Saturday, 17 February 2018
Last Saturday evening I was sitting in the living room when I began to hear drip! drip! drip! A little investigation found water dripping from the ceiling in the dining room which was bulging downward.
Quick work by my husband led piercing the sagging plaster, catching about two gallons of water in a big bucket, and, subsequently, pulling down a lot of wet lath and plaster. This is what things looked like on Monday morning.
What a mess, you might say. One of the joys of home ownership, you might add. We discovered a leak in the pipe leading from the reservoir of the toilet upstairs to the pipe leading to the sewer, which in turn led to an expensive visit from plumbers who replaced the pipe and the toilet, and discovered another leak in the bath tub drain. All that is fixed now, only the holes remain.
The good thing about this is that it occurred when it did. The night before we had a dinner party and at the same time the leak sprang forth on Saturday, on Friday we were just about to begin the cheese course. The wine and the conversation were flowing, we were having a lovely time. So glad we didn't have to hustle everyone out so that water-rescue could begin!
Also since we were home and awake when the leak began, there was little if any collateral damage. I shudder to think what would have happened to our books, hardwood floors (replaced seven years ago after our fire,) book and artwork if the water had flowed for a significant amount of time.
Is there a lesson here? Maybe its that being optimistic doesn't stop life's glitches from happening, but it makes facing them a bit easier to deal with.
Saturday, 10 February 2018
This year I must have done something right, because it had a lot of blossoms when I brought it in, which have transformed into perhaps three dozen oranges. Quite wonderful, I think. Later on when they start to fall, I'll get the grandkids to plant some of their seeds so they can have their own little tree.
This comes just after I read a very interesting social history of California, Trees in Paradise by Jared Farmer. The book tells the stories of four sorts of trees in the Golden State, the Sequoia, Eucalyptus, orange and palm. Farmer uses these as points of departure for a detailed, pretty rigorous account of California since 1850, and for reflections on how people have remade the landscape, for good (a bit) or for ill (mostly.)
I found the method particularly interesting because I'm currently struggling to organize the vast amount of material I've been collecting about concrete for my next book Rock of Ages: How Concrete Built the World as We Know It. Right now I'm wondering: Why not use the four elements the Ancients recognized--earth, fire, water and air--to tell this story?
To be continued...
Sunday, 4 February 2018
Beauty can be found in a lot of places, não é?