Or how many fat ladies does it take to sing that it’s over, before it really, really is over.

Mid-September had John and me believing we were happier than pigs in slop due to the September 10 approval of our variance application by the county’s BZA (Board of Zoning Appeals).  Work on Stella was again in full force.  Accepting of all the attention being paid her, Stella responded with striking beauty.

As the hand-cut cedar shake siding began to cover more and more of Stella, we became more and more delighted with having chosen it.  Stunning was our favorite description.  A drain field is dug and a septic system is installed.  Long awaited cement trucks return to Lee-Hall Farm’s driveway and porches are poured. Finally we can get into the house through the front, back, and side entrances – woo hoo!  Woo hoo indeed!  When the bead board front and back porch ceilings were completed, we felt as tickled as a child finding proof of the tooth fairy’s existence under the pillow the morning after losing that first tooth.

Our favorite mason returned to lay the brick façade on the front A-frame.  We were reminded how beautiful the Farmington brick was and our 2012 brick was finally getting its showcase resting place.  A 2012 brick for a house still not complete in November 2013?  The simple explanation is that John and I began to give Stella life in 2012.  After our June  Revolutionary and Civil War History vacation in Virginia that year, we began looking for suitable house plans and a general contractor.  Although it was never intended that Stella would be completed in 2012, work on the house was initially thought to begin later that fall.

In the evening of Wednesday, September 25, 2013 John and I had gone interior doorknob shopping at the request of our builder.  We’d gone to dinner first and then shopping.  On our way home at approximately 9:20 pm the car starts quacking, quacking because I set a duck’s quack as the builder’s ringtone when all it did in the earliest stages of construction was rain and rain some more.

John and I were startled that our builder would be calling at such an hour in the night.  Our state of startle was justified.  Bad news was on the other end of that quacking ringtone.  Our builder was calling to inform us that the county Board of Supervisors had had a closed session meeting earlier in the evening and the result was that they had voted 5-2 to repeal the decision made earlier in the month by the BZA.  Further, they had voted to instruct the county attorney to file suit against the builder and me and, to issue a restraining order against me, meaning construction on Stella must cease.

Apparently the fat lady did not sing on September 10, although we could have sworn we heard her sing.

Never could we have imagined a scenario like this.  It made no sense to us nor would it ever make sense as legally, an explanation was not due us.

In short order we were back in the attorney’s office planning strategy and trying to guess the order of events within the county’s court system.  We quickly learned that the county wastes little time in suing its citizens.  Within two weeks I was served and the restraining order was in place.

I’m as innocent as the driven snow, just ask my Sunday school teacher. Were she still alive today, there’s no doubt she’d tell you!

Complete, utter innocence does little to deflect despondence and innocence does little to keep one from apprehensively looking over one’s shoulder, curious as to from where the next wrench will be thrown or how much further the county will pursue something so incomprehensible.

John and I were devastated as was our builder, but for obviously differing reasons.  We did share money as a common reason.  With determination our builder set forth to contact each member of the Board of Supervisors.  He learned that in our being denied due process, the board had not been presented all the facts of our case.

We also learned that two weeks after voting to deny our variance appeal and sue me, the Board of Supervisors was presented another variance appeal that mirrored our case almost to a T.  The board unanimously voted to grant this new appeal brought before them.  Needless to say, the decision puzzled us and a feeling of inequity was glaring.

Additional meetings with the attorney followed.  There were an abundance of things we didn’t understand; primarily among them was the absence of due process and inequity.  The attorney filed an answer to the suit stating that I denied all items within the suit and that I demanded strictest proof of the claims.  In the meantime, our builder continued to reach out to the members of the Board of Supervisors with intent to speak with each one prior to the next scheduled closed session on October 23.

We also made the decision not to allow the county to proceed with suit against me.  If the Board again ruled to stay their September decision, we would withdraw our variance appeal and the case would be dropped.  We then would either move the house or alter it to comply with county code.  We began brainstorming with the builder and his subcontractors and developed a pleasantly acceptable alteration plan.  These decisions were made because we had no more time to give.  Were we to lose and continue to fight the case, it was conceivable that the county could pursue this until it reached Virginia’s supreme court, a process that could take another 14 or more months.

