This week, in spite of the endless fog and damp, I stuck with my “every day to the dump” rule, more or less, and tackled the stuff in the lower barn. Once home to a warm and sweet-smelling cow, a pony who knew his own mind, assorted milky calves, and every winter a pair of pigs, the lower barn had been lively with animal sounds and smells.

It’s where, the summer I was pregnant with our first, we learned what house jacks were. Bud Feener loaned us his; not sure if he gave us any instructions, but we probably asked around and figured out what to do. It seems in our enthusiasm for this house (chickadees eating out of hand, a trout brook below the field) we’d neglected to check out the sills. We didn’t even know what sills were.  Turns out, there weren’t any, or rather they’d rotted away, under the lower barn; the gaping back corner, where both the back and side sills had disappeared, apparently was held together with chicken wire.

My dad showed up as he always did when there was a project in the offing. He was as green as we were in these matters, but it was sure good to have a third person join our team. So, one way or another, we three jacked up the back corner of the lower barn, holding our breath all the way, and fitted new 8 x 8 beams in place. I forgot to mention the floor, because I can’t remember what state it was in, but probably comparable to those rotten sills, so we’d hauled that away first. What I do remember is hammering down 2-inch-thick hemlock boards for the new floor. What, if anything, was this doing to the baby growing inside me? All this noise, all the impact? But it felt so good to be working hard in spite of my delicate state.

Pregnancy, though welcome, was an annoyance as well. Funny that today old age is welcome in its way, but certainly annoying when it rears its ugly head.

Meanwhile, Wally and Dad were forging the foundation of their relationship over those sills. They were always so respectful of each other. Probably each thought the other knew more than he did. Funny, but in nearly 50 years of constant conversation, Wally and I never touched on this. He often said that Bud (Dad’s nickname and also Wally’s in his family) was his role model of how to be a father, which he’d never had. Dad had the wonderful ability to keep his opinions to himself with his son-in-law and grown daughter.

The lower barn, I realized the other day, was Wally’s. He wasn’t a man who had a lot of stuff – a chain saw, ice auger, some ice fishing traps, splitting maul, a few mementoes from college, a cigar box of snapshots taken in Korea c. 1957, some pipes.

Did I mention the 15 fishing rods, all but three broken?

Turns out, I wasn’t the only hoarder in this house. Still, I haven’t come across much, but he’s everywhere in the lower barn.

After all, it’s where his cow lived, and his pony, Cocoa. Every winter morning and night he carried two five-gallon buckets of water, shoveled out the tie up and stall, threw down hay from the loft above, settled down at the cow’s side and milked. Summers were a bit easier; water came via hose, the poop stayed outside in the pasture, and grass replaced hay. One summer evening as he sat milking in the open doorway during a thunderstorm he saw a bolt of lightning streak down a giant pine next to the garden; the tree was dead by winter.

As I sorted out the garden tools, one implement stopped me dead – the iron pry bar that had come with the place, it’s top flared raggedly from all the pounding with his heavy maul, driving a hole to put a cedar post in. And I was transported back to a time I’d all but forgotten.

Yes, summer’s were easier in some ways, but oh, the fence.

I’m sure every couple has that make-or-break story – the baby with croup, the impossible in-law – whatever it is that you don’t think you can get through without killing each other. Ours came early in our marriage in the form of a rented floor sander, of which I’ll say no more, except that each sheet of sandpaper cost $3.75, and it tended to explode into smithereens when it touched the floor.

But within a couple of years we topped that by a mile. We got a cow. Why? Because the goats we’d started with were too hard to keep out of the garden. Someone told us a cow was easier. And along with that cow came the Electric Fence. This was nothing like the fences of today, those flippy floppy rods holding up some kind of electrified cable (you can tell how little I know about them), fence that you can install in an hour and never goes off.

Ours consisted of cedar posts driven into the ground every dozen feet or so, with two porcelain insulators nailed onto them, one at 18 inches and the other at about 3 feet. Steel wire was wrapped around the bottom insulator on post one, then onto post two and so forth all around the pasture, then you continued winding the same wire on the top insulators until you got back to the beginning. The wires were then attached to the fencer, a box plugged into an electrical outlet in the hen house; it sent out a continuous charge all around the pasture, a charge which the cow, and sometimes even the pony, respected.

