AN HOMAGE TO THE DRYWALL BUCKET

Recently, our household faced the critical question, “How many drywall buckets does the average family need?”

I asked my husband why there were so many that end up stored in my garden shed and he told me it’s because our friend who lives in the studio above the barn brings them home after he’s done a drywall job.

On the day when I needed the space in my garden shed, I carried a half dozen or so empty drywall buckets out into the yard. I requisitioned one for the ice melt for our walkway. It was selfish of me to take it because someone had attached a beautiful rope handle though there was no cover.

When our friend came home I asked him to keep whichever buckets he needed and could store in “his space” under the porch and leave the others in the barn. I’d drive them to the transfer station with the rest of the recycling later.

“We could leave them down at the end of the driveway” he said, hopefully.  I held my tongue rather than ask “Why?”  Now I worry that I may have hurt his feelings by failing to understand the value of the unused but always available drywall bucket.

Later that day, friends drove by and stopped to talk.  When I noticed 6 to 8 drywall buckets in the back of the truck I asked, “What’s with all the drywall buckets?” Our friend replied, “What do mean? I collect seaweed at the beach, bring it home and spread it on the garden.”  With this comeuppance, I humbly recognized the inherent dignity of the drywall bucket.  No job too small or too dirty.

Later that day I made my pilgrimage to the transfer station. In a concession to my newfound respect for the unneeded drywall buckets, rather than throw them into the dumpster designated for plastic, I placed them on the ground in front of the recycling container.  What if someone came along, saw those drywall buckets and tried to crawl down into the dumpster to get them? Might as well make it easy for whoever needs them.

That afternoon, my husband gathered the fireplace broom and shovel, making ready to clean the ashes out of the woodstove.  Unaware of most of what had transpired that day,   he turned to me and innocently asked, “Where can I find a drywall bucket for the ashes?”

Sheepishly, I told him, “Go out to the barn and use the drywall bucket with the rope handle, the one with the bag of ice melt in it.”  And I silently wondered whether those drywall buckets I didn’t think we needed that morning were still sitting there in front of the plastic recycling dumpster at the transfer station.  But I knew they were gone. 

 

THE RELEASE OF RESCUED FEMALE ORIOLE B-14-12

The Center for Wildlife will be releasing the rescued and rehabilitated female Oriole on April 19, 2012.  She recovered from a number of injuries during her 3 month rehab, including an infected leg and an injured or weakened wing. When she was placed in an outdoor flying cage in March, she gained weight faster than her wings could support her. A staffer called it “flying tank” syndrome.  The prognosis for her was not good when I last spoke to CFW staff about releasing the Oriole, about 3 weeks ago.  Then all of a sudden, she started to fly normally and regained her strength. With the sighting of Orioles in southern Maine, the time has come to let her go.  Because we are Down East, we won’t be able to collect the bird and let her go near our home in Kennebunkport but a CFW volunteer will transport her to town tomorrow and release her nearby.  

OH MY DOG!

On the day of an old fashioned snow storm there’s a cinnamon roll recipe in the Press Herald. How good does that sound on a day when you don’t expect to go outside? The dough hooks were whirling away when the stand mixer suddenly accelerated and then, PZZZT, pop, sparks and smoke, blew up. Oh, well, worry about that later, for now the dough is looking pliable even though the yeast was 5 months past the use-by date.

While the dozen or so rolls were spread out on a cookie sheet for the second rise, I decide to give them a boost by setting them in front of the fireplace. A few minutes later I notice the dog over by the fireplace, eating something…the rolls! Is cinnamon poison for a dog? I know raisins are but there weren’t any in the recipe. Thank goodness for the emergency animal hospital. They refer me to a poison control hotline for animals. They want to know right away if there were raisins in the cinnamon rolls.

Five minutes and a $65 credit-card charge later I’m feeding the dog a mixture of 3%hydrogen peroxide and Greek yogurt. She laps it up like dessert. It seems that the raw dough is very bad, according to the ominous-voiced vet. Yeast dough can expand – there’s no better host for dough to rise than intestines – and the dog can become drunk from the yeast.

I follow the dog around for a few minutes, expectantly holding a towel so she can throw up into it. Then I get distracted. But suddenly good news! She’s puked on the rug, the one that was just sent out to be cleaned. But there isn’t much dough there. She ate 4 or 5 raw rolls. So I call the poison center again to find out if she should have another dose of peroxide. I tell them she didn’t throw up all the dough but there was some carrot in it, something she ate hours ago. “Unfortunately, dogs don’t throw up chronologically” the kind woman tells me.  

While I’m engaged in that conversation, my husband comes into the room and shouts “Goldy puked on the couch!” That's wonderful. Now we have action so I can end the phone call, and indeed, the dog has expectorated everything, there it is, laid out over the blanket covering the couch. Now we just have to watch her for a few hours to see if her abdomen gets distended or she acts drunk. But she can have her usual dinner! This is so confusing.

The next day all is well. The crisis passed, I take a shower and get dressed and as I’m returning to the bathroom there’s the dog eating something, there’s paper all around her on the rug. It’s only the paper that the new bar of soap was wrapped in. The paper I put the soap remnants in! Quick call to the vet where I am reassured this is not a life-threatening situation. At most, she could have diarrhea.

Now I wonder, what are the chances that she would have diarrhea on the same rug she puked on yesterday? It’ll probably hit her when there’s no one here to let her out, while I’m at the store buying a new stand mixer.

