The Sunbane is real. No one with sense is an unbeliever, and there will be no White Gold Wielder.

Obscure literary reference of title is of no consequence, of immediate consequence is global warming via human impact crushing the  ecsoystem at bottom of the post._DSC5557
Xander loves the ranch house because: KILLZ
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The Feller in a springbox.

A few days before heading out to Montana I thought I had a new solution for shutting off the water at the springbox. Further boosting my idea was a realization that I could drop a ladder into the tube to access the pipe, rather than cutting myself off at the waist to dangle upside down underwater. This new method only requires one rubber boot to slowly fill with icy water. It also allows me to think right side up, and so realize that none of my bright ideas are going to work. A cork in the pipe would be a better solution. Now I have an idea of how to shut off the water, as well as snorkel an air line in for draining the system of water all the way to the house, but that will take a whole different collection of things that may/may not work.

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The Feller’s water turnoff of a few years back failed, and the new solution is no-go. Dang.

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The old Mustang Paddock gets cleared with a last full pickup load of junk to the dump.

Another day for the full respirator and watching mice race for cover. 50 years of junk being piled onto junk, with three summers of removing huge steel artifacts down to a final pickup load and raking, shoveling, sweeping. Next I move all the storage from the log ice-house up to here, so no more smacking my head on the low door!

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The lawn was overrun with bindweed, so mowing was put on hold while weed spray took effect.

Dave came up with his weed spraying 4-wheeler all set to spray down the yard’s explosion of bindweed. The 4-wheeler had needed a jump-start, so it had to keep running; I thought about ducking back into the house for the respirator and gloves, but just jumped on and started spraying. That night I awoke in a fever-sweat feeling like I had food poisoning, but without the usual projectile problems. So, just straight poisoning then. Right. The yard. Stupid Feller.

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The yard is ready to host a picnic.

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Stanley helps E & I test out the Picnic zone, for a bigger fun picnic with relatives on Saturday. I’m guessing it is the first time the place has hosted a family party since the 1960’s.

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I brainstorm a solution to seal off the basement from critters.

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E helps with some cutting.

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This panel sleeves in at the drop-angle of the door. Eventually.

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Dense wire screening blocks scrabbling critters.

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A few more times of closing myself in there and thinking like Xander before critter-proof.

Our bedroom window is at the L side of the frame, so we were front row seating when the Packrat tried to get in and failed. She returned later in the night and failed again. I checked the next morning and saw that she had built a little nest of willow leaves right up next to the blockade; inside on the top step I saw where her trapped kits had tried to chew their way out. A family tragedy? Be more like Xander, sissy.

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Broad Valley fire greets us on our return to Utah.

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The fire is miles long and will burn for weeks.

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Stanley asks us if we realize we are driving into a fire?

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Deja vu of the day we left town with Antelope Island on fire, as well as our fire day at the ranch.

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Desertification and fires hot enough to sterilize the soil. Not like fires before the Sunbane.

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Xander and Stanley team power-nap for a recovery-day.

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