S broke ground Friday morning, and poured the footings…

Then he finished it up yesterday morning. I was supposed to be involved in this – or at least I was available to be involved – but S works alone. So all I did was haul water for the concrete.

But there was still the matter of trenching from the rack to the powershed, and I did a big chunk of that this morning before breakfast. It mostly turned out to be easy: If the ground is just dirt, it’s easy as can be to trench but if it’s gravel and rocks, it’s the other thing. I got lucky…

…so the trenching went very quickly until I got to the big gate into the chicken yard. It’s wired shut, tied into chicken wire above and a concrete-filled trench below. Which is how you keep from feeding chickens to predators in the desert. I needed to cut all that wire, pry the big gate open for the first time in several years, and then pick away the concrete.

It would have been fairly straightforward, except when Ian and Landlady poured the concrete into the trench under the gate they first laid down a layer of chicken wire to further confound anything trying to tunnel under the gate. It worked just as well at confounding me. But humans have an advantage coyotes lack: Wire cutters! Once through, the hardest part of the trenching was done and I could go see about breakfast.

Little Bear, bless him, has matured into one of those dogs who’s content to keep you company without needing to be the center of attention. Unfortunately he’s also one of those dogs who’ll wander off and cause trouble if not tied down, but at least he doesn’t make a fuss about it. He’s content with company and a bit of shade.


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Scary Manifesto that keeps getting pushed down on the sidebar by filthy capitalism!
They say that Louis XIV had the inscription Ultima Ratio Regum cast into all the cannon of the French Army. It means “The Ultimate Argument of Kings,” and that always struck me as one of the most honest and up-front things any ruler or would-be ruler ever said. “We can dress it up prettier than this, but when it comes down to the unvarnished truth this is what it’s about: You’ll do as I say or I’ll send my goons to kill you.”
I thought about that for a long time. If there’s an ultimate argument, it seems only logical that there must be an ultimate answer. For years I thought the ultimate answer must be the bullets in my rifle, but it never seemed quite right. I’ve got bullets – he’s got frigging Cannon Balls. I mean, if there were three hundred million rifles throwing bullets at him, then maybe. But we all know that’s not going to happen. So if there’s an ultimate answer to his ultimate argument, it sure as hell ain’t bullets.
It finally came to me – and that’s when I abandoned the city and most of my stuff, and gave all that was behind me a good stiff Randian Shrug.
The ultimate answer to kings is not a bullet, but a belly laugh.
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That looks like a very substantial structure. I suppose that it’s all about wind loads on those panels?
Yeah. That ridgetop sees a lot of wind.
Consider yourself lucky, here in the north east those footing have to be below the frost line. At least 18 inches, or the frozen ground will eventually spit them back out.
Oh, yeah. In fact we’re not completely immune to that, so I’m hoping he went deep enough. The Lair’s piers start 30″ down.