Do I Have To?

Part 18

I’m shoving extra plants in anywhere I can. Around boulders, and trees, by the septic field. I’m taking out pieces of sod so more plants will fit. I’m at war with the slugs and am trying copper tape for the first time. I’ll let you know how that goes. Been taking them out as I see them and throwing them onto the road where they play a forced game of chicken with the cars. At least they are big enough to spot. Not as big as the massive ones on the BC Coast, but much bigger than the little pink pieces of snot in Calgary that could devastate a plant in no time due to sheer numbers. 

I found a beautiful (big!) moth on the inside side of the chicken wire. Instead of getting something to put over it and putting it somewhere else, I admired its long narrow wings, and had to refrain from petting its furry little head. When I thought about it later, I went back to get it, but it was gone. Likely, it’s laying lots of eggs somewhere in amongst my veggies.

Beans are all coming up. Black beans (I really like these ones, their green beans and their dried beans. It’s pretty prolific), green pole beans and yellow bush beans. The cucumbers are poking through and I saw a couple of corn sprouts as well. Exciting times around here at the Smerek Farm. The only things that have really gotten eaten are the cabbage and chamomile, but not everywhere. The basil took a licking so I’ve thrown more seeds in. I have GOT to get the carrot and beet seeds in. This would have been my second round of planting already, had I had the fence up earlier. Still and all, as they say, so far, so good. 🙂 

The fence is working out well. I feel like everything is secure. I hung the other 6′ wire and the gate. One thing I do notice when I’m in the fenced area, I feel a little like I’m on display. I’ve had a few conversations with passersby while in my cage. I need to make a couple of signs. 1. “Do not feed the Kim” and 2. “Warning: Kim bites”. Eventually the beans will grow up the chicken wire on that front side and the purple amaranth, planted on the outside of the fence will distract with its awesome flower stalks. Then I’ll be in my own (not so) secret garden.

On the house front, I’ve been dealing with irritating plumbing issues. I don’t like the thought of plumbing. It’s wet and dirty and awkward and frustrating. I’ve been putting it off, and just gotten used to turning the water on behind the toilet when I want to flush, because otherwise, it keeps filling and draining and the water pump sucks all of the precious water out of my well. The downstairs bathroom taps were having to be turned off with some serious force in order that they not drip. And I discovered that the spigot outside was leaking from a join under the kitchen sink, and filling the area with water. I do believe that one’s been going on for some time as the house, in that spot, has sunk and the floor is visibly slanted. I don’t want to deal with plumbing, but it is part of owning a house, and I’ll have to get used to it. 

The one good thing about renting, is that if something goes wrong with the house or the appliances, you just have to call up the landlord and they take care of it. Except the time I was hanging hooks in Maggie’s closet on a Sunday when she was at a friend’s house for a sleepover. We had recently moved out of a house we were renting that was falling apart, and into an apartment. They were brand new buildings and besides my daughter and I, the only other occupied apartment was my next door neighbour, Cristin. She and her two sons had been there a few months already.

It was my goal to get these hooks hung and her tiny room more organized before she came home. I marked the holes and drilled into the side wall in her closet. I hung the first hook and drilled the holes for the second. Two holes per hook. First hole done, then second hole and as I drew the drill bit out of the wall, it was followed by a hard stream of water, jetting straight out of the hole I had just drilled.

I immediately put my hands over the hole which only gave the water more force and it sprayed out sideways into the middle of her room. The clothes in her closet were getting soaked, so as the water gushed, I took everything out of her closet and threw it all on her bed. 

I ran to find a bucket and the water soaked into the rug and pooled on the laminate floor. Thank God I am an artist and always have many buckets ready for whatever purpose. As I held the bucket to the sideways gushing water, coming out and filling the bucket faster than I could think, I ran to the kitchen to empty the water into the sink and run back to fill it again meanwhile the floor was now covered in water, and it just kept coming. I knew I needed help, so I left the gushing water and rushed next door to see if Cristin was home. She was and I must have been frantic, because she came immediately. I got another bucket and Cristin stood in the closet, water jetting straight at her face every time I ran to empty the bucket in the kitchen and trade her full bucket for an empty one. We could not keep up with the flow of water.  

As she caught the water, I tried to call the building landlord. I left a frantic message when he didn’t pick up. I emptied another bucket and switched out buckets with Cristin who got blasted in the face again. We emptied bucket after bucket after bucket and we tried the landlord again. Nothing. The only thing I could think to do then was to call 911. We needed to get the water turned off. The woman on the 911 call told me to call a plumber, but it was Sunday, and the issue was the necessity of turning off the water in the building. In the end, she could probably hear the water coming out of the wall and sent the fire department. When they arrived, 4 big men rushed into my daughter’s room. I told them what happened as I ran to the kitchen to empty another bucket and Cristin got another shot of water in the face, One of the big fireman stepped into Maggie’s closet with an axe and took out the section of wall where the pipe had been punctured. Another big fireman stepped into the closet and put his sizable thumb over the hole. The water stopped and they all went down to the basement to take an axe to the door behind which the water main was located. The water was turned off, and they stuck a screw in the hole to stop the drip. 

