Obituary for Isabel

Ottawa:

ELLIOTT, Marion Isabel (nee McDermid) After a brief stay in hospital, Ottawa, on Wednesday, October 21, 2009, at the age of 84. Beloved wife of the late Donald. Loving mother of Jean Marengere (Yvon), and John Elliott ( Norma). She will be lovingly remembered by grandchildren Shauna, Tarryn, and Nathan; and step-grandchildren Marcus Joseph, Chantalle Marengere, and Phillipp Marengere (Elizabeth). Survived by sisters Beverley Devine and Grace Teske; predeceased by sisters Eileen McKay, Helen Murray; brothers Keith and Kenneth McDermid. Friends may visit at the Central Chapel of Hulse, Playfair & McGarry, 315 McLeod Street, (at O'Connor) Ottawa, from 2-4 pm and 7-9 pm Friday, October 23. The Funeral Service will be held in the Chapel on Saturday, October 24 at 11 am. Contributions in Isabel's memory may be directed to the Ottawa Heart Institute.

Sadness rains

Ottawa:

Isabel on her 84th birthday, March 2009

The funeral for Isabel Elliott will be held at Playfair and McGarry, 315 McLeod Street, Ottawa at 11 a.m. on Saturday, October 24th.

Immediately after the service, guests are invited to join us in the reception room for a bite to eat. Those who wish may accompany the family to the burial at Capital Memorial Gardens. 

Today the skies are heavy in sympathy with our hearts.

We are sad

Ottawa:

John's mom, Isabel Elliott, died this morning. We were at the hospital nearly all night, arriving home around 5am. She had pneumonia (the old person's friend, they tell me) and breathing was very difficult for her. I (daughter-in-law) suggested that it might be a kindness to find a way to make her last hours easier. The doctors agreed, and shortly after that she was put on a ventilator. She must have known what was ahead so she called me over and told me what hymns she wanted sung at her funeral. My brain kicked into overdrive and for the first time in a long time, I remembered every word she told me. 

Before the doctors arrived, we hugged and kissed her, exchanged loving words, and then it was time. We had to leave the room and when we were allowed back in, we could no longer talk to her. Nevertheless, we stayed for hours. John and I, John's sister and her husband. We chatted quietly, or as quietly as some people know how to chat. 

The four of us left for home around 4:30. We were asleep before our heads hit the pillow.

The phone woke us around 6am. Isabel had left the building. 

I wrote down the hymns Isabel had said she wanted. 

We are sad. We are busy. I'll write more later.

Red shag carpet project - Phase I

Hillgrade:

As most of you know by now, we're slowly fixing up an old house in Newfoundland. It was built, we think, sometime around 1875, but nobody is sure. Could be older. Given the state the shores [Upright Post supporting a house above ground level] were in when we raised the house, I'd say so.

  Red shag in living room circa 2007
Anyhow, we finally took the bull by the horns this week and tore up the red shag carpet that was in the living room and on the stairs and along the upstairs hallway. Actually, the upstairs hallway still has it, but the rest is gone. Took it to the dump this morning in the pouring rain. Fellow at the dump said that there's no doubt we're from Ontario because no self-respecting Newfie could be caught dead at the dump when it's this wet. He's probably right.

But I'm getting ahead of myself.

We had um'd and ah'd about taking up this carpet since we bought the place three years ago. Not that we didn't want it up. Heck, it probably harboured life forms that nobody in their right minds would want living with them. But we had on several occasions pulled up a corner here, a loose bit there, just to see what was underneath. All we saw was plywood, pressboard, odds and sods of other kinds of wood filling in the gaps, and scraps of canvas peeking out here and there. Neighbours told us to expect newspaper in places as well. (We did find newspaper in the walls when we got to them a couple years later). So we knew it would be dog's breakfast once we started. And thing is, once you start, it's hard to stop since one disaster leads to another.

But, curiousity got the better of us yesterday. And we debated the best way to proceed. We decided to pull up just one section and see what we were faced with underneath. If it was too awful, we'd put the plywood/carpet, etc. back again and forget about it until we felt stronger in a year or two.

We decided to start near the kitchen door in what would have originally been part of the central hallway. That carpet bit was easy since it was a separate piece that was just laid down. Two nails held it in place. Easy peasy. Underneath was three pieces of plywood, held down by mostly nails, but also enough rusty screws to give us trouble. And not only were they rusty, but they were bent. Watching them come out of the wood was like watching a flower emerge from the ground looking for the sun. Round and round the head went.


