I have way too many photos selected for this post...so I will have to see if I can pare down on them! 

This past Saturday, my long-anticipated truck restoration project had it's birth. A couple of real good friends made the trek from their home to ours to help this "mechanic-in-training" officially begin the project. Probably can't give you a real good "play-by-play" since this are a little mixed together in my head. I think once you see the pictures it will be clear that it was rather chilly! I will add that it was also raining nearly all day long...so it was a bit damp in the back of the barn.

Anyway, they arrived before lunch, and Katherine wisely suggested that those of us who were going to work on the truck not begin and get grubby before lunch...so we did a scouting job and then had lunch.

After lunch, we headed back to the barn...where Luke and I promptly addressed ourselves to the fuel tank while Andrew prodded around in the engine (I guess...I was a little preoccupied) and later hooked up a battery...before we all ended up underneath the truck...then working on the fuel line from the tank to the engine. By the time we got around to me sitting in the engine (it is actually an asset to be short sometimes!) the girls had gone in, so any pictures from that came off the guy's phones.

However, before I get into this any further...we made two interesting (and to me) surprising discoveries! First, the fuel tank is not the original. The original was a 30-gallon (according to the manual) and the schismatics Luke pulled up on his phone showed that it would have sat within the chassis, not bracketed to the outside of the chassis like this 40-gallon tank!

Second, the engine is not the original '42/'43 Chevrolet...but a circa '55-'58 Jasper. (And yes, I still need to look that up and see what more info I can find.) It is thanks to Andrew's research that we know that. Anyway...it sure made things makes sense as to why the manual didn't seem to be matching with what we were looking at!

Anyway, back to the fuel tank removal and clean up:

It was about here that Katherine and Abigail went in...but here are a few random shot s from the day: 

After getting the fuel tank back on, the guys cleared the fuel line from tank to sediment bowl...then Luke cleaned the sediment bowl and the fuel pump...

Unattaching the fuel line from the other side of the fuel pump, it was decided that because the copper pipe was twisted so bad up by the carburetor to just cut it off and put the old connector back on further down the pipe. That was an interesting operation to watch...

That old copper tubing got bent...and rebent...and bent again as Luke tried to eke out enough length to get it re-connected to both the fuel pump and the carburetor...which at last it made it...and between the all of us, we got it hooked up.

Then we tried starting her...and the battery charger whined...but nothing doing. 

Still, it was a decent days work--I think--and we all enjoyed it. There was plenty of laughter at any rate! 

Looking forward to the next time which will probably involve brakes....

P.S. Photo credits go to Katherine, Abigail, Luke, and Andrew

Yesterday was one of those days that seemed like two separate days.

The morning saw us nipping into town so Katherine could purchase her new "beater" violin. She already has two, but both are family hairlooms--one is an antique and belonged to our paternal great-grandfather; the other belonged to Granddaddy's cousin and is in need of some repair work. So, as you can see, wanting neither to get (further) damaged, she wanted a new one for reenacting. And...she got a pretty nice one that is essentially brand new:

When we came home, I fixed lunch before betaking myself out to mow. If you are guessing that something happened, you would be spot on.

I really planned on mowing more of the yard than got done, but that piece on the steering column that we replaced 2-3 years ago has failed again. I don't remember what the thing is called and I have yet to dig into the workings of the machine (may not even get to it this week), but I have a pretty good idea as to where to start. Still, I got the front/road done, and as that is the most important part, I'm not going to blow too hard. 

I discovered, while mowing, that some silly Killdeer has decided to nest in the driveway!! Goofy bird. If the cats don't get her, we'll see if the eggs get a chance to hatch before someone accidentally drives over them. I would have attempted to divert the bird from nesting in our driveway if I had had any clue she was doing it, but I was too late...and she has three pretty eggs laid. (Seem rather large for a bird of that size.)

Well, along and along, I came in and decided that I wanted to go shooting, so Katherine and I gathered our gear and headed out to our own personal range.

We were both testing out some new (to us) guns. I've fired mine a couple of times before, but am not sure I really want to switch from my revolver to a semi-auto. 

I shoot better with the revolver...it holds as much ammo (unless there is one in the chamber of the pistol)...and I am just a revolver lover. 

