A few years ago Hank and I wrote out a detailed explanation of the Taylor finances for the children, information on the where, what and when of various accounts, tax records, wills, unpaid bills, etc., so they'd know what was what when we were gone. I redid all that info after Hank died. It never occurred to me, at least not until last week when I was doing fall chores, that I should provide some information on the little jobs that keep Locust Hill functioning.
As I crawled onto the roof from the bedroom with the attic window, I realized that none of my kids know about this difficult fall chore. Now that Bridget and her spouse own Locust Hill and are my landlords, the question of whether they would do this ridiculous job and all the other little jobs when I'm gone kept popping into my head.
The screen on the attic window has no frame. It's permanently stapled to the inside wall. To put the window back on at summer's end, one must climb up on the roof and attach the window by two screws from the outside. I suspect John might possibly do this once before he puts a new window in the attic.
Other jobs are not quite so complicated, but will Bridget and John know enough to do them??? The faucet down cellar that controls outside water must be turned off before freezing temperatures arrive. Then all the outside faucets should be turned on to drain, and the connection at the lowest point in the line leading to the sauna must be disconnected so water won't remain in the line and freeze. And don't forget the faucet behind the guest house that waters the raspberry bed all summer.
Then of course the hoses should all be drained, rolled up and put away. The statue of two loving frogs that sits in the middle of the birdbath beside the sauna will surely freeze and crack if not brought into the garden shed, and the window boxes full of geraniums should be taken up to the guest house so they can continue to bloom all winter. All the birdhouses must be emptied of nests or the birds won't bother with them the following spring.
Great Grandfather's swing that hangs in the apple tree should be put down cellar for the winter. I've already done that so I found a picture of me and Bridget's boys taken in 1990.
The birdfeeder should be put up on the library window, and the sheet of plywood in the garden shed laid under it to protect the pachysandra from leftover seeds. The other sheet of plywood (down cellar) goes on the front porch to protect the clapboards from being scored by the winter wood supply.
The temporary fence (rolled up on the stone pile in the big pasture) needs to be put up across the long lot so the steers can graze there. The pins in the gate to the vegetable garden need to be removed so the gate can be put away. Snow will prevent one from opening this gate, making access to the compost pile impossible. Of course Bridget may not bother adding her garbage to the compost and end up using the disposall. Oh, dear, let's hope not.
The sump pump that spits excess well water into the pond all summer should be pulled up and disconnected. The accumulated hay and manure in the animal barn, which I assume has been shoveled up and removed during the summer, should be spread on the vegetable garden so it will be well-rotted by spring. Will Bridget still have a vegetable garden when I've gone to the great garden in the sky? Who knows?
Then there's the major chore of putting the raspberry bed to bed. Raspberries are biennials, merely growing the first year, then blossoming, berrying and dying the second. The dead stems need to be removed, and the new growth limited to only three or four stems per plant. Otherwise, the bed becomes a hopeless briar patch. Then both the raspberries and the asparagus need to be heavily mulched with old hay.
There are important (at least to me) mowing jobs that get done each fall. If the orchard grass that grows on the knoll isn't cut back, the spring-blooming daffodils can hardly be seen. And the backyard lawn, which produces dozens of crocuses each spring, needs to be cut close with the hand mower and then raked. A big circle should be mowed under the Carpathian walnut tree so the walnuts can be easily found come October.
I don't want to think about how Bridget and John will handle some of the other fall chores. Will they even bother to continue having a perennial border 100 feet long that must be edged each spring and fertilized with compost, its dead annuals and old stalks removed? Maybe they won't even want sheep, so the pastures will slowly turn from thistles and burdocks to brush and sumac and eventually become scrub woodland.
Of course it won't matter to me when I'm dead and gone, but I plan to attach a copy of this column to my will.