Floor boards as uncovered Aug 2009Under the plywood, once we swept up the dust of the last 50 years was something painted that I thought was floor boards because there were grooves like wide old boards. I was getting excited, but it turned out to be just painted wall paneling. Up that came.

Next was a layer of canvas - faded, worn, brittle and nasty. Up that came. And lo and behold, beneath that was wood. Wide wood boards. Worn down in the centre by many footsteps. Discoloured in spots, shiny in spots. In other words. Once we vacuumed and swept, they looked very nice. I could live with them like that if I had to. Might want to sand down the old knots that have risen up like pimples to the surface -- or rather that the boards have worn down around the knots.

And so Phase I was complete. We knew what to expect underneath, or at least what to hope for.


  Living room with canvas floor (post chimney removal)We felt so encouraged, we figured we could take the carpet up from the rest of the living room floor. This section had previously been a room separate from the hallway where we had excavated earlier and underneath the carpet here we found old canvas. See picture at right. Green wavy pattern with yellow flowers. Worn and cracked in places, but we can live with it until we're ready to excavate further. I'm sure I've walked over canvas like that many times growing up. Might even have watched my mother pull a mop over something very similar.

We did find a mess under the carpet around where the chimney used to be. There was no canvas there and the plywood was quite black. Figured we'd better get rid of that asap since who knows what was on it. Probably just encrusted soot, but we didn't take any chances and put on masks to take it up and throw it out in the trailer.

Phase II will come later. We'll work on a section at a time as we feel the urge.


Pink, white and green stepsThis morning, before heading to the dump, we decided to uncover the stairs. The carpet was held to the stairs by rods. The rods are held to the stairs by screw eyes that had been painted so many times they're part of the stairs. No way they we were going to get those off in a hurry. So we had to cut the carpet off. Took forever.

But the hard work was all worth it because under the carpet, the stairs are crudely painted in the colours of the old Newfoundland flag - pink, white and green. I love it. And I'm so tempted just to leave it like that. Maybe I should tidy up the edges but maybe not. What do you think? Let me know.

And so, the shagging carpet, er I mean the red shag carpet is no more. It's soaking up rain in the dump as I write. And the living room actually has a lot more light than before. Shows off the paint job we did on the walls a week or two ago.

Once we expose the floor boards, we'll see what we'll do with them. John is tending to want to leave them bare, maybe just some verethane. I'm leaning towards painting them and making a canvas rug for the living room (not anytime soon, needless to say).

Oh, and check out the cushions on the couch. I've been knitting and crocheting since we got here and these two cushion covers are the result. Starting on a lap quilt next. With fish on it.

And so it goes.

Sweet William is bleeding?

Hillgrade:

Our garden is only a little less of a mess than it was last year. In the fall before leaving, I planted some bulbs - tulips and daffodils and anything else that was interesting and available at the local hardware store. Neighbours tell us that they enjoyed the display of colour in the spring so I guess something worked. One thing for sure. I'll have to get a volunteer to deadhead the tulips next spring if we're not here. We found out what happens when you don't. They form seed pods. Strange things. I didn't believe it when I saw it and thought they were mummified tulips blooms. I didn't even know tulips produced seed pods. I thought they grew only from bulbs. Of course, Ottawa is not the place to find tulip seeds since the bulbs are whipped out of the ground before the blooms have even fallen. I understand that one can plant the seeds but then it takes about seven years to produce anything resembling a tulip. I'll pass. I cut the pods and put them in a dry vase where they very quickly deteriorated to a white, powdery rotten mass. Guess I'll throw them out and see if the birds like them.

The rest of the garden was pretty much fence-to-fence weeds. And tall. Fortunately, most of them were mature and were easy to pull out, leaving bare ground. I pulled the last of these yesterday. (And got stung by the tiniest nettle I've ever seen. A baby. Barely as big as the tip of the Bluenose on a dime.)

The Mother-of-Thyme that I planted in the fall hasn't died, but it hasn't prospered either. Still five sad mounds, although they did flower nicely. It may be because they're in the shade most of the day and most sources recommend full sun. However, if they survived a winter in Hillgrade, they are most likely hardy enough to withstand anything. I might just have to fill in with some more plants.

On one side of the house is a hill, okay a rise. A rocky rise. Probably eight to ten feet above the level of the rest of the garden. It's covered mostly with grasses, coltsfoot, sheep sorrel, some purple clover, ladies mantle and moss. The lady who lived here before used the outcroppings of rock to clean her paint brush so we have blue and pink and purple hued rocks between the wildflowers. Silas, the neighbour's cat, likes to view the world from this hill.

