Inside Out Job

I took advantage of some beautiful, but cold, weather to do an inside out job. Like many of my neighbors my garage had become a repository for all sorts of stuff -- but not actually a motor vehicle. There are plenty of bikes, trikes, scooters, jogging strollers, snow shoes etc. etc. as well as stowed detritus from last fall's yard clean-up and just generally junk. I attacked it today and cleaned it out and I think that my car will fit. It's not a big deal, not a big job, but it's a good thing to get out of the way. The garage cleaning is the sort of project that for which the winter is made. Next on my list is my workshop/storage area. It really is the little things in life that make me happy -- and taking control of stuff and its spread is a big source of joy -- it's cathartic.

Decorating Disaster

Last night, we decorated the Quarter Acre Christmas Tree. Child One unwrapped ornaments, commenting on the beauty of each, and hung them with glee, absolutely enjoying the moment. This is the the first year that she has been able to actively assist in the hanging of ornaments and it was one of the most enjoyable tree decorating events of our young family's history.

We decorated the tree twice last night. We also re-strung all of the lights.

While taking stock of the gift inventory in the basement, we heard the bouncing and popping of hard objects above our head. We ran upstairs to discover that the Quarter Acre Christmas Tree had toppled over, shattering many ornaments, spilling tree solution all over the rug, and generally creating holiday mayhem in the living room.

We are unsure of what made the tree topple, though we have a theory. We had placed some newspaper beneath the tree-stand to absorb any liquid that might spill during watering. Though the stand seemed stable it was obviously out of balance for when laden with lights and ornaments . . . It was ugly. Broken glass, pine needles and ornaments littered a soaked rug.

We picked up the broken glass, and tried as best we could to dry the rug. The physics of this event are intriguing to a non-scientist. Many of the balls on the sides of the tree landed on the floor but their hangers remained in place. The light strands dislodged from their original locations and clumped together in disheveled bands. Evidently, this fall generated a lot of force -- too much, at least, for tree lights and decorations. We lost some beautiful ornaments, one of which was a an antique purchased in Rhinebeck, NY several years ago. There is something extra-disappointing about breaking an ornament.

So, we restrung the lights -- they look better and are applied more rationally than before -- rehung the surviving ornaments, and went to bed when done at 1:30 AM. For the first time this year it finally felt like the holidays.

Christmas Tree Lighting

Everyone we know within our generation has a story of helping their father string lights around the tree and being told to "pass me the lights! Pay attention! Don't bump into the tree! Give me some slack!"

Now that we are a homeowner, responsible for purchasing and lighting our own tree, we laugh when thinking about our role as a lighting assistant, and understand completely why it was such a trying experience for our father. Because Child One and Child Two are too small to help, lighting the tree is a solitary endeavor with many spacing consultations and other internal reviews with Mrs. Agricola, and Child One.

From having rolled lights onto reels in the wrong direction at the end of last year (more on that in another post,) to seeking out the dead bulb that shorted half a string of lights, this year's Christmas tree lighting was an epic endeavor. What we had hoped would take only an hour ballooned into a three hour effort that pushed the decorating process into a multi-day affair. A tradition of sorts -- similar to being told to "pass me the lights!" -- has been born on the Quarter Acre. Someday, we're sure that we'll look back on it and laugh.

Seasonal Opening

This past weekend,in addition to rekindling our love affair with the Martini we began the process of decorating the Quarter Acre for Christmas. Greenery was purchased for the outside of the house. Lights were placed in windows, and on Sunday a yard-tree was dressed in lights, a spotlight was placed in the lawn to shine on the front door and the Christmas season officially opened on the Quarter Acre.

Child One helped us with the window lighting which was very fun. The house is really coming to life, and assuming a magical air. This is one of our favorite times of year on the Quarter Acre. A week after putting the yard to rest until the spring, the focus shifts to the house, the home and the interior life of the Quarter Acre. We take comfort, and delight in this transition which is so fitting at this time of year.