No, could not, would not do that.

On Wednesday, October 23, 2013 the Hanover County Board of Supervisors did a 180-degree turn around and voted 5-2 to drop the suit against me and revoke the restraining order.  It was acknowledged that their prior ruling had been made without the privilege of all the facts concerning our appeal.  It was acknowledged that the mistake of the builder and the county’s decisions against me inflicted hardship upon me.  It was acknowledged that the county had not uncovered the error, but rather the builder had blown the whistle on himself, reporting his error to the county on the first business day after discovery.

The county attorney recommended to the judge that the case be dismissed with prejudice and the restraining order lifted.  The judge accepted the recommendation, dismissed the case and lifted the order.

“Free at last! Free at last! Thank God Almighty, we are free at last!” – Thank you, Dr. King

I pull from Wikipedia and NOLO respectively, to explain “with predjudice” –

“Prejudice is a legal term with different meanings when used in criminal, civil or common law. In general, an action taken with prejudice indicates misconduct on the part of the party who filed the claim and forbids that party from refiling the case, while without prejudice often refers to procedural problems where the party may refile.”

“When a lawsuit is dismissed with prejudice, the court is saying that it has made a final determination on the merits of the case, and that the plaintiff is therefore forbidden from filing another lawsuit based on the same grounds.”

Construction is now underway after having endured two stop orders.  The work taking place is bringing joy to our hearts once more.  We have no idea when we’ll move in, but it is beginning to look like it will actually happen rather than remain a dream.  We now have real interior walls and doors!  Real ones!

S-t-e-l-l-a!

Breakfast nook as seen from the dining room

Reminder – picture links can be found on the right side of the page.  Newest pictures can be viewed by clicking the link “Beginning Again.”

Or, why I shouldn’t have cleared that dang thicket.

On May 28, 2013 my sister, Sharon, my nephew, Kris, and I were clearing a thicket growing in the field along side the property line.  I wanted it cleared because it mostly consisted of a bush I can’t stand.  I don’t know its botanical name, I simply call it the weed bush.  John had cut the remainder of the field the day before.

While clearing the thicket I noticed an iron stake, it looked like a property stake.  I nearly tripped on it.  I wondered what the stake marked.  I wondered if it was another of our property line stakes, but thought not, for it was too far inside our property.  If it was our stake, then I needed to get a bill ready for the neighbor – services rendered, clearing of shared thicket.

We continued to clear the thicket for 2 more days and upon completing the clearing, I pointed out the stake to John.  John was a little more thoughtful than I and more concerned.  He measured.  He told me that if that were indeed our property stake, our house was too close to the abutting property, we were short of the required 25ft. setback by 10.75ft.

Oh dear!

Our builder had informed us that he was taking a 4-day weekend, Thursday through Sunday, and would return to the office on Monday.  It so happens that on that same Thursday windows had arrived and were being installed.  Not being completely satisfied with the windows, John and I voiced our displeasure to the installer and told him we’d take it up with the builder come Monday.

After talking about the property stake between ourselves, John and I decided we should call the builder’s office to leave a message giving the builder a head’s up for his return on Monday.  Before I could speak, the office manager told me that she had told the installer to hold off on installing more windows until our displeasure was addressed.  I thanked her and laughed a bit and told her I was calling because there potentially was a problem more grave than a couple windows.  I let her know about the stake.  She sounded as shaky about that news as John and I were.

The builder didn’t wait until Monday to return our call.  He told us there was no possibility the setback was wrong.  We said okay, but let’s double check everything on Monday.  After ending the phone conversation, John and I decided to visit Stella and remeasure.  We were not there 5 minutes when the builder arrives in what appeared to be his Bat Mobile.  He was flying.

