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This is a road. Seriously.

This tree in the road is creating quite a bit of excitement. The first night it went down, 16 came home from working on the house. He said, “We almost couldn’t come home tonight!” He was working late with Steve-the-Builder and they drove out and found this tree down in the road at the end of our farm. They turned around and tried to go out by way of the river, but decided the river was too high to ford. Steve-the-Builder had a chain saw with him and he cut out enough branches for them to drive under. And we’ve been driving under it ever since.
Well, honestly, everyone but me. I’ve “ridden” out there under the tree, but not driven under it myself. Until yesterday. When 16 got off school, I followed him out the road. He waited for me after he drove under the tree. Because I am a wuss. I got out of my car and made him drive my car under the tree. So I could watch and whimper and be sure it would fit.
I’ve got a lot of toughening up to do since I’m sure this isn’t the first, or the last, tree that’ll stand in my way.

The good news is that when I went home? I drove under the tree myself. I am so tough! Okay, not really, but I did drive under the tree! (See that phone line under the tree? It’s not ours. Our phone line comes from the other direction, across the river. I don’t know if the people who are on this phone line are out of service or not.)

It was worth the effort to get there. Steve-the-Builder had half the kitchen installed!!!

(Good thing I bought that hardwood floor mop yesterday.)
In a spurt of hope, glorious hope, I brought out a big package of toilet paper. As if we might have water someday….. (This is the downstairs boys’ bathroom.)

And about that really big obstacle? The water? Finally, we have a new drilling slated for tomorrow!!!! I know buying that toilet paper made all the difference. The universe just needs to know you mean it, you know?
"It was a cold wintry day when I brought my children to live in rural West Virginia. The farmhouse was one hundred years old, there was already snow on the ground, and the heat was sparse-—as was the insulation. The floors weren’t even, either. My then-twelve-year-old son walked in the door and said, “You’ve brought us to this slanted little house to die." Keep reading our story....
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