Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig Dig

Still digging.  We're close though.  The foundation is almost done.  Well, almost except for those huge rocks that the backhoe won't budge.

"I don't know why anyone would want to try to dig a foundation in Bleecker," said Earl.

"Because I don't want to freeze my butt off," said I.

Dumpy ran out of gas.  I had put five gallons in him a few days before.  How many miles did I put on Dumpy, thought I?  Maybe one?

I had a half gallon of gas left in the jerry can.  I dumped it in Dumpy's tank and backed him up the hill, where you see him in the photo below.

Earl called me over.  Dumpy was full.  I climbed in and started  him.  It takes a few minutes for the air brakes to pressurize.  While I was waiting, Dumpy ran out of gas again.  Really?  Seriously?  This truck burns a half a gallon of gas every five minutes???

We decided to call it a day.

It was late anyway, round 6 PM.  This is Earl relaxing with his pipe.  The PBRs on the ground belong to both of us.  We have one at lunch, one at mid-afternoon break, and one at the end of the day.  Earl claims I get him drunk.

"Well, I've had enough of your shit for one day," said Earl.  And with that, he was off on his ATV and headed home.  

I was alone.  It was quiet.  It was nice.  No noise from the backhoe or the tractor.  No road noise.  Just the wind whispering in the trees.  I looked around and imagined what it will be like with the house, barn, and pole barn finished.  I imagined what it will be like to sit on the porch, looking out on Shaker Mountain.  It will be nice.  Very nice.  And peaceful.  And cold, sweet Jesus!  There's already a bite in the air.