Much to everyone’s dismay the setback was incorrect.  John and the builder pulled twine between the front property stake and the back property stake and that one in the middle, well, it was in perfect alignment.

Donkey balls!

The builder had made an honest, but damaging mistake.  The following day, Monday, the builder visited the county offices and filed an appeal for a variance.  Our appeal would be heard on Tuesday, July 9, 2013.  The builder was given permission to continue work until the house was “weathered.”  The builder and I also visited our neighbor, the owners of the abutting property to inform them of the builder’s mistake.  The owners, Anne and Elmo Cross, could not have been more supportive.  Both wrote letters to the county stating their support and that they had no issue with the 14.25ft setback as opposed to the 25ft requirement.

At the time of the July 9 hearing before the Hanover County Board of Zoning Appeals (BZA), our thus far progress went as far as the roof being shingled, all the windows and doors in place, the dormers sided and the interior electric and plumbing partially completed.  Despite the confidence of our builder that the variance would be granted, our appeal was tabled for 60 days – until the September 10, 2013 BZA meeting.  The BZA’s request of us was to secure a signed letter from Ann and Elmo Cross stating that they could not accommodate us by trading with or selling to us a small parcel of their land to satisfy the 25ft setback requirement.  The amount of land I’m talking about here is about 330 sq. ft. – a 22x15ft room – it looked like the moon of a thumbnail on the plat drawing.  The BZA said they needed more than our word that the Crosses could not accommodate us, they needed the Crosses to state it in writing.

For the love of God!  I could have secured and provided the letter the very next day, but noooooo, we had to wait 60 days.  Sigh.  Oh, I failed to mention that the BZA also issued a Stop Work Order.  Heavy duty sigh.  No, make that fits of tears!  We were devastated by the postponement and by the Stop Work Order.

September 10th seemed so far away, like such a long time.  In construction-speak, especially to the clients, it is a long time.  Because we had been on site every day since construction began, it was difficult for us to alter our schedules, at least it was for me – how would I now occupy my days?  As of July 1, 2013, John “unretired.”  It would be easier for him to adjust.

John likes to tell people that I told him he needed more structure.  While that is partially true, he also was bored.  It would be difficult for anyone to acclimate to retirement if the acclimation took place somewhere other than your own home and among boxes filled with your stuff from which you had, had to I tell you, remain separated.  Anyway, John went back to work — with the county, of all places, in the IT Department.  No, in case you’re wondering, his employment with the county helped us nary a lick.

Meanwhile Stella sat there, majestic as ever, but lonely.  Although she hadn’t been abandoned, she looked it.  John and I frequently would stop by to pat her, to remind her we love her and to let her know we were fighting for her.

Our builder hired an attorney to help us with our case – hopefully, to help us win it!!  I met with the builder and the attorney on two occasions, the builder met with him other times when I was not present.  The builder and I were given assignments.  My assignment was to provide pictures of the property after rainstorms and to write an essay of sorts that would humanize our case.

This task proved very emotional for me in that I had to revisit all the details that brought John and me to Virginia.  It all started of course with the deaths of our spouses, John and MaryLisa.

The builder and I submitted our assignments to the attorney.  The attorney was delighted with the pictures we had been capturing for the purpose of submission to VDot to give effort to correcting the poor drainage on Georgetown Road, and on our property and the property of 4 of our neighbors.  How fortunate for the variance case that the pictures had been taken.

Finally our wait was over.  The calendar flipped its page to September 10, 2013.  For about 30 minutes, our attorney spoke on our behalf and midway through his oration, with the biggest and sweetest smile on his face, John leaned into me to whisper, “he’s sold me.”

Then as they say, whoever “they” may be, the shit hit the fan.

During the next hour and a half we were put through the wringer.  It literally felt to me that I was being physically assaulted.  New questions were asked of us, new items were requested from us.  The items we brought forth to further support our claim that the present location of the house was the best and only place for the house were examined under a microscope.  My sister’s health was questioned.  Documents of proof were requested, for in the BZA’s eyes, what was presented could not be viewed as factual.

