The categories on our list for “septic” and “plumbing” turned out to be incomplete. We needed to uncover
the cleanout the other cleanout the other other cleanout the inflow baffle the outflow baffle the entire inflow line from the foundation, and the entire outflow line to where it branches into the leach field.
The really bad news is the the outflow line appears to be directly under one of the brand new propane tanks. So if it needs to be replaced (which seems likely — it seems to be made of a substandard material) the tank will have to be moved, at least temporarily. So today had a bit of that “three steps forward, one step back” feel to it.
But we did uncover almost the entire outline of a 1,000-gallon septic sarcophagus, so there’s that.
We swept the main floor and the upstairs — will need to be done again (and again) but for now the squirrel turds, plaster dust, and fiberglas are gone to dumpster heaven.
Marsh raked and graded large sections of the overgrown grassy areas near the house, adding to our collection of stones for an eventual stone wall.
Annie and Homer hung out in the kennel enclosure, quite happily.
Neighbor Allan The Plumber came over a couple of times to see our progress on the septic and advise us. Ultimately — as there is more digging to be done on that end — we asked if he could proceed with all deliberate speed on the other end, i.e., the well, pump, and expansion tank, so that we may be ready to hook up water to the camper we hope to move into in about 10 days. He allowed as how he could, and I gave him the key to the bulkhead. There’s a good chance we’ll have running water from a new outside spigot (“sillcock”) when we return Friday; though its potability will not have been tested yet. A sample will be sent away ASAP.
I reseated the mailbox (its post had grown wobbly in the frost heave) and took the opportunity to lower it to more like regulation height.
We dragged a 20-foot 2×6 out of the ruins of the shed/trailer off the tote road, and then another 8-foot 2×6, with the thought of constructing our first raised bed and filling it with the bags of horse manure we brought with us from Gloria’s farm. Had I mentioned the manure? But then I realized I lacked 10d nails, and the old ones in the wood would be far too corroded to reuse. So we set the boards aside for another day. The manure went in a heap so we could bring the bags back to Buxton and refill them.
We met another neighbor, and while teenage boys on dune buggies (school is out this week) and Amish girls on bicycles crisscrossed on the road, we chatted with John about his 40 years in Thorndike (the neighboring town, whose line doubles as our southern boundary), his reminiscences of the previous owner of our land (no kinder than anyone else’s reminiscences), the relative prevalence of and variable prosecution of marijuana cultivation in our area, and Maine winters (of course). He was exceedingly nice, invited us to dinner sometime, offered to loan power tools, and was generally welcoming.
If I missed something, excuse me. So. Tired.