Except if the wire touched the post or the ground or a branch, or if an unsuspecting animal like a moose or deer had plowed through and pulled the wire down, or if the grass was wet or if it was raining, the fencer didn’t flash, meaning the wire was dead. Meaning the cow, or more likely the pony, would quickly discover that and walk through the fence.

Sometimes I noticed it wasn’t flashing when I went out to feed the chickens, and I actually pretended I hadn’t. I never wanted to be the one to deliver the bad news. He, on the other hand, seemed to relish it. “The g-d fence is off,” he’d say, almost with pleasure, as if this was one more thing that was my fault. Is this resonating with anyone else?

So then, whatever was on our agenda for the next hour was promptly cancelled, as we began the dreaded “walking the fence.”  Think of the consequences of putting it off. A pony trotting up the middle of the road, or worse, a cow in our neighbor Ben’s carefully-tended garden.

Wally carried the wire cutters and spool of wire, as he stomped ahead of me, and I followed, double-checking his work. Every single insulator on every single post had to be checked, wet grass pulled away from the wire, branches broken off and chucked into the woods. Once back at the beginning I’d plug in the fencer and pray for the flash. Often it took two or even three circuits of the pasture before the damn thing rewarded us with a flash.

On re-reading this so far, I realize that once again I’m telling the story as I like to remember it. He did most of the fence-walking alone. I might be at the kitchen sink, watching him make the circuit, going from window to window to catch sight of him as he disappeared into the further reaches of the pasture, hoping that this time it would work. Only then, when he started around again, would I go out and offer to help. All I’d get would be a grumble or a sputter in reply, but I took it for “Yes, I’d love to have help. Thank you.”

As with so much in our marriage it was only in later years with the kids gone, and his job too, that we found out we could actually work together without fighting, even enjoyed it sometimes. Again, sound familiar?

Black flies were a requisite of this torture, as was hot sun and bad tempers. There was always something else we needed to be doing, but couldn’t because of the “g-d fence”. And then, it would be fixed, and so would we. The anger, the frustration melted away, until the next time that is.

Our last cow left the place in 2000 since we’d be traveling to our son’s wedding in Australia; we couldn’t find anyone to milk for the three weeks of our absence, and to be honest, it was time. Our sons had left home, getting in hay was harder, we didn’t need all that milk. Cocoa lived on for several more years, and then one winter day Wally went down to tend to him and found him lying on his side. He died a few hours later.

The fence came down that summer, but it’s only this past year that the deer have begun to cross the pasture or nibble at our fruit trees. I think the does passed down knowledge of the electric fence (that sometimes worked) and somehow all the new fawns learned. Then one day, some brave young deer walked boldly across the invisible line and nothing happened.

Anticipation is building as the actual building of the new general store proceeds; I’m sure everyone’s noticed the nice, red siding that’s been going up this past week. Store owner Briar Lyons writes in the LBB that she’s seeking support for “a cross walk across route 52 to the parking lot at Grampa Halls (which will support overflow parking for the store) as well as your support for installing a four-way stop at the intersection of route 52, 173 and the Heal road. The Grampa Hall's parking area will have traffic exiting on to the Heal road so as to limit traffic confusion.

 “We are hoping to be added to the agenda for the next Selectboard meeting, and hope to have some drawings in hand from our design team at that time. If we have the blessing of the select board and the community, we expect that the DOT will allow for these things to pass. We will keep you all updated on the progress.

 “We are also in full support of a sidewalk, so we might as well open that discussion too.”

School/LCS News

It’s already time to register next year’s kindergarten students. If you have a child turning five on or before October 15, 2017 he/she is old enough for school. Call Marie, the school secretary, at 763-3366, to pre-register your child as soon as possible.

The Student of the Month Assembly will be held Friday, May 5 at 2:30 p.m. in Walsh Common.

 It’s concert and performance time at LCS, starting this Wednesday, May 3 when children in K, 1 and 2 will be singing French songs they’ve learned and doing a musical based on a well-known folk tale. You’ll have to come to find out which tale….