A motion was made to deny our appeal.

You could hear our hearts sink and hit the floor.

Next we were told that we had filed our appeal in error, that we had not prior included nor mentioned any of the statements we were making that night.  They motioned that our current appeal be rescinded for it was in error and a new appeal submitted.

What?  Were we not on record somewhere as valid?  Wasn’t our appeal okay in their eyes 60 days ago?

They suggested to us to accept another 60 day postponement in order to have a geological study done on the property and to secure documentation supporting my sister’s health issues.

I sat in enraged silence, although John said I was huffing a lot (my dad always called it blowing when I would heavily sigh).  John began to feel ill.  I leaned to the attorney and told him to have them read the minutes, that in the minutes they would find that we had satisfied the requests made of us at the July meeting, the requests that were the reason at that time, for the 60 day postponement.  I told him I felt the BZA had mislead us, deceived us and were manipulating us and that I was not going to tolerate it.

The minutes were read.  The minutes clearly stated what was requested of us and it was clearly determined that we had satisfied the request.  However!!!! what they did next was to ask for a 5 minute adjournment for our counsel to confer with us about our desire to insist upon a vote that night or to agree to another 60 day postponement.  John and I agreed and adamantly expressed our opposition to a postponement.

Two board members mistook us for idiots and were in our faces (without actually being in our faces) to ensure we understood what was at stake, inferring that we were facing a denial of our appeal.  John and I shook our heads in understanding and in our minds  spoke a few choice expletives.

Next thing we know there is a vote to approve/deny the motion to deny our appeal.  The deny motion was denied.  Immediately thereafter there was a motion on the floor to approve our appeal.  The approve motion passed 5-2!  We came into the meeting biting our nails not knowing if we’d garner the 4 needed votes and here we got 5!  Yippe ki yo ki yay!

John, the builder and I sat there in shock.  None of us was exactly sure what happened.  We questioningly looked at each other and asked, “is what I think just happened, actually what happened?”  “Had they ceased firing the hailstorm of cannonballs?”  We decided yes and together with our attorney, high tailed it out of the auditorium before they could change their minds.  We felt intense need to emit loud sounds of joy and gratitude and to see if with our 4 heads together, we could figure out what had just happened in that hearing room.

All I know is there are a lot of dead horses in Hanover County and they are unmercifully beaten.

Sweet, sweet victory was ours!

The very next day John received an email copy of the letter being mailed to us from the county confirming the BZA’s approval of our variance.  All that is needed now is for the builder to visit the county offices to secure the proper signoffs on permits and such, giving the go ahead for the re-commencement of construction.  Come next Monday, I hope to be hearing the sounds of power hammers and saws and the sometimes foul language of construction workers.  It will be sweet music to my ears.

I’ve perched the email copy of the letter in one of the blue velvet Queen Anne chairs for us to gaily gaze upon.  If only I had a crown to set atop the chair to make it a truly regal place for that beloved email copy of the letter.

Glory be to God for the calling of bluffs.  Amen.

Hanover Courthouse, erected 1735

With the frame work basically being finished, the plumbing and the wiring has begun.  Obviously, these are essential components to any house.  This work appears to be tedious at times and in late June in Virgina, it is swelteringly hot work and swelteringly hot can make electricians grouchy – so far it seems like water off a duck’s back to plumbers.

The interior of the house looks like spaghetti cooked in a pressure cooker has blown its lid.  I again appreciate and respect tradesmen.  How electrical wires are kept straight causing neither a fire nor an explosion is beyond me.  I flick a switch and voilà, a room is filled with lumina, thanks to our electrician, Scott, and his apprentice, DJ!

A plumber’s work is no less amazing.  All the faucets tap the water source and all the drains connect to the septic system and drain-waste-vent system.  PVC with traces of purple stain and copper tubing run like a maze alongside floor joists and framing studs.  I turn or press a lever and I am able to run water or flush water, thanks to our plumber, Mike.

