A Wet Hole in the Ground

I was up late reading so it was ten before I even woke up. When I did, I did a tour of the grounds and took the temper of the bugs and then worked inside on cedar cladding in the new part and in covering a wall I made in the early days of construction in the main cabin when I had quite crappy wood. I finished the wall in the main part of the cabin and installed a new receptacle as well. I’ll have to bring some more cedar from the pallet shed, for now I only have one piece left. The half log planter dries out quickly. I’ll have to add some more dirt to it. I found that out this evening when I checked on the garden and pond.

The pond is still not holding water but much of that is likely about supply as well as the porous bottom. I am hoping that as leaves coat it in the fall, and the rains come over the fall and winter, that it will seal on its own. Otherwise it is a sometimes wet hole in the ground.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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