 Friday, May 5 the annual grades 3-8 Talent Show, sponsored by the eighth grade class, will be a great display of music, dance, singing, and who knows what else! Admission of $2 per person or $5 for a family helps the eighth grade’s fund-raising for their class trip. Refreshments will also be on sale.

And then next Wednesday, May 10, grades 3-5 will perform a suite entitled Earth, Water, Fire, and Air. The beginning band will have their debut performance that night as well.

Finally, on May 25 grades 6-7 will be on the stage with the Stage Band, the Concert Band with movie soundtracks, and the Chorus with a Broadway Medley.

All performances start at 6:30 p.m. And once it’s all over I imagine Ms. Widdoes, the LCS music director, will need a nice long vacation!

LSD or L’ville Sewer District

Now there’s an attention-grabbing title for a music program! Perhaps you’ve heard that Lincolnville has its own chorus and instrumentalists now, under the direction of Shannon Elliot. The Lincolnville Music Project, sponsored by the United Christian Church, aims to connect all members of the community through music, regardless of age, experience or training. So, Celtic Chaos! This week-end two concerts, Friday, May 5 at 6 p.m. and Saturday, May 6 at 3 p.m. with both performances to be held at the Community Building. Friday evening Celtic harpist Alex Bigney Sr. will join the musicians. “Saturday’s performance,” writes Shannon, “will be full of fun, surprises and perhaps even Scottish Dancers. Both concerts will be followed by a reception and Ceilidh (that’s a rompin’ good time playing any instrument or singing with the audience). The concerts are free to the public but a donation to the Pot O’Gold is never turned down.”

Library or LCL

Tuesday I’ll be teaching knitting to a group of beginners. If you’ve always wanted to learn or have tried and now forget how, there’s still room to join us.

All are invited to join the Library’s book group this month in reading "My Brilliant Friend" by Elena Ferrante . Called “a modern masterpiece” on Goodreads, the book is a “meticulous portrait of two women that is also the story of a nation and a touching meditation on the nature of friendship.”   

 Librarian Sheila Polson writes: “Some people tell us they love this book and the Italian author’s entire Neapolitan Novel series; others aren't so enthusiastic. We'd love to hear what you think! We'll meet to discuss the book on Tuesday, May 16 at 6 p.m.”

 Jessica Day of Midcoast Music Together will offer another fun family music program this Friday, May 5 at 11 a.m. at the Library. All families with children from newborn to age 5 are invited to come sing, dance, and explore musical instruments together. The free monthly music program is generously sponsored by the Ethel and W. George Kennedy Family Foundation.

 Ron Joseph, a retired wildlife biologist, will present “Maine Birds and Their Habitats” on Friday, May 12 at 7 p.m. at the Lincolnville Community Library.

The illustrated talk will focus on bird species and their habitats across Maine, bird conservation, breeding bird surveys, and birding areas in Maine. Then on Saturday, May 13 Ron will lead a bird walk beginning at 6:30 a.m. at Tanglewood 4-H Camp. This is expected to be a prime time for seeing migrant birds passing through the area, he said. The talk and walk are free, but with limited space for the walk, please register by calling 763-4343 or email .

Oops! Jumped the Gun on the LIA’s Opening Meeting

This coming Saturday and Sunday, May 6 and 7, 10 a.m. – 4 p.m., Siem van der Ven will open his studio to show the work he did “during the cold and quiet of winter, …..[moving] steadily through projects …. casting wax and then bronze, carving wood and combining materials to finish several new sculptures. The gallery is full.” Many items will be marked down, and “of course,” he says, “there will be cookies.”

 On Saturday, Siem notes, his pottery neighbor, Megan Flynn will have a sale on Saturday at her studio next to the LBC. (check out the above L’ville abbreviations.)

Island Zero – a L’ville Filmmaker

Edna Pendleton reports having flickers and bluebirds at her Stan Cilley Road house. Flickers were pretty common where I grew up in the Midwest, but I’ve rarely seen them here. Anyone else with these birds? I always thought they ate ants; is that true?

On a much larger scale, Allan Thomas told me that he and Ava Jackson saw a Moose at “my” end of Slab City Road, coming down off the mountain (Frohock?) and trotting along the road. It was the same day that a moose – same one? – was seen in Sleepy Hollow. It was the first moose Allan had seen in 15 years, he said.