As both of us are out of practice we had some technical issues to deal with, but we ended  the session taking turns with my beefy .22 and shooting buffaloes at close range. She really actually won. Five shots, five buffaloes, the extra shot flipped an oil filter. Me, five shots, four and a half buffaloes (gave one a quarter turn), the sixth shot finished him off. Anyway, we had a lot of fun and I got my first real sunburn of the year.

By the time we had used up a small pile of ammo, it was time for me to think about making supper, so we moseyed in. I took one of those "how on earth did that happen??" falls while I was closing the back of the barn. Actually, I know it was just that the worn tread of my boot slid on the very smooth concrete, but one minute I was standing up, the next I was flat. Surprisingly, after an hour or so, I would hardly have known I had hit the deck. Lord saved me from anything serious (maybe it's really actually a good thing to be short! Not so far to fall!) I ended up laughing about it because I'm sure it looked funny--but no one was there to see it, so we'll just have to imagine how ridiculous I looked.

Life marches on...next thing on my list, finish yesterday's laundry. It ought to be dry by now...

Years ago, right after we retired from the Army, I boldly asked my Grandpa, "Can I have your old Army truck?"

The answer being yes, I became the proud owner of a 1942 Chevrolet. I have recently confirmed what my uncle once told us that it was an airfield fire-truck. Only the proper terminology is "airfield crash truck". 

In the post-WWII era the truck was modified from having a proper fire-engine-ish back end to a boasting a large white-painted wooden box. This was my Grandpa's beekeeping truck. I don't know (I will have to ask Grandma) if he built the box on it himself or not. I do know he purchased it in 1959.

Restoration to WWII-service configuration is not going to happen right off for me. I have no clue how much it will/would cost, but I know far more than I currently have to spend. 

Finally feeling that I may be well enough to be serious about this, I am hoping to start working on it this summer. I have already drawn up a list of things that need doing--starting with a battery and a brake job. Whether that is "just" bleeding them (something I have zero experience with) or something more major (I hope not!). I want to do the work myself, though I will doubtless be running to Daddy for help...even though I found and was able to print off a copy of the shop and repair manual.

Between pictures and research and help from a reenacting acquaintance (the gentleman in question is a practicable encyclopedia of WWII information!), I am completely convinced that she is indeed a 1942--only with a few 1943 features--like the dash. But, seeing, as I now know that a certain number sequence is the delivery date (December 4, 1942), that in all likelihood explains the next year model features.

I have GOALS of getting her RWWII ready for this year (clearly not 100% restored). In fact, Mr. Courter saw my FB post and personally contacted me to encourage me to bring her, no matter what she looks like! Talk about being somewhat flabbergasted...

​I love this event...and the people are amazing!

Anyway, back to my truck...I have a number of questions. The two most pressing ones to my mind are:
#1: HOW do I find out where my truck served? I did some poking this afternoon and came up empty.
#2: What was the original paint job's color? Was it the red I can see underneath the OD green or was it indeed Olive Green like the majority of these (or so I read)? I'd LOVE it if it were red (I have seen one colorized photo from 1944 with a red truck--up in Alaska) since that is my favorite color and vintage Chevy red is the best--but if it she needs to be olive, olive she will be--eventually.

Oh...and very importantly, I have to learn how to drive her. I'm fairly confident after reading the manual on top of what I already know about the mechanics of a manual transmission that I can without too much trouble learn how to drive a stick--even a beast of a truck like this one. 

Skimming the manual today after I printed it off, I ended up going to the internet for further descriptions of how internal combustion engines function and as of this evening, I understand better than I ever did before how vehicles go down the road. I still have a thousand things to learn, but each piece of info I tuck away helps. :)

Anyway...I'm excited. I won't say "stay tuned" because if I get started, you'll hear about it and if I don't you won't...and of course, this is an "as I can afford it" project.

The rest of the quote goes, "In search of El Dorado" (from the film "El Dorado")...but in this case it wasn't El Dorado I was after.

Anyway, to back up, yesterday saw the day I had scheduled for Gardening Day 1. The morning started with a quick three-stop run into our little town (post office, bank to deposit a couple of checks, and the gas station). Arriving home with my fuel, I unloaded it at the back of the barn, parked the car, and headed back to open the barn up wide.

