That could be the name for a heavy metal band (and maybe it is already!), but Mega Rot is what Eric found when he opened the knee wall on the south side of the house. Happy Birthday Eric!
What a lovely surprise! The tar paper you see through the hole is actually the tar paper that is behind the siding of the house if you are standing outside. Basically, what I am saying is, if I wanted to put my fist through the wall of the house, this is the place I could do it without any effort.
Eric has to fix this before moving on...
From the hammer in this photo, you can get an idea of the scale of the hole. Eric cleaned everything, and using our small circular saw, straightened out the ragged edges in preparation for the rebuilding. I am not sure exactly how Eric is going to repair this, in fact, I am not even sure Eric knows how he is going to repair this, but I will be sure to let you know with a blow-by-blow account.
On the bright side, spring is right around the corner, the days are getting longer, and the geese are overhead and in the fields, enjoying last years' corn. The Robins and Red-winged Black birds are back, but the swallows' return is still several weeks away. It might have been my imagination, but one field had a tinge of green today.
The fields are still too wet for walking, but I did a little foray with Cooper to test things out. By the time we got back, the dog was ready to be hosed down, he was that wet and muddy! I think we will have to wait another week or so before resuming our regular walks. And on a totally different note:
The Howarnator is so funny. Sometimes, he likes to sleep with all of his paws and tail tucked in beneath him. Our blobbular cat, sleeping happily on his sheepskin, dreaming of squirrels and birds. Howie looks like he needs a diet, stat, but he's all fur. In fact, he is the most unmotivated cat when it comes to food; all the others run to my side when I go in the kitchen, waiting in anticipation, but The Nator just sits on the back ledge of the couch and looks at the desperation of BobCat and Schatzie and Baby Grey with disdain. Those poor souls, he must think. No, The Nator comes into the kitchen, sits below the drawer that holds the cat nip, and meows his little demand. The meow comes out sounding like this: Ack mack. That's the cat nip call. He's my little junkie, what more can I say?