While making supper tonight (Spanish rice, tuna and lettuce salad), there came a rapping at the door. Our neighbour. “Is Travis home?” he inquired. And I knew what was coming.
The small shed. What are our plans for it, he wanted to know. “I’m blogging about it! It’s my blog project!” I wanted to cry, but somehow bit my tongue.
You see, though the shed and its contents are ours, (four gaffs and 16 mismatched articles of footwear included), the shed itself straddles our land and the neighbours’. Which was never a problem as long as the neighbours were all family, but we being imports from Town and Away, all bets are off.
The neighbourly representative this evening was polite. He plans to tear down the rotting shed in his garden, and thought he might replace it with a more modern variety on the plot our small shed now occupies (albeit entirely on his property). He wanted to talk to Travis about our plans for the shed, but I quickly informed him I am the woodshed authority in these parts. (I have a blog about them, which makes me an Internet authority, and that’s good enough for me). (Also, Travis wasn’t home).
We know the shed rests partially on his land, but there really is no way we can do without the small shed this coming winter. The larger shed is practically in ruins, while the small shed has a straight beam and walls intact. We do have plans for the large shed – plans to repair or even replace the rotten walls and floor besides. But until that project gets underway, the small one is essential to the well-being of our woodpile. (And anyone who heats exclusively with wood in Newfoundland knows just how important your woodpile well-being is).
And so. The small shed remains standing for another day, and hopefully another winter. Hooray! But good fences make good neighbours, and I had better not get too attached to the small shed. I know its days are numbered.