Done with that, I hopped on the mower and mowed the top half of the garden area. I mowed fairly high so that the shorter dandelions would not be damaged too badly, except for where I was going to till.

I don't recall if this is only our second year of strip-tilling or the third. Either way, strip-tilling the top half of the garden was the task I had laid out for myself. Once done with the mowing, I greased the Bolens, hopped on and gave the thing a crank. Oh, it turned over, but it was clear it wasn't going to roar to life, even after being on the charger over night. Thankfully, this battery charger has this nice 50 amp jump feature (I've used it several times for various vehicles)...and when I got that set up, old Bolly rattled to life! (By the way, I gassed up first. It's not particularly fun, especially for me being so short, to put gas in the tank over that muffler when it's hot.)

Merrily on my way (and this was before lunch y'all!), I made the first pass. At the end of the row, following my usual routine when the field is planted (it got planted Saturday), I went to back up and do a multi-point turn around (the Bolens turns like a barge on the Mississippi...or an oil-tanker--whichever "meterpher" you prefer). Nothing. 

Reverse was non-extant. 

You have got to be kidding me! 

Okay, you're not. Why do we always have something go wrong with our machinery?

I wasn't hugely upset and decided that I would just have to bounce over the newly planted corn to get Bolly turned around and back to the barn. I also decided that I wasn't going to bug my dad with the problem unless I really couldn't figure it out myself. So I headed in to do a little research. (The internet is a gold-mine if you know how to dig right.) Locating a manual for a roughly contemporary dated Bolens yard tractor, I poked about looking for something that might be of help. I was in and out a couple of times (had to take pictures with clean-hands!) and someplace in here was lunch. After lunch, I headed out with a page printed from a manual for reference...

Fender removal was simple (and I am ever so thankful for that little red Sears tool set we keep in the back of the Suburban. It comes in mighty handy). 

​I compared my set up to the somewhat striated photos on the manual page and went to work.

I don't really know how long I spent tinkering, but I quickly figured out how the machine was supposed to work. 

When the drive pedal is pushed forward (with the toe), the forward jaw opens out (above photo) which, if my brain/knowledge is correct, engages a gear in what I think is probably called the gear box. When the drive pedal is pushed down (with the heel), it opens up the rear jaw (next picture), which reverses the gear (or some such thing). So, I may be a little sketchy on what exactly happens inside the box, but I did figure out that which side of the jaw opened corresponded with either forward or backward motion.

Furthermore, I was able to figure out, even without the help of the manual (though it confirmed my suspicions) that the thing (someplace in the manual, I thought it called it a clevis) in the next photo that is rather flat and kidney shaped was the culprit, more or less. 

The foot brake (which must be completely depressed for the engine to even think about turning over) is also connected to it (there at the rear is the foot brake bar's connection). There is a bar with an little "L" shaped end (you can just see it) that moves within the "kidney" determining the direction of motion. The Kidney is capable of some movement--which is where the problem came in. It had, somehow, since the last use of the Bolens gotten shifted ever so slightly, thus prohibiting the rear jaw to open wide-enough to engage the gear. It was an easy fix once I figured out exactly what I needed to do. (I didn't even need tools. Just some slight elbow grease--though I got more grease on me that the amount of elbow grease I needed.)

Before I put the fender arrangement back on, I cranked the machine (I was very careful, Mom!! I have zero interest in getting caught in a spinning drive shaft!) and using my hand, played with the pedal and ran it back and forth. Satisfied, I turned the tractor off, put the fender contraption back on, reattached the seat, crawled on, cranked up...and proceeded to spend the next several hours happily traversing back and forth tilling up the dirt.

I will have to till some more since today we pretty much filled up the ground I broke yesterday. But I don't mind. I like running machinery. :) 

And that was Day 1 and 2 of Gardening 2018....

This really is a tongue in cheek kind of post, but with, I guess, a dose of truth in it. 

Mowing like a (backyard) beekeeper requires, first, that one divest themselves of any remnants of a "keeping up with the Jones" mentality. Your yard is that...a yard, a pasture, not a "lawn" to be manicured.

