No Weeds

This morning the landscapers, one man and two women, came and did something that I can't do.  One of the women climbed up on top of the retaining wall and walked along all one-hundred-ten feet pulling weeds and tossing them onto the lawn.  I'm not brave enough to be up there yanking away at the weeds.  They also trimmed some shrubs.  I knew if I tried doing that I'd end up taking off too much and have only sticks.

Once the landscapers left the sun came out so I went out to rake the leaves.  I used my leaf blower but the wind kept taking the leaves and blowing them the wrong way so I went back to the old technology.  Just me and a leaf rake.  The wind was cold enough that my sweater didn't keep me warm; I had to come in for a fleece jacket and some gloves.  That led me to carry up my flannel dresses and winter coat.  *sigh*

I worked on Stuck-at-Home Warshrag #6 this evening.  I wasn't sure I'd like these two green yarns together but I do.  I'm not such a fan of green, that was Mom's favorite color and I think it's DS's too.

18 October--Barbara Malcolm, The Seaview. 

Silas appeared to be just what I was looking for; he was nineteen years old, tall and muscular with an open, friendly face, and had finished his schooling the year before.  He worked for his dad, Johnno, a few hours a week but he really didn’t have the desire to work with the tourists.

“What kind of work are you wanting done, Mrs. Rose?” he asked.

“I just bought the Seaview down the beach from Johnno’s and I have a container of building materials on the way.  I need someone with strong muscles to help me demolish the things that need replacing.”  I mentally crossed my fingers.  “Do you think you might be interested?  I think there’s at least six months of work.”

I named an hourly rate.

He countered.

We agreed to meet in the middle.

He grinned.  “I have my own crowbar and I can borrow a sledgehammer and ten-pound maul from my brother-in-law in St. Martin.  When do you want to start?”

We arranged to meet the next morning at the Seaview to go over what needed to be done.  He gave me the name and address of a man who rented out dumpsters.  That was the second item on my “to do” list.

 

I went to Blowing Point, the village where the ferry from St. Martin docked and where the dumpster man had his yard.  It looked like a graveyard for scrap metal when I drove in.  I was concerned that I would drive over something sharp and puncture a tire so I was careful to stay in the tracks in the gravel made by the cars already there.

Mr. Carty said, "Ah, Mrs. Rose Lambert, Mr. Abrahams the solicitor told me that you have bought the Seaview.  I thought you might be stopping in."  He offered his hand, rubbing it on a rag he pulled from a pocket first.

"Nice to meet you," was all I said before he spoke again.

"I am certain that you will remove all of the old wood, walls, wiring, and plumbing so you will need a large dumpster." He pointed to a row of rusty green rubbish bins with "Carty Salvage" painted on the side.  "Will you be doing the work yourself?"

I shook my head.  "Anne Robinson's nephew, Silas, will be doing most of the work."

"Silas is a good boy," Mr. Carty said.  "Now where shall we park the dumpster?"

I realized that there was only one possible place, on the shoulder behind the hotel, but there wasn't room for more than one or two cars.  “Where did the guests of the Seaview park before it closed?”

He rocked back on his heels like my grandpa’s farmer friends had done when I was small, impressed that they hadn't tipped over because they swayed back so far.  “You see, in those days that pale yellow house across the road from the hotel was not built.  Cars would park there.”  He tapped his chin with one finger like a genie in an old movie.  “Perhaps you can arrange for your guests to park next to Tamarind Watersports.  Ian might allow it, if you let him advertise his shop to your guests.”

“I was hoping to put my brochures in the dive shop so I suppose I could offer to include his information in my lobby and mention him on my website in exchange for the use of a few parking places.”  We agreed on the size of the dumpster and what time it would be delivered that afternoon, shook hands again, and I drove away.

Today's toss was an envelope of greeting cards from a few years ago and some old papers so today's toss was a real toss right into the recycle bin.

It has come to my attention that all of my long-sleeve tee shirts are too big.  Just about everything I own is too big, except for a couple pairs of jeans that I've had for about 20 years and couldn't fit into before.  So I went on Land's End and ordered some shirts but I don't think I can order jeans online.  Jeans have to be tried on, especially since I'm not sure of my size, but right now I'm not comfortable being in the store long enough to really shop.  Also I'm trying to figure out how to take in the dresses that I've made the last couple years without having to unpick all the neck and armhole stitches.  I'll think of something.

--Barbara