My mind is in the gutter

Our primary goal for the overnight (along with setting up the bed) was to hang gutters. We quickly discovered that I'm much more effective as Chris' Lovely Assistant when I'm handing him tools than when I'm helping him do actual work.

We got one gutter piece hung before Chris decided to call in reinforcements. Our friend Mike won't be able to make it to Loveless until later in the week -- and four days of rain are forecast between now and then.

I've become quite the white knuckler these days.

The Thinker

As for the mud slide on the hill, I met a landscaper Saturday morning who said our most expedient solution would be to bring in some black dirt and throw down some grass seed. Argh. There go my plans for a mower-free property!

I’m letting go (temporarily) of my ideal vision of a hillside covered with ferns, wildflowers and native shrubs. At this point, I need to stop the bleeding. After a little research, I found a variety of sedge that’s native to Polk County and thrives in loamy soils like mine. That -- and the idea that I can add native plants and rain gardens later -- seems to be taking the edge off.

For the time being, there's going to be a little more hiring and a lot less sweat equity than I’d banked on. Poor Chris. He's still in a decent amount of pain and will be hobbled up for weeks to come.

Glamping

It took three trips to Menards to find the proper hardware and a healthy measure of cussin’ and sweatin’ before Chris and I finally figured out how to assemble the donated bed. Finally. Our first overnight at Loveless.

“We’re glamping!” said Chris, knocking his bare feet together to dust off the clay.  Glamorous camping. Pretty much.

With all the rain, the concrete floor is covered with red mud. And with no air circulating in the cool walkout basement, it was huuu-mid down there. Getting under those sheets felt like putting on a damp swimsuit.

We debated whether to leave the sheets on (will they get stinky and moldy?) or strip them and bring fresh ones next time.

We decided to leave them on -- and added a dehumidifier to our "to bring" list.

A vintage sleeping bag adds to the rustic decor.

The view from the future screen porch, currently a mosh pit.

Moving dirt

My colleague Dennis Anderson brought a couple tons of Love 2 Loveless last week, in the form of a giant dirt mover he trailered in from a friend’s place nearby.

Dennis spent four hours scooping and smoothing the hillside, and even had the foresight to spoon out some gentle slopes to encourage the rain to run away from the house.

All that work, and all he wanted was some lemonade. It must be an awful lot of fun to drive that thing.

Erosion

The mudslop under the casement window got most of the attention, but the reality is that Loveless is an erosion nightmare these days.

After the earth got scooped up to dig the foundation last year, the frozen ground and snow cover meant it didn’t get tamped down after all the activity. When the snow melted and rain poured, the piles caved in like hot butter through sugar. We sank to our knees during one March visit.

I’m reading up on native plants and trees that will be happy in the shade and clay-rich soil without a whole lot of intervention.

A smattering of determined ferns have pushed through the mud here and there. Last week, I found two spindly Colombines and what I think is a False Solomon’s Seal up by the weeHouse. Something about their tenacity made me feel really hopeful.

False Solomon's Seal, or something else?

High-tech, low-tech

Chris saw the hand surgeon earlier this week and asked whether a golf club might be in his future this summer. Surgeon said he was hopeful for a snow shovel. Ouch.

The reality of a long, slow recovery is starting to set in. Chris expects to be in the splint another six weeks.

This high-tech contraption is nothing but fishing lines, rubber bands and safety pins. His daily therapy involves lifting his fingers a subtle quarter of an inch, 10 times every hour.