Which leads to the second point. You have to utterly disregard how the neighbors are going to perceive you. "Dandelions...just going amok! Haven't they heard of Round-up??" (By the way, you will be greeted with a shotgun if you try to spray my beloved yellow weed-flowers. Spray 'em in your own yard. Over here, I'm propagating them. Seriously. Bees love them...and dandelion honey has such a delicate, sweet flavor!) There is also a bit of a jungle around the front of the house. Well, I'm just waiting for the Star of David to bloom. Once they are done, I'll mow it. 

Third, you will learn to dodge bees and clumps of flowers. This will result in wiggly, scriggly mow lines. If you want a checkerboard patterned lawn--don't become a beekeeper.

Similarly, you will just laugh when you see a low-flying plane and question whether the pilot thinks the idiot downstairs is mowing drunk. 

Lastly, alternate which parts of the yard you do mow...because you really don't want the grass to eat your property.

How to mow like a beekeeper: Mow the grass...miss as many flowers as possible...and ignore what the neighbors might think. 

Your crazy resident beekeeper,

It is finally beginning to look like Spring is actually getting here. But of course, as soon as I say that, it's going to drop off cold again here this weekend. (Literally.) 

Anyway, I took advantage of a beautiful sunny, low-60's temperature afternoon to begin the spring yard work. I started with the poor, mostly dead weigela out by the road.  

Some of that might not survive still, but that was all that had any life left in it. 

​Once I got done trimming, I collected the trimmings and the windfall linden branches and zipped them up the hill in the go-buggy. After dumping that load, I collected another load of windfall maple wood.

Poking around here, there and yonder, I discovered that various mints are peeking out, the bleeding heart is coming up, and joy of joy--DANDELIONS!!

Right, so there were only about an even half-dozen that I saw, but still...bee forage is a comin'!

Katherine hied out to plant the cherry trees that Mr. Y, a WWII vet from church, had given us.

I took my shotgun out with me, on the off chance that a Starling would show his pointy little beak. Naturally, true to form, I saw nary a one during the entirety of my time out of doors, but I decided to give my little break-action a mini-photoshoot of her own:

I have bees buzzing in and out of both hives (Huzzah!) I made up some syrup and put it out since it will be warm enough (day and night) for the next few days to enable them to consume the stuff. 

That's the outdoor report. Indoors, I am taking baby-steps towards conquering a few piles and messes that I have not been able to keep up with with my feet being broke out (speaking of which, they are look and feel the best they have since before they broke out in November).

I am still extracting the honey I took off the hive that died in January (I think it was).
I finally washed the honey bucket that had the Spring 2017 honey in it that I fed back to my little hive. It had been sitting on the table for weeks now. (Procrastination. And not feeling good. A combo that I really am trying to to address better.) 

I still need to vacuum the floor here to finish my to-do list for the day...better go do that....

Last week, while not a perfect week (none ever is), actually saw completion of "things". 

"You mean, follow-through?" 

Exactly. 

I made it my goal to finish, truly finish, a few things I had started weeks or even years ago. And I did. 

First, I finished off my new corset (that was the most recent project):

Then...I finished a pair of socks I had started several months ago. (No pictures)

And I finally got that last side and sleeve sewn up on that sweater I started in 2012; finished knitting the pieces to in 2015 or early 2016 and had mostly assembled in mid-2016. After all that, I'm not even sure how well I like it...

What's more, I finished up the baby dress I had started in February:

Then I scrounged up my blue CW wash-dress and added a few darts so that it now fits properly:

In between times I kept the fire burning, hauled wood, made as many water runs to the basement as necessary (we are looking forward to having the RO water run back upstairs one of these days), tickled the keys on the piano, and even hauled my cello out of the case for the first time in a couple of months. 

By the end of the week, I had also made a new petticoat (I need to put a tuck in it to shorten it up--for the third time. I apparently didn't eyeball that hem to perfection...) and gotten my new CW dress's bodice drafted and the mock-up cut out. I planned on stitching that up today, but I've been running on slow today--what with daylight savings time (what a joke!) and the snowy weather and haven't done much un-computer related besides making lunch, washing dishes, making two water runs, stoking the fire and hauling wood, and writing a letter. AND...now it's time to make supper! ;) 

Right, so that sounds like there was something really exciting that happened. Well, not so. It just wasn't a "usual" Saturday. 

