Trimming Grass and Weeds Around
Old New England Property
(Antique) Landscape Fixtures
The indolence of the... old chair... turning out to be “THOSE BOLDERS” scattered.... or are they very carefully... positioned... upon an old New England property... as... (antique) granite landscape fixtures...:
They (the original settlers) could have ‘moved’, ‘broken up’, or vanquished in MANY ways... “THOSE BOLDERS”... IF... they... ‘wanted to’. They had the time... and the task was, to their scale-of-task, nominal. Therefore their sit-on-them solution... equals the old colonial era... braced back with continuing arms... vase and ring turned ... New York style... Windsor chair... that a colonial homestead’s old attic yielded to my flashlight now SO many years ago...? They (“THOSE BOLDERS”) are... authentic colonial New England... seating furniture? Too? I ...found them... in the ATTIC of the LANDSCAPE of the... old New England property...
Upon it I did.
And I sit on those ‘sit on’ rocks.... just like I sit
In the old Windsor chair.
“Are not we ALL good FRIENDS now that we UNDERSTAND” what an old New England “chair”
I’ll keep “THOSE BOLDERS”
I’ll keep the Windsor chair.
I’ll continue down through the old ...forest
To check my “I’ll keep” of the old
Scrambled over a (stone) wall you say?
No...: No ...old stone wall... yet.
Went past the bottom of the old... cranberry bog.
(How quickly now... we... identify THAT as landscape fixture)
Then around the side of the old colonial property’s granite quarry.
Then ‘straight across’ the level ‘old pasture’ to be
‘Wading in’ to the “I SEE IT” old poke-up of the fore corner’s cap stone bold
GRANITE GRAY (the color) monument-ing UP above the “GOLLY” dense green of differential green
That is NOT the same as the other overgrowing green differential growings. Wading through I
TO the cap stone corner.
Then looking down in...
The jungle... an old New England jungle...
I see DOWN INTO THE BOTTOM of it TOO: GREEN JUNGLE GROWING
Not to my eye. Beautiful... this green growing
Displays it; the pit
With field stone fitted (puzzled out) walls and snakes
THEY ARE NOT WEEDS.
A human hand. NO... human hands. Many years ago for many years
Ago to never be forest again for THAT HUMAN HANDS
‘Soiled it”. IN FACT:
The soil is (HUMAN) different “THERE” so THERE grow THAT
Human Hands STILL.
Who cares for I do not see any “YOU” wading in. No... I never see anyone.
I do see that SAME old two... cap stones that “SOME KIDS (?)” “kicked” in...
To the bottom of the... pit.... years ago. Always I look at them... and then at the
Where from they ‘fell’. It is at the ONLY PLACE where a KID could ‘sit down’ and have just his FEET in front of him with them having nothing to do
Those two cap stones ‘in’.
WHO would ever ‘get them back out’
They are in the very BOTTOM
Of... THEIR... pit;
The cellar hole.
Anyway I see them all the time and nothing changes. So I look around after scrambling down into the pit ‘like always’ and I just six feet myself can see above the capstone mostly for the ...cellar hole... is but a hand dug four footer ‘mostly’ ‘cept for a here... and over here where... it’s... ‘almost five
And one half feet... with a beautiful on its top
Eight foot long quarried granite capstone.
“Just beautiful” that one... and flanked by six footers too
That were ‘quarried’ RIGHT OVER THERE. Fitted
“OH how about in 1752”... of an AFTERNOON they... ‘capped’ the last
Cap stone ‘in place’ and
Stood back to ‘admiral’ before they ‘tunk’ the sills ‘in place’ ‘on top’ ‘before dark’.
A day’s work.
Tim came up beside me while I was looking down in one; an old cellar hole... that I had just been shown. He... he said quickly... would have long ago ‘snaked those’ cap stones on THAT old cellar hole’s cap... “If I KNEW THEY WERE THERE”. He “WAS SURPRISED” he “hadn’t seen ‘em BEFORE: DRIVE BY HERE ALL THE TIME. The well was still capped too “DID YOU SEE THAT?” he asked me. So I’m at the crossroads.
That son of bitch is gonna BUY THOSE in the next fifteen minutes. The well’s full of water. “THE TREES” in and around the cellar hole are “GONNA HAVE TO BE CUT” to “get a RIG in there”.
“BEEP, BEEP, BEEP” “YEAH THEY MAKE US DO THAT. You can shut it OFF. If I’d ah been SNAKING these you’d NEVER HEAR ME. Course.. those TREES. I’d have to... WELL... if I’d GET IN at that BACK CORNER. None of the (valuable old hand made antique) BRICKS are there. LONG GONE HUH.”
There is a pause as we stand together looking down into the cellar hole’s pit.
“NOT ANY chance YOU want any of THOSE COULD I...” he trails off and turns his head to, hopefully, turn MY head and ‘catch me’.
“Don’t want ‘em.” I say.
“That’s ah... NOT THE SAME THE WAY it was a FEW YEARS BACK. You know that.”
“I never did any of it. Don’t like the people and they won’t pay enough.”
“WELL... I’ll give ‘em to HARBOR BOB and let him DICK ‘EM. I’ll be home for dinner if I DO IT RIGHT. WET by that WELL. I’ll PLANK IT FIRST.”
Two days later the site was a mud hole, the trees were cut and hauled, whole, to one side, the well site was just a pond now and
All the cap stones on the top of the cellar hole’s old hand dug and field stone lined ...pit