We've been wanting power in the carriage barn ever since we've been in our house, and finally we're getting to it. A few weeks ago Marty began digging a trench from the house to the carriage barn -- 2 feet deep, and while our property is a small city lot, digging through a century of buried debris -- mostly bricks from the old chimney was not easy. (What are the odds that the line for the electrical cable to be laid in would fall here?) Not to mention digging in a straight line.
To get the straight line, Marty ran a string from the corner of one building to another, anchoring the string to stakes. He then commenced digging. Enter Bob, our outdoor-loving, playful Jack Russell/Rat Terror mix, who may also have some rogue feline heritage in his family tree. He spied the string, and immediately ran over to bat at it, roll over it, tangle with it, anything to get a response. So much for a straight line. On to Plan B. Marty got the can of spray paint out, and with my help, sprayed a straight line directly on the ground instead. On to Bob's Plan B -- roll on back and give himself a backrub on the freshly painted line. Oy vey! He's quite the character. Lots of fun for him, hands in the air and laughter from us. And the trench? After a couple of weeks of backbreaking work, it is finally done, and the electrician was thrilled with the depth. We are pleased with some of our archaeological finds (plenty of bricks and stone for walkways and an outdoor fire pit), including a 1929 Maine license plate, and a horseshoe -- both encrusted with rust, but still keepers.
And we have a new found appreciation for soldiers in the field from now and yesteryear, who hauled heavy equipment on the their backs in the midst of digging trenches, and building barriers under less than ideal conditions. Semper fi!