We’re not able to witness too much of this work as it can’t be seen from the comfort of an air conditioned Silverado cab where we sit a good part of the day so as not to be underfoot of these skilled men as they work in the heat of the day.  However, the silent partners, the electrical wiring, the plumbing, the HVAC, the audio/visual wiring, will play an integral role in the comfort we will enjoy in our finished home.

And I say, let it stay that way.  I want this house to sit where it is, as pretty as it is.  John and I decided she (the house) needed a name and so, may I introduce you to Stella.

This picture of Stella is a favorite of mine.  It shows her as intricate, well formed and sturdy, made of the earth, with possibilities as open and limitless as the sky – she is our shining star.

Stella’s framing has come a very long way since I first wrote about it on May 2nd in the entry, “I’m not bad, I’m just drawn that way.”  Every step of the process has been very exciting.  Watching a house get framed, one might think it as exciting as watching grass grow, but for John and me, it has been extremely exciting.  We’ve been fortunate to be there every day and for the most part, the entire day.  It’s been tremendously beneficial to us to be there.  Our framer, Andy Thornton, is able to ask us things because we are there.  He’s a superbly skilled framer and has this remarkable eye.  One might say he has this eye because he’s superbly skilled and while that is true, I feel it also is true that he is superbly skilled because he has this remarkable eye.

In any case, John and I have benefited not just from being there to see Stella take form, but have benefited because Andy has been able to run things by us, immediately, right there on the spot.  He has changed the house from the original plans in wonderful ways, ways that were simply cool and ways that made sense where there was none.

While framing has been taking place, John has acquired a new Asian girlfriend, although she was assembled in the USA.  Her name, Lurline Kubota.  He first laid eyes on her May 9th.

Lurline Kubota

John, Sharon and I have had such fun with Lurline and with doing other things while framing has taken place.  We cleared land, spread horse manure and have planted a garden.  We’ve watched it rain and rain and rain and rain again.  We’ve used the small chain saw to cut wood for our future fire pit and we’ve collected wood scraps from Stella.  Also, Sharon has built wooden bins from Stella scraps.  We’ve killed poison oak and ivy and thicket.  It has been great fun when John has given Sharon and me rides in the bucket of Lurine’s front loader.  One day when John was giving Peggy and me a ride, Peggy said, “It’s feels like I’m on a ride at the State Fair.”  I asked, “The ferris wheel?”, Peggy said, “Yes!”, and we commenced swinging our legs back and forth as they were suspended and dangling in the air.  We’ve climbed in and out of Stella what seems like a zillion times, each time as excited as the very first time we were able to walk on her subfloor.  Stella has stairs leading to her attic now and Oh! My! God!, what a fantastic space the attic is!  Trevor visited us this weekend and I couldn’t wait to show him the attic, it’s so big, bold and beautiful up there.  I mentioned to Trevor how great a nursery a portion of the attic would make.  John said it was all Trevor could do not to trip and fall as he with haste left that portion of the attic.

I’ve fallen more deeply in love with Stella with each driven nail.  She is beautiful.  She stands graceful and majestic in the open field where we once grew strawberries, tomatoes, corn, peppers, beans, okra and such.  She has not blushed or flinched or dismissed our cat calls.  Oh no, she just keeps getting better and growing more beautiful.  I can’t wait until she opens her doors wide to us and says, “c’mon in, make yourselves at home!”

Last of the trusses

Attic

Don’t forget to visit the photos section and see all the pictures of Stella being framed – http://leehallfarm.com/foto/index.php/The-Frame?page=1

If a tree falls in the woods, does it make a sound?

When I’m there to hear it, it does.  There have never been very many trees on Lee-Hall Farm.  It was a produce farm, not a tree farm.  Storms over the years have left the farm with fewer trees than existed when I was growing up there.

