Fence is finished...
Archive post February 16, 2019…
And the Dogs just HATE it!!! Are we much surprised? I am a bit offended. If those Two Creatures knew what that Tuscan Green metal infrastructure has cost me, they would have a little more respect. Naturally not. They’re Dogs.
We traditionally stroll through the garden of Il Poggiolo after lunch. I to tremble & shake with with anxiety over all the gardening tasks awaiting my robust intervention. Starting soon after I have pounded out this blog-post. Every year I strive to carry the garden to its prime, say by Easter? Thank God, it’s late this year. The Dogs sniff along the perimeter of their confinement. Then they come to me for an explanation. I give them a resounding… Ha!!!
You is totally bored by the fence. Never asks. And when it occasionally trips into a new-worthy topic on the telephone, the subject quickly slides to the weather… or, his bad back.
You and I do wholeheartedly agree: money should be spent ONLY on fun stuff: furniture, rugs, porcelain plates, objets d’art, boar’s heads!!! etc. The rest, the non-fun stuff of fences, new windows, additional fireplaces, and solar f%#*/g panels, should be gratis. Manna from Heaven. A subsidy by the Italian State. Heck, we live in a country decaying from Socialist & Commie ideals. But surely there‘s still some euros handy? Our little infrastructure WAS a make-work initiative. All You & I can hope for is added value to our Tuscan farm-house. Yeah, right.
The guys did an exceptional job. No doubt about it. The two were punctual, steady, precise. Their fence is regular, well-built, Tuscan Green. There are many good tracks and some others pretty darn unsightly. We pray to Mother Nature to kick-in.
Below is a medley of photos on the fence, in the following order, from left to right: acceptable, ugly, charming, and the piece de la resistance, a new fangled pergola. Enjoy!
Garden infrastructure...
Archive post February 7, 2019…
The guys showed up to build our fence. Tuesday morning, 9AM sharp. Three days of work and they’ll still be at it for another two. At least. What delayed the enterprise from the first discussion way back in September 2018 will steal it away again for tomorrow, Friday. A short hiatus skipping through the weekend for the guys to start again fresh and finish… The… Job.
Never thought infrastructure could be so wrought. Nerve-racking. Ups the blood pressure. I had engenuously imagined… hole post cement, hole post cement, hole post cement, string mesh, string mesh, string mesh, done, go home. Nope.
The first shock of my error in favour of ignorance came during a tour of inspection mid-stream Tuesday afternoon. The fruits of You’s and my landscaping labors, lo’ those ten years ago, to create a high & mighty privacy barrier from the greater Codiponte community at large… we’re surrounded, you know… had been bushwhacked… cleanly & efficiently accomplished, as it was… for proper elbow room to lay the fencing. Holy Mother of… one just cannot do, apparently, all the measuring, balancing, digging, digging, digging, cementing for posting, posting, posting an army of Tuscan green metal stakes from hither of our house, il Poggiolo, to the yonder of the legnaia. I felt faint. Nauseous. Had to brace myself by grabbing a cypress for support. I remained mute. Tried to smile. Always helps to cover the facial crinkle of doubt and fear. Big Time. What is this going to cost me?
The second bit of stomach wrenching misunderstanding came yesterday when the Chief Guy… truly and honestly a nobleman of gardening & agricultural expertise… explained that, in order in insure the stakes stay staked, angled supports… longer stakes, naturally, and if any of you have ever studied Geometry, a deplorable yet, fundamental area of knowledge, you’d instantly see the reason why… have to go in between that army. What? Really? What is this going to cost me? I wanted my Mommy. I breathed instead. Then resorted to God. Near & dear Human Beings were not so kindly disposed.
The third item was: I kindly sent an FYI to Dr. You a focused medley of photos to show him the fence work in progress. Obliquely asking for Moral Support too. No. A firestorm. A stun and awe firestorm. Telephone calls. Many, many telephone calls. From You’s hospital. HE HATED THE FENCE!!! Oh? It’s all cemented. Spostali in fretta prima che si asciughi il cemento! Too late. Set forever. I do not know nor do I care to ever know what the man was thinking, conjuring up in his funny little & bumpy princely doctor’s head but, to think the fence would be artfully slipped in between those ghastly prickly plants, for instance, until Kingdom Come… or would it be Came?… with those funny little orange berries on them was… well… let me see? What would it be? Oh, yes… INSANE!!! Costly too. All I could do was hang-up. The network coverage was silent for the next 24. That stunt saved me from posing The Question… What is this going to cost me?
