The downspout burst a month or so ago, and instead of allowing the water to pour into the crawl space, I rigged up a fancy device to pull the downspout away from the house. But a couple of nights ago the downspout burst further up. It might be time to replace the downspout. Also visible, at the end of the downspout, the result of banging at it repeatedly with a hammer to free the ice inside.
The reason for all of this is quite simple. I ventured outside Sunday morning to look at the min-max thermometer, and it registered three below zero. Minus nineteen point four Celsius. This is not spring.
If I had any sense at all I would put the house up for sale and move some place that had a reasonable climate, one where the only experience of snow comes in plastic globes sold for Christmas.
I think about moving from time to time, though the fairly large garden surrounding the house might make it difficult to sell. On the other hand, when we were looking for houses back in the mid 80s we went through a house where the previous owner had a pet monkey that had been trained to use the bathroom (in the house), and the house did eventually sell.
This is the horticultural equivalent of a trained monkey. It’s a good thing I delayed planting of this little garden. It isn’t finished anyway. Imagining the worst, I wrapped the Hesperaloe funifera and Caesalpinia gilliesii. The snow in the right of the picture is really twice as blindingly bright as it appears.
Moving house involves so much work–work I don’t want to do—that I think I’ll just go look at rocks later this week.