I started out this morning making myself a list of things I wanted to see get done (so far, I've gotten all but one of those completed). 

First up was straightening up the living room. I wouldn't say it looks spotless, but it's certainly better than it was! I still have sewing stuff out, but at least it's not completely filling two chairs and spilling haphazardly onto the floor from the card table I have set up. There is something rather satisfying in taking five minutes and turning chaos into order.

I had two other main jobs slated for today (other than the usual Etsy, cooking, dishes, etc.): plant my flowers and go through the doll dresses.

I actually got started on the doll dresses first. I sorted them into "put on Etsy" and "not good enough" and then I took a break and betook myself outside. It it unseasonably warm for February (not that I'm complaining!) so I was comfortable with my sleeves rolled up past my elbows while I played in potting soil and flower seeds. I have to say, I think Snapdragons have the tiniest seeds of any plant I have ever played around with! Wow...and I though carrot seeds were small........

I planted a rather huge (for a greenhorn on flower growing) selection in the potting tray. A couple different kinds of carnations, dahlias, zinnias, celosius (?), two snapdragons, a couple others I can't remember...oh and some pink daisy. That's what I put in the trays. After that, I puttered around with the stuff that the packages said could be direct sown this time of year and poked those seeds in various spots. Yeah. Real organized. I did try to be tasteful in where I put things though. And out of the way of mowers. Oh well. I'm planting flowers for the bees I need to order...so I'm going to be praying that they come up and grow nice and bloom delightfully. 

I had a wonderful time getting dirt up my fingernails and playing with cats between time. It felt downright delightful to be OUTSIDE in the sun.

I came back in and after a good hand-washing, readdressed myself to the doll clothing. I went through and sorted it further into "lots"--which I then wrote down a piece of paper for quick reference when I begin to list them. (They all have "inventory numbers" which is quite helpful.) Since each Etsy listing cost $.20, I figure I might has well put as many outfits per listing as logically will go. Different styles paired together (I mean, stuff of the same style)...or color paired together. For instance, I have a 'Red Dress Lot' (four entirely different styles, but all with a red base) and I have a 1940's Style #1 (there are actually 4 1940's Style lots)--it only has two dresses in it, but it's the same style. I think I may have fun getting these listed. I also, naturally, have other nick-nacks and the like left to list too...but I might as well get these dresses up along the way. Some of them are still hanging around from 2012!!

I think I had better go get started on supper... ;)

I got distracted this afternoon when I went to the barn and cranked Annabelle, the green Ford, and the "Navy Ambulance Van". I got distracted for sure poking around my truck. Not my GMC pick-up in Florida...but my 1942 Chevrolet Army Truck.

I poked around, got in, sat behind the wheel, turned the key--which did absolutely nothing--mainly because I later realized she's not hooked up to a battery at all. I crawled up on the fender and peered into the engine, calling out to myself the various parts of the engine I know and am at least vaguely aware of how they function. There is some wiring that needs replacing for sure. 

Then, while waiting for the other vehicles to run a little longer, I went and I sat in a green plastic chair and just looked at the old girl.

That's when it hit me. I knew she needed a name (most of our vehicles are named, you know) and it came to me all of sudden and felt right.

Bobbie Mae.

Bobbie--because she was Grandpa's before she was mine and his name was Robert. He went by Bobby as a boy.

Mae--because I thought "Bobbie Mae" sounded like a nice 1940-ish name. Maybe something a feller would have nicknamed his ride--be it a truck or a plane. (I also had a great-grandmother on my dad's side with that name as her second name.)

Anyway, Bobbie Mae needs work--a lot of it. Like several thousand dollars worth, I reckon. Still...someday, I want to restore her to her former glory. And so...I day dreamed. 