There is also a growing patch of Snow on the Mountain. I really don't want it and will have to see if I can at least contain it. But pulling it up will be tricky since I don't want to lose whatever bit of soil there is.

Growing among the Snow on the Mountain are Sweet Williams. Lots of Sweet Williams. Pink. White. Deep Pink, and multi-hued Sweet Williams. So many that they were spilling into the area that we want to use for a walkway. I hesitated for days but then decided it was best to just get it over with and I picked the ones that needed to be gone so that John could mow the area. I ended up with two large bouquets of Sweet Williams, one on the kitchen table and one in the window near the stove, for the enjoyment of all who passed.

We then noticed droplets of water on the table near the bouquet. Wiped them up and wondered if we'd been messy eaters the previous night at dinner. By nightfall, there were more drops of water on the table. Just under the perimeter of the bouquet on one side.

That was nearly two weeks ago. The bouquets are still looking wonderful (have changed the water only twice in that time) and we are still seeing drops of water on the table. A day or two ago we were finally able to find water on the plant just above the drops on the table. And again this morning.

So are the Sweet Williams crying or bleeding?

Here are a few more photos: 

Yellow Loosestrife growing up against the woodshed; 

Yarrow (as a child we called this Dead Man's Flower)

Monkshood which hasn't yet flowered and which I think might be poison if we were to serve it for breakfast.

Adventures in Iceberg Alley

Hillgrade:

Okay, so we didn't exactly have an adventure, at least not by dictionary standards, but I thought it was a snappy title.

What does anyone do when they get close to Twillingate? They go see icebergs, that's that. There are so many bergs here now that locals can't remember when they had more at the same time. And that brings the tourists. They tell me that the TCH up to Twillingate the Sunday before last was bumper to bumper.

So we trailed up to Durrell (which is the best place to see the ice) last week, and again this week. Icebergs are living, breathing things, ever changing, every creaking and groaning, rolling and splitting.

Here are some pictures showing the view last week (on the left) and this week (on the right). I didn't exactly line up the lens this week, but you'll forgive me. My intentions were good.

Views of Durrell bergs on July 16 (left) and July 21 (right)

And two more, zoomed in:

The two pics below show a berg which disintegrated before our eyes. Poof! I managed to capture the final cloud of ice. 

Berg before it exploded

What's left of the berg except some splash

Pic below shows a berg-y bit shaped like a whale, or a dolphin, depending on your preference.

Tonight we're going into Twillingate to see the arrival of Captain Bob Bartlett's ship The Bowdoin, as part of Celebrating Bartlett 2009 , a province-wide celebration of 100 years since Bartlett made his first Arctic expedition. I have to say I feel a special kinship, having grown up in Brigus, Bartlett's birthplace, and knowing his family personally. 

So, expect another blog post tomorrow, or as soon as I can get myself organized. It's cold here, so it's a good time for doing stuff like blogging and reading and taking short, very short, walks. Frost predicted for tonight. Good thing I brought my hat and gloves. Odd thing is that I don't resent the weather here, but if it were to be this cold in Ottawa, I'd be furious. (At whom I have no idea!)

On the Rock Again

Hillgrade:

So. Here we are. Back in Newfoundland. Back in Hillgrade. A little (okay, a lot) late getting here this year due to having stuff that just wouldn't go away at home (the other home). But we made it. Drove over 2300 miles in three days, had an overnight boat trip thrown in for good measure, and we finally put our key in the door here on Wednesday afternoon, July 15th.

Aunt Edith's 90th birthday party

Three days later, we were off again, this time to Corner Brook for the celebration of my Aunt Edith's 90th birthday on Sunday. It was difficult deciding whether to beg off due to extreme fatigue (wouldn't have been a word of a lie) or to just suck it up and go, add another 700 km to the total. I called my Aunt Mary where we would be staying and she was looking forward to us coming. I just didn't have the heart to tell her we were too tired to drive all the way out there and back... so we went. I did the driving this time, giving poor John a much needed break.

On the way out, we came upon a car that had just hit a moose. The poor thing was lying at the side of the highway as though he had just lain down for a nap. His legs were in strange positions and I hope the RCMP officer who was at the scene had already put him out of his misery if he hadn't been killed outright. The people in the car were all fine. Milling about and moaning about their fender which was dragging on the ground.

I wish Newfoundland would do what New Brunswick has and erect fences along the highway to keep moose and other large animals from crossing. It would cost some money but lives (human, even) would be saved. That is usually enough to get people moving since saving lives of moose is not on anyone's agenda here. The poor animals are cursed left and right, but you don't hear anyone complaining when they get a bit of moose for their freezer.

