We’re obviously scraping the forward edge of Monsoon here, with warm muggy mornings and stormy afternoons. Yesterday the storm held off until almost five but when it came it brought some actual rain as opposed to thunderous ovations for a little sprinkle. That’s the way the season typically starts and while only a fool would bet on the weather around here, it was a wet winter and a wet spring and there’s no really good reason not to plan on a wet Monsoon.
…this morning before it got hot I dug out the lower half of the little ditch that runs through my yard, carrying off the drainage from the small eastern gully and encouraging it not to sheet across the yard. This ditch tends to fill in over the season and I typically leave it silted up until I need it, since it’s a colossal pain in the ass and only serves a purpose for a couple of months in the year. Fortunately while the weather was cool I already saw to the much bigger runoff ditch behind the cabin, which serves a bigger gully that can do real damage. So, since the new porch roof’s gutter is complete and tested, I’m already only one more morning’s work away from being as prepared for Monsoon as I can practically get.
Then I could finally take my first good morning walkie since returning from the city – just take my rifle and some water, go out and have some fun.
And oh my goodness they’re nice. I sure hope my plastic foot doesn’t wear through the sole too quickly because this is the first really comfortable pair of summer boots I’ve had in four years or so. But with lightweight boots the longevity of the soles is always a crapshoot: I’ll just have to wait and see, and enjoy the comfort in the meantime.
I was able to pleasantly work up a good stink before 8:30. Now I’m going to take some coffee out to the porch and finish this new book written by a Friend of the Gulch, which I received too soon before my trip to properly read and review. This afternoon I’m going to fix the handrail on the stairs, which served well enough over the winter but did work itself kind of loose. By the end of the week I expect I’ll be sufficiently back into the rhythm of living here that I can turn my attention back to the next Big Ugly Project, painting the porch.