There were two Sugar Maples I loved and one I didn’t realize I loved until the work began on constructing the new house.  One maple is huge and although the wind and former crowding has caused it to list a little to the west, it is a beauty.  One maple was planted with a teaspoon by me when I was pre-teen or ‘just turned’ teen, in the front yard in the heat of mid-August.  I gave it daily drinks until it grew and grew.  When I married and left in 1981 it wasn’t huge, but it was well on its way.  The last maple, the one I’ve come to favor, is another huge maple that has taken a beating from several strikes of lightning and has given valiant effort to keep on ticking.  She has been named Marjorie and has become my rescue tree.

The more I had vantage point from the field looking toward my parents’ house, the more Marjorie seemed to call my name.  She was surrounded by weeds, weed bushes and weed trees and had poison ivy vines acting as parasites.  With the help of a life long friend, Mr. George “Bubba” Long, the weed growth was removed from around Marjorie’s base leaving her to proudly stand and shout (if literally she could), “hey, look at me, I’m gorgeous!”  I chose not to take the advice of those who offered it saying, cut it down, cut it down and instead called in a tree surgeon.  I’m grateful to Bubba for helping me save Marjorie even though he felt neither time nor money should be wasted on her.  He’s a country gentleman and a true friend through and through.

I would have the surgeon remove the deadwood from Marjorie, trim the other huge maple we named Bart, trim the Carolina Pine we named Homer and take down another tree yet to be mentioned, Mama’s Pecan tree.  The remaining maple, the one I planted with a teaspoon, would be taken down when my parents’ house was demolished.  Sadly, my sister, Sharon, had told me the tree had died.  Sniff, sniff.  No kidding, I was sad, I had  planted and nourished that tree!

The Pecan tree had become what appeared to be a favorite pecking ground for what I think was a Ladderback Woodpecker.  Sharon and I were very sad to make the decision to take down the tree, but the risk was too high to let it stand when we did not know how damaged it had become from insects and the woodpeckers.  The Pecan tree had had more lives than a cat.  The tree was one Mama greatly desired and came from her home state of Alabama.  She had dreams of making pies with fresh off the tree pecans.  Trouble was, one or the other of my sisters kept running over it with the lawnmower or a car, but Mama’s Pecan tree kept bouncing back and grew until it would inflict damage on any lawnmower or car that even dared to mess with it.  It grew defiant as if standing there with hand on hips saying to approaching motored contraptions, “hell no.”  As mentioned in another post, Mama’s Pecan tree will give us one more life as either firewood or as smoke chips for barbecuing.

The Carolina Pine was planted by Sharon.  I never liked the tree and mistakenly thought Sharon loved it.  When I asked Sharon if it could be given a ‘hair cut’, she said it could be taken down for all she cared cuz she hated that tree.  Coulda knocked me over with a feather.  Surprisingly, the Carolina Pine, the one both Sharon and I hate, dresses up pretty nice.  The ‘hair cut’ did him a world of good.  I’d go so far as to say he adds a bit of nice character to the lot.  John dubbed him Homer.

This brings me to the maple I planted years and years ago.  Turns out she hadn’t finished her living.  Lo and behold, one day she appeared dead as a doorknob and the next day she’s budding and sprouting.  Sharon, John and I did the best we were able at giving her a ‘hair cut’ and therefore another lease on life, and so, it seems appropriate that she be named Lisa.

I hope Marjorie, Homer, Lisa and Bart flourish with their new leases on life and that it can be said about them that “they play nice with others.”  We plan on several new plantings for the property.

Just like Roger Rabbit, our house is being framed!  Woohoo!

I have never had a house built for me before and thus far in this process have had some erroneous preconceived notions obliterated.  For example, I always thought the frame was completely vertically constructed, *always*.  Not true.  The framing subcontractor for our house horizontally built the walls that were erected today (I love that word).  The studs, the windows framed out, the Tyvek, everything was put together on the subfloor and lifted into place.  Boom, a so called pre-fabbed wall up in seconds (or so it seemed).  Maybe all or many, many are done like this, but I don’t think so because I’ve driven by and seen too many framed skeletons get their walls and then their walls get the Tyvek or whatever the builder is using.  The builder was on site today and I mentioned my amazement at the process, even down to the Tyvek.  His rejoinder was, ‘it is called House Wrap after all, not House Flap.’  Made me laugh out loud cuz I have seen Tyvek flapping in the wind on a few houses being constructed.  The Tyvek on this house is not moving, I tell ya, not nary an inch.