Seasonal Closure

Rather than spend the weekend after Thanksgiving battling the masses for silly sale prices on silly things we don't need (at Christmas time or any other time of year for that matter) we spent the weekend around the Quarter Acre shutting down the yard for the season.

We've raked the yard a couple of times this year, mowed the lawn close, applied the winterizer and basically kept things looking sharp. This past weekend was the final push. At the back of the property is a hill that runs the entire the width of the plot. Atop this hill sit several oak trees that produce copious amounts of acorns that litter the lawn and leaves that blanket the hill.

The leaf-blanketed hill is messy-looking, and we spent 6 hours raking it, bagging the leaves and taking the refuse (23 thirty Gallon bags) to the giant leaf pile at the town dump. It was one of the best days yet on the Quarter Acre -- a crisp, beautiful, November, Saturday, outside, engaged in good honest hard work that added a blister to the inside of our thumb, and a new layer of dirt and scuffs to our boots. Additionally, we cut the dead Hostas, Astilbes and other perennials to the ground; raked out beds; mowed the lawn for the last time (mainly to pick up stray leaves); put away the gas grill and the Adirondack chairs and disposed of a completely rotten chimenia.

The yard is neat and trim and looks as spare as the leafless trees that surround it. There is a beauty now to the Quarter Acre that is both of and from the season that increasingly settles upon it. Stripped down, dormant and waiting, the yard is closed for the season, anticipating the Spring and the beginning of next year's ministrations.

By Hand

One of our favorite things about the suburban transition is that the domicile is in need of work. Now, we're not talking about major renovations, but rather about cosmetic changes -- painting, cleaning, yard work. We just finished painting the dining room. This necessitated patching walls, the ceiling, sanding, cleaning, priming then the application of two coats of paint to all surfaces in the room (yes, we painted the ceiling and all the woodwork, if you don't do that, don't paint the room).

There is a lot of woodwork in our dining room -- chair rails, base boards, crown moldings and three door frames, a window frame and a neo-Classical styled corner hutch -- and it grew tedious near the end but looking at the finished product is gratifying. The job took several nights of work, after the day job and after the children were put to bed. A professional could have done it faster -- though not necessarily better -- and we would have been free to remain forever ensconced before the video altar. But, we took matters into our own hands, and got dirty, got paint splotched, and started to work on the callouses, toughening up relatively pink office hands.

One of the realities of living in a service based economy is that we can pay others to do nearly everything for us. Others can paint our dining rooms, mow our lawns, cook our meals and even train our children to pee in the pot. We like to do manual labor around the Quarter Acre. It reminds us of where we come from. It permits us to connect with our surroundings; use our hands on something more than a computer keyboard; take greater ownership of our property.

Better Living Through Chemicals

One of the things that I never anticipated about suburban living was the chemicals in which I would find myself awash on a nearly weekly basis. See, I'm now a bit more than a recreational chemical user despite the fact that I primarily use only on the weekends.

Just this pass weekend, on the stretch of lawn between the sidewalk and the street,I sprayed copious amounts of crab grass killer. Earlier in the spring I bathed in Malthion while killing bugs on my roses. I used some other horrible sounding chemical to kill Winter Moths. I have spread in excess of 30 pounds of fertilizer and an additional 10 pounds of grub killer and 6 pounds of high test antifungal powder from my spreader. This is certainly not organic lawn care, that's to be sure, but the lawn looks lovely, I get plenty of positive comments about the health of the lawn, and I'm proud of the results. On the flipside though, if you add to this the copious quantities of H2O (read, money) that I've poured on the lawn in addition to the chemicals, it should look good.

See, when living in Brooklyn domestic, legal chemical use was limited to a can of roach spray, toilet bowl cleaner and bleach. Now I own a veritable garden supply store of chemicals. The suburban-moving-homesteader must become very comfortable, very quickly, with the handling, use, and even sometimes, disposal of serious chemicals. One must also tell the children to stay off the lawn for a few watering cycles. It's worth it though when you look out the windows of your home and see green lawn all the way to the sidewalk.