As I was saying to John the other day, I don't remember wildlife playing such a large part in Newfoundland life when I was growing up. Moose were there, for sure, but not in the current numbers. [Note: Four moose were introduced into Newfoundland from New Brunswick in 1904. By 1930 the numbers had increased enough to allow a hunting season to happen.] 

I also don't remember any issues about bears. People go camping here now and are just as likely to come upon a bear as see a trout jump in the stream. Come to think of it, probably more likely, since the streams are getting fished out. And squirrels. Never had them growing up as well. Ditto for coyotes. I mean really. Coyotes are desert creatures, aren't they? Or have I just seen too many Wile E Coyote cartoons?

My aunt Edith had a lovely birthday party. Didn't get a chance to take any pictures except one of her. I used the flash which I think startled her and I thought she was going to say something to me about blinding an old lady. She didn't but it threw me enough that I put the camera down and forgot about it until it was too late and everyone had gone home.

Nice to see so many cousins and relatives of all descriptions. My son should come to Nfld with me sometime. He thinks his family consists of just me and him. (Gosh, can you tell I've been talking like a Newfoundlander for a week!) Ha.

Coast of Bays passage

Hillgrade:

We just got back from a few days on the south coast -- should that be capitalized? -- and it was worth every minute of the l-o-o-o-n-g drive.

Left here on Friday morning around 9:30. Arrived at Southern Port Hotel in Harbour Breton sometime about 2pm, I think. John immediately had his nap. I went off exploring and to buy a hair brush after discovering I'd not packed mine.

What a gorgeous place. I had heard the south coast was beautiful, but I wasn't prepared for it to be THIS beautiful. It helped that the sky had not a cloud and the temps were in the high 20s. I started oohing and aahing right at the outset and never stopped until we got back on the highway yesterday afternoon to come home. And even from the road there were vistas that took my breath away.

As I said, we started out in Harbour Breton. Took a million snaps there. Went to a play in the evening (it was the last night; talk about lucky) at the Elliott Premises. It was grand fun and a bit of a challenge to tune our ear to the local accent. The actors were all young people and it was wonderful to see them involved in a venture like this. The stage had its limitations but they did a wonderful job and overcame them all. We had lots of laughs and thoroughly enjoyed ourselves.

Next day it was foggy, which is apparently the norm in Hr. Breton, so they say. However, we went off to Deadman's Cove and would have walked the trail (2.5 hrs round trip) but my knee was giving me a lot of trouble so thought we'd better not risk it. We would have taken the trail up Gun Hill, too, if it hadn't been for my darn knee. Instead we took more snaps.

Hermitage - not what I expected. Thought it would be bigger, and (I hate to say it) prettier. Getting hungry. Went on to Sandyville. Saw a place that advertised convenience. Door was locked. Another place advertising convenience was also dark as a dungeon. On to Pass Island but it was very foggy and no stores loomed up there at all. So back to Hermitage and noticed that all the places in that town were closed too. Gas bar, included. Asked a lady near the Anglican church where we could buy groceries and she said Crewe's. So off we went and found it closed. Hmm. Went up to the door where a man was waiting and with sign language (his) and silly gestures (mine) found out the place didn't open until 1pm. Ah. The owners have to go for their dinner. Silly me.

We waited a bit and a lot of cars started arriving. Had to line up to get into the store which had a front door right out of the 1850's. Wanted to buy one of those little cans of potato salad we used to get years ago. This store looked like it ought to have it. But no. Considered buying a can of Vienna sausage just for old time's sake. Thought of the Maple Leaf listeriosis thing going on. Instead bought granola bars, fruit cups and cheese. Ate in the car.

The ferry to Galtois (pronounced Galtis) and McCallum wasn't at the dock when we were in Hermitage. If it had been, I would have been sorely tempted to make the trip. We were told it costs only $1 if you're over 65 and $1.50 if you're not. However, we didn't want to wait for it and moved on. Next time. (Update: See Note at bottom)

As we were leaving Hermitage, we noticed a sign to Furbey's Cove. Not on the map. Let's see what's out there. We were not disappointed. Furbey's Cove is the original name of a village from which the occupants were resettled back in the 60's. And it is now being re-settled by the daughters and sons of those who had been forced to leave. We spoke to a man who was originally from Galtois who filled us in on all the comings and goings. He said his missus had gone berry picking on the highway and he had some time on his hands. 

Headed out for Pool's Cove. Highway pavement was red all the way. Sign of something special at the other end? 

For sure. The place is extraordinarily beautiful. Spent a lot of time there, walking the streets with the camera. The fog lifted the minute we entered the town and stayed gone the whole time.