Later, in the early evening after John and I had had our dinner and the framers had gone home to their own, John and I returned to the house with a ladder.  We snuck into our own house like neighborhood kids trespassing to check out the new house on the street while wondering if there was going to be a “new kid on the block” living there, would it be a he or a she, a cool kid or the opposite.  We walked the subfloors, peered out the two thus far framed windows and enjoyed the roofless panoramic view.

It’s a great house already!

April Fool’s Day 2013.

After all we’d been through to break ground on Lee-Hall Farm, I was going to do more than “take names” if we didn’t get to break ground on our second attempt.  April 1st is my little sister’s birthday.  Peggy’s her name and throughout her young life we played jokes on her and the April Fool’s Birthday jokes we played on her were seldom nice.  One year, when she was very young, we had her convinced she was not real, she was an April Fool’s joke and because she would not be here on April 2nd, she’d best enjoy the day to the hilts.  She was the baby, not just the last born, but a cry baby to boot.  We so deeply convinced her that she was an April Fool’s joke that she wailed so which drove us all to pleading with her hush up and our not following through with the joke.  Miserably for us, it was harder to convince her that she being a joke was the joke.

Anyway, I was worried all the April Fool’s jokes would catch up with me on dig day and ground would not really be broken.  However, I stood in favor (or maybe it was John) and the first dirt was lifted from one place and set in another.  Oh Happy Day!

It was a very interesting experience.  It had been explained to us that because the ground was still soft in areas giving access to the dig location, out of the ordinary equipment would be necessary for our foundation.  And of course, the $7,000 driveway also had been necessary.  The cement trucks’ weight could not be withstood by all areas of the foundation hence a pump truck would be needed.

It was educational and quite fun to watch the process and of course, it was exciting as all get out!  We have been so fortunate throughout the process of having the best subs handling different aspects of the building process.  John and Sharon have been taking pictures to share with others, especially with family and friends in other locations from us.  John and Sharon have been particularly kind with our feminine audience by providing pictures to drool over enjoy of long, dark lush lashes, bulging biceps and 6-pack abs.  They’ve all seemed quite satisfied and grateful.

I love dirt!  I especially love dirt being moved from one place to another so that our future home can get underway.

May God bless this home and my this home know how much it is wanted and is loved!

Nearly every post on Lee-Hall Farm could begin, “The long awaited ___________.”, this post is no exception.

The long awaited driveway, long awaited because it would lead to the future garage and house and it would mean something, anything, any action at all was beginning.  After a very rainy start to 2013, the driveway was finally being cut.  Since January 1st there had not been 10 days in row without rain; there hardly had been 7.  I believe the water numbers were 12″ of rain by the end of February and 4″ of rain or snow during the first 10 days of March.  The water resulted in every thing relating to the house being “long awaited.”

March 11th arrived as did equipment for cutting our new driveway.  The existing driveway would be used until just before the existing garage.  Just before the existing garage, the driveway would make a slight left turn to head toward mid-field, about 3/4 of the way toward the back of our lot, to where our new garage and new house were to be dug.

John and I never thought we’d find the digging of a driveway so exciting, but we did because it was ours and because it was like a long overdue birth.  It also came with a cost.  Due to the exceptionally wet January – early March, the driveway had to be reinforced to enable the heavy trucks, especially the cement trucks, to get to the building site.

Daniel, the excavator who cut the driveway as well as dug the foundation, was amazingly skilled.  The excavator was like an arm and a hand under his direction.  Six truckloads later of #3 rock, several truckloads of crushed asphalt and several thousand dollars, we had ourselves a driveway.  At long last!  It felt like we had our very own yellow brick road.

