SAMARA MORGAN LIVES AGAIN

(IF THAT'S WHAT YOU CAN CALL IT)

Both of my readers might remember that two years ago I did a Halloween diorama in the front yard. Or they might not.

Anyway, that one was a collection of "Blair Witch" stick figures, about five feet tall with lighted jack-o-lanterns for heads. The school bus that passes in front of the house twice a day slowed each time, and the kiddies' faces plastered the windows each day. At least for a few days. I noticed they got used to it after five or six days.

 

This year, I needed something to pick up my spirits (sorry for the pun, but it IS close to All Hallows), so I decided to do another diorama. This time, the thing would change every few days, finally culminating on The Day of the Dead, November First. I've always regarded the First of November as the First Day of the year. Nothing of any real significance really happens after Halloween anyway. And I regard The First as part of that holiday.

 

I also hoped it would be scarier than the Blair Witch thing. But it would take a bit more work.

If you're not familiar with the rather creepy movie "The Ring," you should see it. That is, if you're not freaked by scary movies. Not a slasher flick, either. Ghostly and creepy.

My focus would be the central character, Samara Morgan, age six or seven. Or thereabouts

 

She died after being tossed in a well.

 

It took some time.

 

Then she came out.

I found an articulated child mannequin that could stand on its own, then found a wig. Long, straight, and black. It couldn't bend at the waist, though. I'd soon fix that.

It was important to make the hands grasp and fingers curl. This one did it, but not as much as I'd have liked.

 

She does do a good job of being scary, though.

I'd have to make her scarier.

 

Samara was tossed into the well in her night dress. Do you know how difficult it is to find a plain white summer nightdress in the fall? For a seven year old child?!!! Forget it! All is flannel and colorfully imprinted with  Disney characters. This one was in the Old Ladies' section at a well-known discount store. It had periwinkle flowers all over it, but they were tiny. I figured they'd bleach out. Again, forget it! This baby was colorfast. But once I went down to the pond and dug a bunch of mud from the upper end, the flowers seemed to disappear after a good soaking.

She WAS in the well for seven days, after all....

I doubt the drivers-by would see the flowers.

I had to cut Samara in half to get her into the well I would build. Either that or I'd have to dig a deep hole where the well would be. This is a Connecticut ridgetop, and the digging ain't easy. So the knives and saws came out. Strangely enough, her belly was full of shredded rubber strings and Chinese newsprint.

Stranger than that, the label on the mannequin said it was made in New Jersey. Hmmmmnn..

 

THE RING!!! Actually it's the bucket full of pond mud. Smelly, too.

 Now THAT'S what a little girl's hair tossed into a well for seven days (and many years after that, if you see the film) would look like.

Macabre sonofabitch, aren't I?

 

The well. I have lots of piles of flat stones around the yard. I imagine most of the past denizens of this farm know these stones. Now others will. BWAAAHA HA HA HA HA ha ha haHAHAHA!!!!!

 

Oh, yeah. Autumn.

 

First night. She's just emerging, grasping at the stones.

 

 

 

Three days later. She's climbing the wall. And boy, is she PISSED.

We'd had almost seven inches of rain since she started coming out. I need to soak her hair in the bucket again. Her fingers aren't as realistic as I'd like. I want them to grasp the stones. At least her fingernails are black. From scratching the stones to try and stay alive, no doubt.

 

Uh-oh! The little girl's got some purchase! Here she comes!

 

 

Emergence on the twenty-eighth.

Hard to photograph her when she's moving. And she DOES move more as All Hallow's approaches.

I didn't make her do this!!! I was running!

AAAAAAAaaaauuuuughhhhh!!!!!!

A MIXED YEAR SO FAR

One of my two readers has likely noticed my lack of posts. I thought it's time to 'splain.

It's been a year of frustration and scrambling to get back on my feet, and I'm standing on my hind legs again after eight months of ups and downs. Mostly downs, but hey, I'm up.