Fog rejoined us as we headed for Belleoram and lifted a little when we got there. Another georgeous little town. First things first and found a washroom at a little restaurant. Told the fellow we'd be back for supper. Turned out that the menu had only meat, so I hope he didn't wait up for us.

The rest of that little section along the Fortune Bay North shore -- St. Jacques, English Harbour West, Mose Ambrose, Boxey, Wreck Cove and Coomb's Cove (photo at left) -- was rather difficult to appreciate, it was that foggy. We had heard there were two B&B's at Coomb's cove but couldn't find either. Good thing we had already reserved a spot at St. Alban's for the night or we might have been sleeping with the fishes.

The drive from the north shore of Fortune Bay to the top of Bay d'Espoir is long when you're tired and hungry. We arrived at St. Albans Inn (may or may not still exist - 2023) just after their dining room had closed and they offered to make us a bowl of soup and a sandwich. John and I had both been jonesing for pizza all afternoon and instead headed off to the only take-out in town, mouths watering for veggie pizza. Turned out they had only pepperoni, and since it comes pre-made, it would have been hard to take the pepperoni off of it. Sigh. So we found another grocery store and bought some peanut butter, sandwich spread (I did finally get something I haven't eaten since I was a kid), bread and fig newtons. Back to the hotel for supper on the bed, and Olympics on the TV.

Sunday, up and out reasonably early. Off to see anything we'd missed the previous two days. So we roamed about the Bay d'Espoir area. Tried to get up to the hydroelectric installation but were stymied at every turn. Two long off-road expeditions (very narrow; very bumpy) were enough for us (and the car) and we gave up. Maybe next time we can pre-arrange a tour of the place, if they still do that in these days of terrorism and all.

We ate lunch at a very nice park down by the water in Milltown. Guess what we ate? If you didn't guess peanut butter and jam sandwiches, fruit cup and wet cheese (it had fallen into the watery ice in the cooler), you're not thinking hard enough.

I had to go pee in the woods and set off to find a secluded spot. Nearly did myself in by straddling an ant hill, but noticed the buggers crawling over my shoes just at the last minute. Nearly killed myself coming out of there. Had to grab on to alder branches to keep from tumbling out onto the path. I walked back via a very empty beach, and found lots of beach glass - blue included. Turned out that John had gotten worried when I didn't return and had set out to find me. Not sure how we missed each other since I was in full view on the beach and he was walking along the road just by it.

There was a heritage home as part of the park. It had been built there originally, moved in 1900-something to another location, and then moved back to its original site in the last few years. There was a large sign and guess who the movers were. You got it: the same crew who lifted our house - Robert Coates from Glenwood (except they forgot the 'e' in Coates on the sign).

And that was about the end of our travels. We hit the road (Route 360) to head home. 45 km from the Trans Canada Highway, we stopped to pick blueberries. There had been a forest fire there some years ago and the area had grown over with lots of blueberries, as is often the case. John is not a happy picker so he napped in the car while I picked to my heart's delight. The temperature was about 30 degrees so I wasn't at it long. There are some things that even I can't do in heat like that. But I did get enough for a dessert that I'm making for tonight when Jo and Simon come over.

The whole time I was down on the south coast, I had to keep pinching myself. If someone had picked me up and put me down in China, I couldn't have been any more thrilled. I grew up in Newfoundland and had never been south of Grand Falls. Ever. Unless you count Buchans. There was just no road at that time to the south coast. It was by boat or not at all. So just twisting my mind around the fact that I had been there was mind-bending in itself. To find that it was so heart-breakingly beautiful was icing on the cake.

I actually started taking notes for poems during this trip and I haven't done that in a few months. I should go there more often.

Note: Update April 2023: The adult fare for ferry from Hermitage to Galtois is now $2. From Galtois to McCallum: $6.25. From McCallum back to Hermitage: $6.25. Even if you stay in Galtois or McCallum in between trips. All around the circle. Pretty cheap little jaunt. You leave your car in Hermitage so no gas costs. 

Okay. So where were we?

Hillgrade:

It's taken me over a month to get back to business. I just had to. Couldn't take any more of the nagging.

And I couldn't have picked a better time to write. I spilled my tea into my keyboard this morning and now I have no right arrow key. Who knew I used that darn key so much! And what's more, John tells me that you can no longer just take off a key-cap and clean the contact. Now you have to take the back off the keyboard (unplugging it first, natch) and clean the inside of the business. Maybe later.

So. Where were we? Oh yes, working on the house. Let's see. When we last chatted, the foundation and the pony wall had been finished and the house lifters had departed. The rest was going to be up to us. Many hours and dollars later, we are closing in on completing the goals we set for ourselves this summer. Several milestones have been achieved and celebrated.

