap and popped cork, like I’d hoped. More like a wet splat with cold tea.
This was my second reading at the McKellar Library, and once again, Maxine and Joan did a tremendous job of hosting the event. Not only was my reading announced on the Township’s roadside billboard, but they also advertised it in the local paper and even announced it on 103.3, Moose FM.
The wedding came off with only the one (expected) hitch. The bride was stunning, her groom handsome. Vows were spoken, cake was eaten, toasts were made, but it was the first time I’d seen a drone taking photographs.
When we were kids, we’d see maybe one boat go by each day, and when it did, it was an event. It didn’t matter that the boats were almost always canoes or small aluminum fishing boats. We’d run to the shore to see who it was and shout out, “Having any luck?” Sometimes they’d hold up their catch and we’d wave. Because of the falls, the river’s a dead end, so the boaters would all have to come back our way. We’d wave again and call out “Good luck,” and they’d disappear around the bend. Today, over the course of a day, a dozen pontoon boats or PWCs might motor past.