We had purchased a lovely bottle of champagne to cork when we broke ground.  The driveway now laid on the land and the champagne bottle still laid in wait.

After four long months, creation work began on our future home.  It began with unearthing the driveway on March 11, 2013.  It was an overcast day on the outside, but inside John’s and my hearts and minds it was a bright and glorious day.  Anticipation wasn’t over, but it was at long last on its way to reaching its end.

I don’t know how long the farmland has existed and to my knowledge it never had a name.  The farmland has now been named because I have returned to make it my last dwelling place – hopefully – after having been away for just over 31 years. I named it Lee-Hall Farm to honor my parents.  Lee is a shortened version of my father’s first name and Hall is my mother’s maiden name.

My parents moved my four siblings and me to the farmland in 1964.  I can’t remember the month, but it likely was a summer month, maybe late June after school began its summer break.  When we moved there, it was a ~6 acre plot of farmland on Georgetown Road, a couple miles south of Hanover Courthouse.  It had few trees and was flat as could be.

Prior to the move to Georgetown Road my family had rented and lived on a very large farm known as Plum Tree Farm off Cold Harbor Road in Mechanicsville, VA.  Plum Tree Farm was a sprawling farm with twin ponds separated by a dam.  We had all sorts of farm animals.  I believe our horses were our favorite of the animals along with one pig named White Boy.  We were all saddened to leave Plum Tree Farm, but were anxious to have a home we owned rather than rented.  We took three horses with us to Georgetown Road and some chickens, but soon sold them as trails and other riding areas were nonexistent in comparison to Plum Tree Farm and because the land was not conducive to chicken farming.

After selling the animals, the land at Georgetown Road was purely produce farmed.  Our crops included tomatoes, peppers, corn, watermelon, cantaloupe, strawberries, okra, squash, many varieties of beans, potatoes, yams, onions, cabbage, lettuce, winter greens and more.  My father also planted a small fruit orchard and grew grapes and berries.  In my youth, I never fully realized or appreciated the luxury of being bathed in abundant fresh produce.  Because I am a former farm girl, I love fresh produce and am somewhat snobbish about quality.

I left the farmland at Georgetown Road in 1981 when I married.  One of my sisters inherited the farmland from my mother upon her death in 1998.  With my husband’s death and my sister needing to sell the land, I purchased the farmland in 2010 and have returned to Georgetown Road to make it my new home, a home I will share with my sister and with my new companion, John.  Without John’s help, I would not have been able to return in the manner of my wishes.  John has provided both moral and financial support as well as has shared my hope for building a retirement home that will accommodate our ever changing physical needs as we advance in years.  He now co-owns Lee-Hall Farm with me.

John and I intend to journal the changes made to Lee-Hall Farm from the laying of a new driveway, to the construction of our dream retirement home, to the changes to its landscape.  I look forward to becoming a farm old lady, my updated version of farm girl, and to teaching John about farm life.  He, however, looks forward to brewing craft beer and enjoying the night’s black rural sky.  Our progress can be followed here at leehallfarm.com.

Sign commissioned for Lee-Hall Farm from Danthonia Designs, Australia (www.danthoniadesigns.com/)

It was a cold morning in January that had been anticipated for months on end.  January 23, 2013 was to be our dig day.  Mist exited our mouths not simply because our breath was warmer than the outside air, it exited because it was burning with excitement.  We were about to birth a house!

We were to meet our builder on the land at 8:30 that Monday morning.  Upon our prompt arrival, we were delighted to see that all initially integral parties were already there.  John was about to experience his second “Big Dig” (he’s from Massachusetts – the Big Dig), I my first.

With all the rain that had fallen from the sky since the start of the New Year, the dig did not happen.  It was more the Big Sink, literally.  The excavator sunk so far into the mud that instead of digging with the front arm shovel, it was used to push and lift the excavator from the sinkhole in which it found itself.

John and I were too despondent to stay until the excavator was reloaded onto the flatbed and driven away to await some future Big Dig in March.