Crawlspace windows. Check. Nothing fancy, but they work and do the job they were installed to do - let light in and keep rain out.

Crawlspace door. Check. Double check, since John actually built two doors. An inner door which is thick (hollow) and sturdy; an outer door which is 1/2 inch plywood to prevent the inner door from being exposed to the wind. The inner door has a padlock system. The outer door has just a push latch for now.

Crawlspace window frames. Check. And nice frames they are, with drip caps and properly slanting windowsills.

Painting the pony wall. Check. We decided on red. Not sure why now except that we knew we didn't want the battleship grey that everyone else here uses on their foundations. This colour choice led us into a discussion of what colour we should eventually paint the house. We are leaning towards Dory Buff (a heritage colour) with red doors, drip caps and bridge surfaces, and white for the window frames and bridge railings. We'll see.

Landscaping. Semi-check. We've had five loads of shale dumped around the place, and shovelled and wheelbarrowed most of it ourselves. A neighbour found out we were doing this manually and came racing over to say that he has a tractor and would be happy to push the stuff around for us. Didn't have to ask us twice.
One of our challenges is that the dirt that was dug up from around the house when the foundation was poured is rather puggy. We did not want it put back around the house since it holds water so well and we are trying to solve wetness problems, not re-create them. So we piled that stuff up away from the house and replaced it with the shale. We have since re-distributed the puggy stuff (some of it was actually very good soil) over the top of the shale in order to grow whatever it is we'll grow. One more pile remains to be raked. Not urgent.

One of the days when we were digging & lugging dirt, we got to thinking that a patch of stinging nettles and old damson trees at the right side of our backyard (as viewed from the road) would make a great car park. But the problem was that our fence was inside that patch. Time to make inquiries. Turned out that the land is ours. We still don't know why the fence was where it was, and there was some talk in the cove about who owned the damsen trees that had gone to ruin among the nettles. It was finally decided that the land belongs to the house we're in so it's ours and was included in the sale. This was confirmed by the original owner once we got in touch with him. So. We now have a place off-street to part the car and the trailer. Check out the pile of shale that is about to bury the nettles (right-hand picture above). We had a second one after that. And now we have almost too much, but I guess it will settle.
Of course everything is still pretty rough. I've been keeping aside large rocks as we came across them. They'll come in handy for building a rock garden, or steps up the side of our hill in the back yard, or as a path to my vegetable garden. No shortage of them, that's for sure. And to think we have to pay big bucks for rocks like this in Ottawa. Would make ya weep.

Bridges. John has built a great bridge on the road side for our back door (picture at left). He even built a little triangular step down for it. From that step, we can go to the road, or to the side garden. The road-side edge of that step will be in line with the fence (when it goes up) and we'll put the gate I (okay, we) built last year right there so that when you step from the road, you'll open the gate right on to this step. Neat, eh?

The side bridge (right) is semi-done, too. It's bigger than the original one, which was rotted pretty badly. We saved the railings though because they were built by the former owner and it would be great to preserve his work. I like the railings a lot. How we'll use them, we still have not decided. In one of the pictures you can see that we've laid a section of railing on the back bridge. This was so that Mr. Dyke could see it when he came to visit last week. More on that later. 

Update 2023: We never did use the original railing after noticing how badly it had rotted in places. In face, that bridge has no railing at all still.


Wood stove. Check. We now have a new wood-stove in the kitchen. I might have mentioned that we had to get rid of the old kitchen wood stove because it was not in good shape and would have needed an overhaul to make it safe. Not sure that it ever could have been restored to its original grandeur. So we purchased a Drolet Legend through Chester Dawe's in Gander. It burns very well and turns the kitchen into a sauna. We will have to put a hole with a fan in the wall to the living room in order to draw the heat into that room. We'll also put a grill in the ceiling in order to let the heat rise into the upper bedrooms.
Since we had to take down the two chimneys, John installed a prefab chimney for the kitchen stove, taking it through the ceiling, through the upstairs room (called the Chimney Room) and through the roof. Enough heat rises around that chimney into the bedroom above that we don't have to install a grill to do the job.

Furnace. While the house was being lifted, the furnace had been dismantled and the pieces stored in the shed. Then we called the furnace man to come and re-install it, adjusting here and there to accommodate the new beams that are now under the house. Since the furnace chimney was a casualty of the lift, we were thinking of installing a prefab on the outside for the furnace. But the furnace man mentioned a power vent. After some research, we opted for this and now we have just a little box on the outer wall near where the furnace is mounted underneath the floor. We have not had to run our furnace yet (thanks to a scorching July and a still not too cool August) but are not anticipating any problems. It should apparently run even quieter than before now that it's fixed and not sitting on a rock.

