This month I'm living on a construction site.
It's hardly the idyllic summer I'd envisioned - there are backhoes, mountains of old tires and a gaping hole where I'd pictured chickens and alpaca and an herb garden.
There's an enormous pit behind the kitchen where Peter and his crew are laying the foundation for a garage. It's something of an archeological dig - Peter has uncovered a collection of glass Coke bottles and half a car.
The barn is still upright. Pat and Charles have spent hours removing and separating the contents - motors, metal, hazardous waste (fortunately not too much of that) and everything else.
The barn removal company we contacted in the spring have failed to show up so, with the insurance company hot on my heels, I'm busy contacting anyone and everyone I can think of to get the structure down by the end of the month.
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