Tag: basements

Adventure at Julia’s House: Basement Saga

Shirleyjdietz3 Comments

Today it is quiet (relatively) at Julia’s house. For the last two days we have heard pounding and sawing noises in the basement. Often I would feel the floor vibrating under my feet. Gradually the large open basement has become filled with stud walls, and duct work ceilings in preparation for the new office/bedroom suite/gym/storage basement of the future.

I say “large, open” in the description only to indicate that there were no walls previously. However, the basement was, in fact, full. For several years it held things from my Florida house that were still dear to me. It held a great deal of Julia’s pre-marriage household, and her husband’s pre-marriage household. It held two refrigerators, and a large freezer, mattresses, furniture, tools and workshop, several exercise machines and weight sets.

I won’t say that Julia considers herself a “prepper” but she does shop sales for things she uses and the basement was where much of it got stored. There were two large shelf units full of canned goods, bottled drinks, boxes of snacks, cereals, and pastas. Two more shelf units held kitchen appliances that didn’t fit in the kitchen. Paper goods, veterinary equipment, clothing, blankets, holiday decorations and costumes, pictures and frames from the past, and more. To be honest, we all have had places like Julia’s basement where we store (or have stored in the past) these kinds of things. These are places things go to be forgotten.

Forgotten, until we have to find another place to put them. This coming week the drywall crew is coming to work in the basement and the dust from years of storage will be joined by drywall dust a’plenty. Julia’s plan for today was to get as much out of the basement as possible, to make it easier for the men to work and to protect stuff from the dust. Box after box went up the stairs to be deposited in the upstairs living spaces. Chaos and clutter.

The food has now been dusted off and shelved in the kitchen, and that is a good thing. There are some scary expiration dates on a few things and having it all in plain sight is a good reminder that it was bought to be eaten while it was still edible.

There are boxes stacked by the front door to be given to Goodwill. Many things will just rest where they are until it is safe to go back into the basement.

Stuff waiting for a ride to Goodwill.

There is an air about this beginning of the new year. Things are happening. It might look messy and discouraging at times. As I sit here writing, there is quiet talk going on in the kitchen as Julia and Kevin discuss. For sure, there is a lot to talk about here at Riverbend Farm – the basement remodel is only one of many projects under way.

But experience tells me that the outcome will be good. Patience. Discipline. Throw in some fun. Oh, and a baby, four kids, eight sheep, six horses, two ponies, two donkeys, three goats, three cats, three dogs… and me, writing about it all, when there is time (just sayin’).

Part of today’s work. “Not a prepper”

A to Z Family Stories: B for the Basement

Shirleyjdietz3 Comments

Cool. Dark. Smelling of wet earth and cobwebs.

It was the basement, or more commonly, “the cellar”. It was the place mom went to fetch a jar of green beans, or dad went to see if a fuse had blown, or something had gone wrong with the pump for the well. It was the place in my dreams, and sometimes for real, where we went when funnel clouds were feared and things started flying around in the wind outside. I had watched “The Wizard of Oz” religiously for years and knew the cellar was the place to be.

It was a dangerous place for children, or so we were told (until we were old enough to work at cleaning it). It was the cellar steps that scared our parents the most. The only access to the basement was outside – a cement staircase, worn and a bit jagged, descending down into the ground under our house. Retaining walls on either side were probably meant to hold a door that would keep little children from falling into the abyss, but I don’t remember when our doors disappeared or if they were ever there. I remember playing on the steps. It was a cool retreat in the summer. It was my pretend home where I “cooked” mud pies decorated with dandelions and put my dolls to sleep.

At the bottom of the staircase, was a heavy, ill-fitting door with an unusual latch. I remember worrying about opening it, and then worrying again about being able to get it closed. A door left open might be a nocturnal invitation to a skunk, or something bigger. Who knew? And of course, a small child, mistakenly left behind in the cellar might not be discovered for some time

The floor inside was dirt, uneven with cement scraps and piles of “stuff” that kids couldn’t identify. In one corner was old wooden shelving that held dusty jars of produce, canned and stored from previous years gardens. The other corner housed a pump on a cement block. It dripped water and the dampness and faint smell of mold permeated the room. We knew our water came from somewhere under the pump and whether or not it was working was always of great concern to our parents.

Stories of the cellar would not be complete without mentioning it’s most numerous occupants – the family Arachnidae opiliones, Harvestman, or as we called them “daddy long legs”. Somehow we didn’t fear them as we would a spider. Their long spindley legs made them look too clumsy to be vicious. They were interesting and I watched them often. Others were not content to watch and I’m sure some torture occurred during moments of childhood boredom.

I’m just sayin’, I remember the cellar. It was part of our world, our house. Not many of them left.

Our “daddy long legs” looked like this friendly guy