Repair of outer walls and clapboard. Check. Because much of our lower walls on the north and north-west walls of the house had rotted, we had to tear away a large portion of the clapboard. The underlying matched lumber (tongue-in-groove) had also seen better days and needed attention. This week John spent repairing the board walls and putting on new clapboard as required. He put a new trim board (water table) all around the house, hoping that when he met up with the first piece that it would be lined up. As many problems as he had in getting it on, when he did join up, it was only about 1/2 inch out. Pretty darn good, I'd say. We don't have any pictures yet of the final job because he says, "it's not finished." He still has to address the corner trim.

That about covers it, I think. It's been a long month. With all the digging and wheelbarrowing (especially downhill) I wrecked my left knee. Haven't been able to do much since about the 15th. Luckily, we had lots of help. Boyce Sansome showed up with his shovel to help move dirt. As I mentioned above, Clayton Sansome brought along his tractor. Twice. Transporting it up and down the hill on a flatbed trailer each time. Ivan Sansome and his son Michael who was just here for a visit came over and moved the rest of the dirt from the road-side of the house. Since they were using our shovels, we could only watch. What a great place. What great neighbours. Kevin Butt has been down to help repair the roof when the chimney was installed, to install clapboard and to help with just about every other job that needed doing.

Since my knee didn't allow me to go berry picking, Boyce even brought us down a bag of bakeapples which he picked himself. I tell ya, it doesn't get any better than this. John remarked the other day that we've lived on our street in Ottawa since 1998 and we still know only a few neighbours. Here we know everyone and they know us. And here 'knowing' = 'helping' = 'sharing' = 'genuine caring'. Remind me again of why we're going back to Ottawa? Sometimes I wonder why.

Of course, if John had his way, we'd be staying here. For good. Sometimes, I think I should just let him have his way.

House-lifting pics

Hillgrade: 

I thought you might enjoy seeing a few of the pictures of the men working on the house towards the end. They are taking the rails out from under the house in the first picture.

In case you don't know, the rails (the kind used by trains) are inserted under the house just under the sill, from front to back (or whichever way is most convenient). Jacks are then mounted under the rails and the house is jacked up slowly, inch by inch, from front to back, rail to rail. Very slow painstaking work. Simultaneously, 4x4s (or 6x6s? or old railway ties?) are inserted under the house as cribs and will eventually take the weight of the lift. When this is achieved, the rails and jacks are removed. This video will give you some idea what the jacking process and cribs look like in Newfoundland. Watch video here.

Robert Coates, the boss man, is shown left. What a sweetie. Never grumpy. Never has an off day. The minute he opens his mouth to speak, there's a smile chasing every word. As John says, the mark of a man who loves what he does.

The third picture (above, right) shows just what brute strength is required to lift a house. Every man on the crew was as strong as two ox.

And finally another view under the house. You see the remains of one of the cribs on the right. We don't get to keep that wood. It gets loaded back on their truck for the next move/lift someplace else. I'm told there's a house move today in Twillingate. We might go up and have a look.

Final result was that our house was lifted 22" on the front, and 38" on the back. We no longer have to ski from the front door back to the kitchen. Yay.

You might have been thinking this post is out of sync since the last post reported that we were back in the house with the lift behind us and concrete foundation under us. In truth, this post was made the same day. I should have just done it first so it at least would not look like we were doing a second lift. Ha.

We're in!

Hillgrade:

I have been chastised by a few people for not keeping up to date here. And I'll have to take my lumps because I have been negligent.

We're in the house. Actually living here. Sort of. Here's a picture of what the house looks like now with the foundation finished. In the first picture, the black stuff below the plywood of the knee wall is tar, for waterproofing. In the second picture, the white stuff with elephants on it is a waterproofing membrane. The red stuff is a tape that joins the membrane pieces. And now you know just about all I know about foundations and waterproofing.

When we get to it, the ground level will come up to the red tape. We'll slope the soil away from the house in front (sea side) and the garden showing will also have a slope towards the sea. Just how important this is was brought home to us a few days ago. We had the biggest rain storm anyone in these parts can ever remember. Not to mention the thunder and lightening. We had just gone to bed and I was sure we would all be washed out to sea. In the morning, there was a lake at the back of our house, still forming and draining from run-off from the bog across the road. It's imperative that we find a way to divert this water. Our foundation might be waterproof, but it can't be good to have this much moisture near a building. 

