Timberrrrrrrrr!
Last step, while there’s an opening for machinery: hacking away the hedge that separates Badger House from the miles of sheep behind. I sort of liked the Secret Garden look it had surrounded on all four sides by high green walls, but the hedge at the back wasn’t appropriate (Leyland Cypress, a North American transplant) and the view is spectacular.
Wind seldom blows from that quarter, but it’s exceptionally bitter when it does. We’ll have to see what sort of windbreak we can get away with.
And so ends Shit Week on a bucolic note.
Posted: January 25th, 2008 under badger house, blogging, personal.
Comments: 19
Comments
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 25, 2008, 7:34 pm
That reminds me: the country house that was the basis for The Secret Garden (loved it when I was a kid) has been broken up into flats and offered for sale. I saw an ad for them in the free paper when I was Over There last.
I’ve just Googled around trying to find a link for you, but “secret garden” has passed into real estate language, apparently, muddying the waters.
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 25, 2008, 7:41 pm
Hm. Well. Here’s the Wikipedia entry on it. Seems it was broken into flats in the ’60s.
So I guess one or more simply came up for sale while I was there.
Comment from Mrs. Peel
Time: January 25, 2008, 7:58 pm
Weas, I just posted a book review at my site that I think is pretty mean. Want to check it out and tell me what you think? I’m trying to improve my reviews, because I don’t think they’re very good, and I’m pretty proud of this one.
Anyway, yes, I do read your site every day. I’ve just been busy with classes, and you guys comment so entertainingly that I couldn’t possibly add anything other than “heh” to the conversation.
Also, I may be an engineer, but I’m really not into the heavy machinery, especially if it’s poop-related.
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 25, 2008, 8:09 pm
Hee! I love the description of peripheral characters in a novel as “NPC’s”, Mrs P.
I’ll leave a comment on the review itself tomorrow. Right now, it’s two hours past Drinkin’ Time on a Friday night and I’m…well, not wrecked, but pleasantly merry and not particularly literary.
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 25, 2008, 9:09 pm
Roadside attractions. How did I get here? I don’t know!
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 25, 2008, 9:11 pm
Worst tattoo in sports. ow did I get here? I don’t know!
Comment from Mrs. Peel
Time: January 25, 2008, 9:14 pm
heh, thanks. Hope you have fun drinking and surfing…I am going to watch Monk and Psych, since my boy is too lame to take me out. (and yes I should be doing homework.)
Comment from porknbean
Time: January 26, 2008, 12:01 am
OH cool…Twistee Treats
Comment from Dawn
Time: January 26, 2008, 4:44 pm
*Therapy alert*
I just found out my father passed away Christmas night from a heart attack. He was 61. I haven’t spoken to him in 10 years. Strangest thing, I was doing a google search on my maiden name and the lone entry pulled up his obituary. According to my uncle’s wife – No one in the family could find my brother or me to tell us the news. I asked her if she thought it was strange that my father died not knowing where either of his children were? My family SUCKS! Sorry for dumping this here. I just thought it fit real nice with the shit theme.
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 26, 2008, 5:00 pm
No, that’s fine, Dawn. Sit right down and unload. I’m struggling with an overall cranial insufficiency of Happy Chemical today myself.
Sorry about your dad. Even estranged family is family.
Christmas night. Huh.
Comment from Dawn
Time: January 26, 2008, 5:31 pm
I’m gonna be ok. This is just the third time I have found out about one of my family dying through a google search. Google, should use me in some kind of advertising. My uncle told me he studied our family geneology. It seems every other generation just picks up and moves. So I come by my estrangement honestly.
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 26, 2008, 6:17 pm
Eh. My definition of a grownup is somebody who has completely forgiven his parents. Maybe “forgiven” is the wrong word. “Gotten over” I guess is closer to the mark.
Too many people spend the rest of their lives endlessly replaying their teenage psychodrama. Not worth it.
Comment from porknbean
Time: January 27, 2008, 1:50 am
How can you not get over them, if they continue the antics they pulled when you lived with them?
I’m sorry that noone had the courtesy to hunt you down a little better Dawn. Family can be the very devil.
Comment from Mrs. Peel
Time: January 27, 2008, 11:34 pm
Weas: check this out.
Personally, if Pepper had opposable thumbs, I’m pretty sure I’d ask her to start earning her keep.
Comment from Mrs. Peel
Time: January 27, 2008, 11:35 pm
I got caught in the spam filter, I think. Just the one link was enough to do it. Alas!
Comment from S. Weasel
Time: January 28, 2008, 7:06 am
Wow. Sure did. You went to the bad place, too, not the holding place.
I’d like to retitle that news story, “Couple screaming for attention get some.”
Comment from Lokki
Time: January 28, 2008, 6:10 pm
You want a serious
Mechanical Hedgerow-remover
Note to Dawn:
I’ve used this on thoughtless F’n relatives several times, and found it quite therapeutic. They don’t like me any better but they sure as hell don’t forget about me.
Comment from Lokki
Time: January 28, 2008, 6:20 pm
By the way, that picture is a Sherman “Rhino” Tank modified for use in Normandy during WWII. It’s purpose, in fact, was removal of hedgerows. This Page has more information including a very cool animation of the Rhino in action eating up an animated but very badass hedgerow. The hedgerows were a serious problem for the Americans as pushing up against the hedgerows would make the tanks show their vulnerable litte tank tummies….which them nasty Nazi’s would then shoot.
AND while you’re there don’t miss the animation of the “Crab Flail” Mine Exploder. There’s an amphibious tank movie too, but those didn’t work as well in real life as they do in the animation.
Write a comment
Beware: more than one link in a comment is apt to earn you a trip to the spam filter, where you will remain -- cold, frightened and alone -- until I remember to clean the trap. But, hey, without Akismet, we'd be up to our asses in...well, ass porn, mostly.<< carry me back to ol' virginny