I hardly think I'll be able to get started on her this spring like I half-seriously dreamed last fall...but it sure would be nice. I need to do reading, parts research, historical research...and learn how to drive a manual. :D 

Too many projects--and not a one of them galloping along with any speed. You'd think my projects were all astride an ancient nag...eh well. We'll have to see if a good night's sleep puts any pep back into that nag... ;)

Off to bed shortly,

You may be wondering why, as it is Wednesday, that I am writing of Monday's adventures. Eh...that's a story we'll get to in a few moments, so bear with me. ;)

Monday I worked some on getting stuff out of Savannah's room and back into mine--I pulled all my yarn out of the dresser that isn't going back into my room and packed it into several Vitacost boxes. Mmmhhhm...I need to knit a little more. (I recently sold a pair of socks via my Etsy shop, so I do actually move the things from time to time!) Anyway, between boxing up the yarn and putting it on my new shelves and arranging my hat collection on the same said shelving, that is about all I got done in the morning. Very sad, I know--but we are such terrible slow-pokes in the mornings!

Well, I drafted back upstairs some time after lunch and piddled about a little more til I decided that I would turn my attentions to my "foot-locker" (actually a covered wooden box). I planned, ever since hauling it north from Florida that I was going to eventually strip off the old covering and recover it...or something. "Well," thought I, "now is as good a time as any. I'm more likely to get it done if I do it before I put it back into my room."

Following this line of reasoning, I pulled it's contents out (costumes and various reenacting and/or prop gear) and hauled the greatly lightened box to the garage where I began pulling staples and tiny nails. After I took the hinges off, that is.

I whipped out my pocket knife and started cutting off the vinyl material. Almost as soon as I began cutting, I started to get just a little excited....

Let me step back a moment and explain that I assumed that Grandmother had covered this box in the early to mid-sixties due to the apparent age of a particular relative who had scrawled her name in crayon on the back of it. It clearly had been the kids toybox.

Anyway, as the vinyl came off, I discovered that Grandmother had first covered the box with newspaper and then the brown material. It was the newspapers that got me excited.

I don't suppose it was even so much the newspaper at first as the date on it. She had used portions of the November 1, 1953 edition of the Miami-Herald to cover this box. Notably, the sports pages and some ads.

1953.

Grandmother and Granddaddy did not meet until 1958. So--this box had been covered not only a rough decade before the time I assumed it had, but even before my grandparents first laid eyes on each other! Things like that kind of give me a variety of jitters. I suppose Anne of Green Gables would define that as a "thrill". ;)

I took pictures of most of the newspaper, thinking that some of my friends might enjoy looking at the old ads in particular.

About this time, I decided to go take care of the chickens in my normal evening routine. I'll leave you there for the moment and finish the box story. It was determined after Daddy pulled the cardboard out of the bottom and uncovered--mold--that we should just pitch it. Well, bummer, but okay. I'm all for getting rid of mold infested "things".

Anyway, back to the chickens. Some of y'all already know where this is headed, but another telling hurts nothing. ;)

I had already fed the layers and collected the eggs and moved on out to feed the meat birds. I cleared out the first tractor and bent my knees and back into the heave-ho routine. I had perhaps another three feet to go when the strap's s-hook slipped off the PVC frame (I've never had this happen before). Naturally, as I was in mid-pull, I went sailing backwards into the clover. I landed primarily on my right leg/side and that didn't hurt much. BUT (you knew that was coming, didn't you?) somehow, with the left arm all rag-doll floppy, I whacked my left wrist into the ground. My palm was facing the ground, but also tilted up a bit...rather like a shallow 'v' if you were looking at my arm and hand from the side. Anyway, the wrist hit first and as I rolled into a sitting position, I knew. 

My wrist had gone immediately stiff. 

It didn't really hurt, but I knew before I got to my feet that I'd just broke a bone for the third time in five years. 

I'm actually still in the splint they put on me at Med-Express (faster and cheaper than the ER--probably nicer too :] ). I go to see an orthopedic doctor tomorrow morning before lunch. I admit that I am slightly disappointed that I couldn't view the x-rays on my computer--wrong file type. I like looking at the x-rays so that I can really see the break--but I was informed that it was just the radial bone--clear across. I guess I must have bashed it just right...

SO...anyway. I'm just grateful that I cracked the ol' left wrist rather than busting the right one again!!