Fourthly, and most of this will have to wait until Monday, is for the guys to string the Tuscan green wire mesh… so cleverly color co-ordinated with that of the stakes… from stake to stake to stake, and then, like a violin’s strings, tighten the entire length until it cries Uncle!!! I will resort to infrastructure rehab from pro-secco abuse. What is this going to cost me? will fade into and disappear into my drunken stupor. I hope.
P.S. The Dog are in for a Big Surprise. More pro-secco, please?
Dog Fence prep...
Archive post October 3, 2018…
I think I bit off too much to chew. It IS my fault. No denying it. I wanted a house with a garden. Numero Uno of House Prerequisites from when it was compiled back in 2005. There were only 2 items: a garden and bedrooms for guests. Both checked off after 4 years and once il Poggiolo was found and bought. 2009. Awesome year. Gosh! Nearly 10 years of second-home ownership. What would You say to that? Let’s sell and move to France? Not just yet. Je ne suis pas prêt. Hopefully, not that I’ve gotten too old. I am. Fatter too. Both show. They are intertwined, damn-it. Just cannot handle the thrice-yearly garden assaults. Cut & burn, mostly. No time to piecemeal it either, say, every Saturday AM.
Would be nice to have a gardener come. A full-fledged one. Guys only. Women, apparently, don’t do those kinds of tasks here in the Lunigiana. Nor do the guys, really, if we were are not talking about olives trees, vineyards or, orti… vegetable gardens. All else is out-of-the-question. A neighbor has a lawn-service which comes about twice a year from the Versilia, over by that Med-Sea. I don’t really know the people. They live year-round, like the lawn-service, over at the Med-Sea, keeping the Codiponte family home next to the scuzzy bar in pristine condition for the Sagra Appearance on the first weekend of September. However, their garden is no big beans. It is a small, ornamental slip of grass with a mock-well done up in reinforced cement and faced in stone with a cute little roof in terracotta… and a dangling copper bucket!!!… a couple of scrawny trees… a weeping willow and a plum tree… plus some tuffs of pampas grass. You HATES pampas grass. I kind of like it. Reminds me of that tacky 70’s deco-scheme of spray painting the pampas fronds da-glo fuschia and planting them in some overly decorated Mexican urn. At the front door. Or in the LR. I think the lawn-service would freak, if they saw what all needs tackling at il Poggiolo. Anyway, I lost their card. Too much trouble to hunt on the Internet. And a bit difficult to get folk to come to Codiponte. Pool and lawn services and repairmen for appliances.
Found out by a vicarious route that our painter’s son would/could do yard work. But, when I tried to fix an appointment, the painter said his son preferred working as a painter. With his dad. Ah, Italy. The country invented… Like father, like son. In other countries it is called nepotism, though low-grade for our painter’s kid. Jobs are hard to find here so, bumping into one at the dinner table at home beats the anxiety & stress of il Job Hunting in the outside World.
About all I can scare up are a couple of folk to do odd & ends: the Real Nice Lady below us comes and consults on roses… a perennial disaster… and a Real Nice Man from the other side of the village comes to prune fruit and olive trees… less of a disaster and more an art.
The heavy garden attacks are my responsibility. Though physically taxing, cumbersome of effort and time and stamina, I like doing most of it myself. I ably provide plenty of fodder for You for his usual tours of the garden before sitting down to a home-cooked meal when, between bites, I am furnished with a running synopsis of what he found lacking with my labors.
All this verbiage is about the soon to-be-installed Dog Fence. I have A Mission!!! But, let me say right off the bat… I expect a standing ovation from the Codiponte community-at-large for this bit of domestic infrastructure. They have made my life an inferno, thanks to the appearance of our adored Weimaraner puppy. His exuberance has known no bounds. It will and in about 5 days time when he runs smack into the Tuscan green wire fencing around the entire perimeter of il Poggiolo. Oh, boy… what fun.
I am in full swing with the Dog Fence prep. Major undertaking. Big push. 2 fellows are waiting for a High Sign that I have clipped and pruned and cleared a narrow swath past, sometimes in between and around all the shrubbery You and I have planted from 2009 onwards. My handy-work relies upon a battery-operated hedge clipper, cesoie… or, sheers, pruning scissors, rakes and a wheelbarrow. I am almost there. Then, watch out Puppy!