Post-fishing staycation

HL took dad on their annual fall fishing trip last Friday and they got back yesterday, a day early. HL couldn’t hack life with dad any more and needed at least a day of vacation on his vacation. They caught a lot of fish. I was going to post a picture.

This spring and summer have been brutal and I haven’t had time off from dad since I was in London in January. The workload and my gradually abating energy have cut me off from a lot as in the last two months I have lacked energy even to interact with almost all of my closest friends. So this was actually supposed to be a post about how my life and mood change when dad is not here vs. when he is. I was planning to reflect on things I could do, in this weird situation where neither of us can really go out, to give each of us more space. I was making a list.

When this morning one of our ongoing questions resurfaced.

Long-time readers (I think) know the story of dad’s house — he built it for my mother after he was discharged from the army, with my grandfathers and uncle, on 4.25 acres on the corner of a cornfield. At that time there were three trees marking the boundary of the field. From 1970 until about 2000, they planted trees like crazy — a minimum of 30 per year. And so they achieved the rarity of a wooded lot on the edge of a cornfield. As the farmers along the road gradually sold out, people started moving in, most on unwooded quarter and half acre lots with houses made out of ticky tacky. The school district became gradually more desirable, and more people moved in. But the trees grew at a faster rate and so we live in our little idyll without much visual contact with the outside world. This my parents did by design.

Civilization has caught up with us, though. The Town is incorporating as a village, and they count our road as part of their “urbanized core” (which is a drastic overstatement, but whatever). They want to widen the road and add a bike lane, an intermediate line of trees, and a sidewalk. This will come at the cost of most of the trees in front (not the elm in the mid-ground of this photo, but the whole line of trees behind it). They’re outside of the right of way, but their root systems are in the right of way and they are too mature to be moved successfully. Thirty-plus years of planting and another twenty of overgrowth from benevolent neglect will fall victim to the town planner.

As if that weren’t enough (losing most of the front trees and gaining 400 feet of sidewalk that will have to be shoveled after every snowfall), in exchange for the space they will cover with concrete, they need to provide equivalent land that is not impervious to rain. This turns out to be really complicated due not only to the law — we live close enough to an airport that they have to cover any area with materials that prevents migratory birds from nesting in it — but also due to the settlement situation. Essentially: the town burned out their property claims with the right of way, and any additional land they take for retaining pools will have to be bought and paid for. Nobody wants to sell. There’s also eminent domain, but they don’t want to get involved in an expensive court case. If we’re going to lose all the front trees, we sure don’t want to lose all the side ones, too, so we told him we are also uninterested.

The town engineer was out here a few weeks ago to explain the situation to us (we already understood it), and as he was preparing to leave, he said, “Just to make sure I understood correctly: you have no interest in selling the side of the property for a retaining pool.” I said, dryly, “You can take the whole thing off our hands for a cool half mill, cash.” HL said, “We might consider $450,000.” The engineer said, “Making this lot into a combined park feature / retaining pool is definitely an attractive option. I can take that to the town board, if you’re serious.” HL looked at me. I looked at HL. I said, “We would seriously consider a serious offer.”

We walked back into the house, and I said to HL, “I was joking!” HL said, “Me, too.”

This morning they called and they want to send an appraiser.

Jeez.

~ by Servetus on September 17, 2020.