RESCUED FEMALE ORIOLE B-14-12

We rescued an immature female oriole during a snowstorm in mid-January. The dog found her on the ground and was picking her up in her mouth when I happened to look out the window. The bird allowed me to take her into my cupped hands after Goldy spit her out. In the house, I held the chartreuse-tinted bird near the wood stove until we rigged up a plate with a towel for bedding and a cover using the inside section of a salad spinner, the piece full of holes.

This cold little bird, her legs frosted with snow, sat by the fire while we consulted with the York Center for Wildlife. They wanted to see the bird that day to make sure she could be treated for whatever injury sent her to the ground.

This wonderful organization takes in birds and critters that have been injured and nurses them with the goal of returning them to the wild. The unfortunate birds who cannot return to the wild, many of them birds of prey, find a permanent home in the unique buildings constructed to house owls and falcons.  Owls are most commonly injured by cars, a sad commentary about modern life. They go to the streets for road kill or are hit as they swoop for prey.

It’s worth a trip to the Center to meet Freya, the peregrine falcon who is now the office mascot. She perches atop a swivel chair in the entry room that serves as an intake and reception center. Freya was so young when she was brought to the Center that she imprinted with the people and now cannot return to the wild. It’s an indescribable thrill to be within 4 feet of a magnificent creature like her.

The injured female oriole, B-14-12 (B for “bird”, 14 because she was the 14^th rescue bird and 12 for the year of her rescue, 2012), has been convalescing at the CFW for about a month now. She spends 24 hours a day in the outdoor aviary where she is able to perch and is relearning how to fly. The CFW staff will let us collect her for release in our yard when the rest of the orioles start coming through again on their spring migration north.

This immature female was one of 3 immature or juvenile orioles who visited our suet bag this winter, one female and two male. They didn’t have the sense to leave Maine last fall. Probably they were lulled into staying by the unseasonably warm weather and lack of snow cover. CFW says many songbirds failed to migrate this year and were caught unawares as the inevitable cold and snow settled in.  My neighbor thinks these birds should be tested for mercury poisoning as their failure to migrate south indicates that they are brain-damaged.

One of the 2 males continues to visit our suet bag daily.  Every morning I watch for him. Is it too much to hope that he might eventually be reunited with his once weaker but perhaps now stronger companion?  Let us hope that the older, more experienced orioles will figure a way to force these two reckless juveniles north to breed and nest and then south again next fall.    

TO BE CONTINUED…..

't ain't Town No More

There was a time when locals referred to Lower Village as “'t ain't Town.” The derogatory nickname derived from the comparison of Lower Village to downtown Kennebunk and to Dock Square in Kennebunkport of which it was neither. Lower Village defied definition but it did have a personality of its own.

Over time, retail shops in Lower Village have tried to capitalize on what was perceived as Kennebunkport’s cachet by listing their address on shopping bags and advertising as ”Kennebunkport.”  A friend and her houseguest spent a frustrating morning trying to locate an antique business which advertises itself as being located on Route 9 in Kennebunkport, but which is physically located on Route 9 on the way to Wells, about a mile from Dock Square and on the Kennebunk side of the River  - just outside of Lower Village.

Essential services which used to be located in Kennebunkport – the hardware store, gas station, grocery store, Laundromat, among others - closed or migrated across the river. Over time, Lower Village became the “downtown” service center Kennebunkport lost as its “downtown” was converted to tourist-dependent retail stores and restaurants.

                                                                                

Those familiar with Lower Village for a half century or so hardly recognize the place today and those who do remember it are concerned about what is happening.

A few years ago the Town of Kennebunk relaxed parking standards on many structures in Lower Village. For years, property sales and commercial development were held back by the requirement that parking be located onsite. The relaxation of the parking requirement was directly responsible for what seems like a commercial development boom.

The first conversion from a home to a business which produced a collective jolt was Tia’s Restaurant. The stately home which was a private residence only 18 months ago has morphed into a 2-story seasonal restaurant with no parking but plenty of tiki-torches and even an outdoor fire pit.  Next door, an art gallery lawn is littered with sculptural whirly-gigs, death to all birds who venture near.

And now everyone is talking about the shocking transformation of a federal-style farmhouse, whose proud façade graced Chase Hill since its construction 150 or more years ago. The new structure, modestly labeled “The Grand” but more accurately described as "The Super-Colossal", is over-scaled, too high and too large in volume.  It towers above everything around it and seems especially imposing as it sits on a high point overlooking the river basin.

Ironically, now that the Town realizes that relaxing the parking requirement worked too well, there is no place for the patrons and employees of all these new businesses to park! Tax payers are being asked to foot the bill for a public parking lot. Stay tuned, there may be trouble ahead on that front.

Old timers in Lower Village are beginning to throw in the towel and put their properties up for sale. When the Town undermines the zoning ordinance that provides protection to the value of your greatest asset, your home, it’s time to take the money and move on.  I feel sorry for people who bought a house as part of a residential neighborhood and now find themselves surrounded by commercial enterprises in structures that once housed families.

Still to come is a large scale overhaul of the Lower Village “streetscape”, beginning in April 2012. There will be new sidewalks, new lighting, a proposal to cantilever a walkway 20 feet into the River, replacement of the wooden railing along the Riverside and many more “improvements”.  It seems like too much to take.

Goodbye, 't ain't Town. We didn't realize how much we liked you until you changed. We took you for granted and now you are gone.