So, what's it like? I have nothing but good to say about this house lifting business. For starters, we have a better view. We can see the ocean from the downstairs windows over the big old rock in the side yard. Previously had to climb up on the rock to do that. The view from the upstairs windows is glorious.

The view I like best though is the one from the kitchen window. Previously we looked up at the road, feeling rather like moles. Now, we can sit at the kitchen table, look directly out at the road and see who's coming and going in good Newfoundland style. Great spot for a cup of tea.

And our floors are level -- well as much as floors in a 130-year-old house can be level. No longer do we almost fall down if we turn suddenly in the kitchen. Balance issues have gone the way of the codfish. People who've come in say the place has lost some of its charm and quirkiness. Perhaps. But I can live with it.

One of the last tasks the house-lifters did was to replace the sills on the back addition of the house. They were rotted through. It was his opinion that if we'd left this job even one more year, we might not have had much to save.

The only downside of it all is that the carpenter ants that lived in the old sills now have to find a new home. They have been roaming around outside like lost souls -- very big lost souls at that. I've never seen ants so big in my life. Some of them are at least an inch long. Hopefully they'll go across the street to the old general store that is slowly rotting from the ground up.

So now the real work begins. We haven't stopped much since we moved back in. The first task was to tidy up the yard a bit. Create a few piles - wood that we'll keep to burn, wood that the neighbour wants to burn, stuff to take to the dump. Then we moved the furnace components out of the shed to under the house in order to make room for the firewood pieces that were already short. We made another pile of wood that we'll have to cut later. It's the biggest pile.

John spent some time levelling off the soil under the house in order to make space to store his supplies and tools. We're using the old concrete forms as platforms for both storage and walking. I gather it was not easy using a pick under the house without room to swing it. And the soil being rocky as it is, is not easy to shovel. 

I learned to make concrete the other day. I could probably make it again myself any old time now that I know what consistency it has to have. The only hitch is finding a way to lift the bags of cement. Those things are heavy. We used some of the sand the contractors left around with a few bags of Portland cement. From this we made footings for the back bridge. We bought some Readi-mix to make the posts. And they look very good, if I do say so myself.

So now, we have to fill in the trench. We could just push back the stuff that they took out of the trench and get a load or two of fill to put on top of it to get the grade we want. But the problem is that soil is rather 'poggy' (word used around here to describe soil that holds water like a sponge) and we don't want to give the run-off a place to live. So we've been thinking of having a few loads of a mixture of sand and shale dropped off. Problem is, where to put it. If we don't move the existing mounds, there's nowhere to put the new stuff. We don't really want to move the existing mounds to another location and then use it later as a top-soil. But we might have to.

I've been devoting most of my back-breaking labour to getting rid of the Mile-A-Minute that was growing along the road-side of the house. I really don't want it there. It takes up all the room on that side of the house and blocks light from the living room window. I've been told that even leaving one little bit of root in the soil will result in two new plants. I expect I'm defeating my own purpose by trying to dig it out, because I'm probably not getting all the little root bits. In fact, I'm sure I'm not. Sigh. I don't want to resort to poison, mainly because I tried that last year and the darn thing laughed at me. It shed the parts of the plant that the poison had touched and the rest of it flourished like never before.

We have not got our new wood stove yet. The one we want is difficult to get. The company sells stoves through at least two retailers - Home Hardware (there is one a few kilometers away) and Rona (several hundred km away). And it appears the stove we want is made for Rona only. However the manufacturer's site lists Home Hardware as their distributer in these parts so the fellow who runs HH is going to call them and give them what for and try to get the stove we want.

As I write, the furnace man is here hooking the furnace back up. Since we had to take down the old brick chimney that the furnace used, we thought we'd have to go with one of those steel chimney jobbies that everyone here uses. But it appears we can get something called (probably wrong name) a power exhauster. It is a short pipe that comes out of the foundation wall and that's it. It has an electric fan that exhausts the fumes and apparently does a great job. Doesn't foul up the siding or poison bystanders. Not sure how but that's what they say. So we're going with that. It's cheaper than buying a 24 foot chimney anyway.

The weather has been the shits, if you'll pardon the expression. We saw the sun yesterday for the first time in nearly two weeks. It was 28 degrees Celsius yesterday. I did two loads of laundry to take advantage of a great sea-breeze and the heat. Today the grey skies are back, but it's not as cold as it was last week.

At one point I was so cold I was starting to remember why I left Newfoundland in the first place all those many years ago. I said in a weak moment, "I want to go home." My dear husband looked at me and said, "I'm already home!"