The firemen left then, and I called the landlord once more, leaving another long, involved and apologetic message. The laminate floor was saved (after mopping up the water and keeping a heater on it for a day or so), Cristin called her ex-husband who had a plumber friend who came over to repair the pipe for a pittance, and Cristin and I cemented a friendship which I cherish to this day.

Plumbing has never been a friend. It is the acquaintance that you’ve known for a really long time, but always side-stepped around because you just know you are diametrically opposed. So in order to keep good terms, you acknowledge but not engage. Maybe that’s not the best metaphor… It was working just fine for me having to turn the water on to flush, and ream those faucet handles to the point of wrists cracking, but I could not expect guests to do it. I was going to have to make some repairs. I cleaned the toilet tank first. If I was going to have to stick my hand down inside there, I wanted to know it was at least clean. Years of built-up calcium or lime deposits and rust buildup (The tank is made of an enamelled cast iron) came off and the slimy residue was rendered extinct.

I Googled and YouTubed until I had seen and read everything that had been written or recorded about antique toilets. In my search for finding the fix, I came across some antique toilets for sale. It turns out mine is worth a good chunk of change. I can understand why. These old fixtures are workhorses that could easily last another hundred years. They just don’t make ’em like they used to.

Three hardware store visits and a drive to Yarmouth later, I found the right screw-on flapper, and rubber-tape secured the overflow pipe back into its footing. TaDa!! I fixed it. So proud, I approached the downstairs bathroom next with a bit of cockiness. Faucet handles off, rubber o-ring and (what was left of) the old washers removed from the cartridges (which were still in good shape), everything put back together, water turned on and voila! I fixed it.

Then there was the under-the-kitchen-sink, where the pipe was leaking to the outdoor spigot. Again, Google and YouTube gave me the info I needed, and the YouTuber plumber that I learned from was so cute and amusing that I watched all of his videos, just for the entertainment. Now in my own mind, that is how I think I come across: fun, light, witty and knowledgeable but in reality, I know I am much heavier. Still when it comes time to make a video, if that time ever comes (you know all the cool kids are doing it), I will try to encapsulate all that was funny and real about James aka plumberparts.

One of the hardest things about the plumbing repairs was not being able to be outside. I knew I had to do it, but I just didn’t want to have to spend good daylight hours inside the house when the weather is, as it has been. Beautiful and sunny for the most part, some nice warm days that had me in shorts and a tank top, and some cooler days, but all so lovely and full of the life emerging in this late spring. I want to bear witness to it all.

So I rubber-taped the leaky part of the join which seemed like the best way to approach this particular problem without having to seriously plumb. When that was done, I turned the water on and went outside to turn the water on from the spigot. Came back in and checked, and no leak!!! I fixed it. 

My friend Eleanor, came back for another weekend kayak course and after her day on the ocean, needed to rinse the salt off her gear. I located the hose, buried deep under biking stuff in the shed, and she started filling her big plastic bin. I went back inside to check on dinner in the oven, and heard a terrible spraying sound coming from under the kitchen sink. Aaargh! The pipe was spraying out from inside the wall!! I turned off the water and ran out to let Eleanor know. The boards that make up the floor under the sink are all removable. Once off, you can see under the house. The outside wall is held up on concrete blocks, sitting on dirt. I will have to open up that wall where the pipe goes through to the outside in order to properly fix that pipe now. I’m sure most of the wood is rotten and that it’s going to end up a big job. Ugh. 

The studio is calling me and after a bit of time away, I always feel as though I might have lost my abilities. It never happens, but still, I need to reinstitute the habit of coming into that creative space, where I am receptive and focused, and seated at a drawing table. I hope for a few rainy days that force me inside. I tend to find that is how I work anyways, lots of serious focused, productive time, and then times where I am out in the world doing and experiencing. Input times and output times.

Last Monday was a good day off. It was really too hot and sunny for me to be out in the garden for a second day in a row (we fair-skinned types have to suit up for the sun, and too much of it comes too soon). I will never have dark skin. I will never, in fact, even tan. So on this day, I drove my friend Jamie to the oral surgeon in Halifax to have his wisdom teeth taken out. Jamie is a new friend and we have not spent 6 hours together in a vehicle ever, but we seem to have no problem shooting the s*#t with one another. Besides, I owed him big time for all of the favours he’s done for me. I love driving. I love road trips, and I love singing in the car while driving. I tried not to subject him to that, so on the way there, we talked. He was nervous about the surgery. I went up with him to the office and they asked that I wait in the car while they performed the procedure. 45 minutes later (they must have seriously just yanked those things one after the other), I got the call to come and get him. He was out of it. Walking and talking and walrus-like with two big pieces of gauze hanging from either side of his mouth. As soon as we got in the car, he took the gauze out of his mouth and stared at the bloody pieces for a bit saying, “I don’t think I’m bleeding anymore.” I took two new pieces out of the little plastic bag of stuff they gave him and told him to put those ones in instead. He slept most of the way back and I sang (quietly) to the music on the radio. Good times.

Next: Everything For a Reason