My three year stint at Early New England Restorations ended in early February when I was let go for 'lack of work'. The company is in the throes of change, and the employees are all looking at other opportunities. I entered the realm of the unemployed for the longest period in my life, and spent a great deal of time at the Preston Public Library using their internet to find work. I read some great books, went into an even more frugal lifestyle than before, took a course in resume writing that went a long way to getting back to work, and in late May I found a job. But the travel involved (along with climbing 28-foot ladders a hundred times a day) made me look elsewhere. The same company had an opening closer to home and with less ladder-climbing, so that's where I am today. No work of any significance was done during this time; looking for work is quite the career itself. I did spend a great deal of the winter and spring developing a couple of products I hope to sell soon, namely Antique Wood Crosses and magic wands. I figure if I'm going to deal with the Christians, I shouldn't ignore the witches and sorcerers. One must be fair.

Even though I did little to the Farm besides keep it mowed, continue to cut brush, destroy poison ivy, briars, and bittersweet (my main cash crops), I did keep busy on another restoration project. And trust me, now that I'm working and the weather will (hopefully) get cooler, I'm setting up for the final push on the five-year part of the project. The autumn months will see me moving wood piles, finishing the barn roof removal/rebuilding, and getting a roof on the garage/greenhouse. I'll cut firewood, finish the cellar floor-shoring, and get ready for Winter. Winter should find the kitchen and bath restorations completed, the electrical panel installed, and money put away for the roof, next summer's final Big Project.

Sounds like a lot.

So let's see what else got done this past eight months.

My 1998 F-150 came of age at 325,000 miles last winter, and since it can't pass Connecticut's stringent emissions inspection, I am riding on borrowed time with no registration. Two cylinders have burned rings, and though I've replaced everything else on the truck, it still needs a new engine. Three to four thousand bucks for a junkyard engine (installed) was a bit pricey when I was employed, and its a good thing I didn't get another vehicle while I was thusly employed; the note would have killed me after February.

But I knew the day was coming when I had to retire my truck to The Farm, so, as usual, I waited for something to fall into my lap while I waved my hands in the air, said incantations, and thought good clean thoughts of bunny rabbits and dancing caterpillars in lederhosen while singing jolly, mirthful songs loaded with ha-ha. It must have worked, because my friend Sher called me to report an old van I might be able to get for a few dollars. It was in the woods, covered with lichen. It ran when it had been parked eight years ago.

I figured what the hell, I'd go look at it. I'm an old Chevy Van Man from way back. My 1970 van Morganna Carpet Crawler (don't ask) has one million two hundred miles on it. So I took a ride out to Canterbury, about twenty miles from here, in late December.

Red

 

Holy Mother of God! It was a 1985 G10 with a hundred K on it! The lines were perfect! It had never been in an accident, the doors and gaskets were intact, and it had the much-desired short 110 inch wheelbase that made it the favorite of California surfers everywhere!

Granted, the rocker panels had some rust, and the exhaust system was beyond toast. The windshield sported a short, sharp hammer blow, and someone had carved an erect penis on the driver's side panel. Light lenses were shattered, as was the grille, and I was pretty sure the brakes, carb, and distributor had been lunching with the exhaust system.

I'd have to have it towed to John, my mechanic in New London, just to see if it ran.

 

I called up the attorney that handled the estate and offered him two hundred dollars, just enough more than scrap price. He bit.

It took until Spring to get it out, get it diagnosed and figure what it would cost to restore, and in the meantime, I did some work on the F-150 to make it run better (though it was and still is  still illegal).

Front View of Red

 

John got it started, found it ran fine, except the carb was shot. Surprise. They put on a new brake caliper (the rest were fine), new brake lines, rebuilt the exhaust system, built me a new battery tray, and gave me some great leads and advice. The guys at Columbus Square Auto have always been good to me. They put some used tires on it so I could drive it around my property as I restored it, and I couldn't wait to get it home. Why didn't I just have it brought to the house? Because they took their time with it, that's why. If I wanted it fast, it would have cost more.

 

There's a saying in Historic Restoration.

 

"You can have it good, fast, or cheap. Choose two."

 

If it's good and fast, it won't be cheap. If it's cheap and fast, it won't be good. If it's good and cheap, it won't be fast.

 

Thus my wait.

In the meantime, I became unemployed in the deepest depth of winter; February. I figured I should do something to augment my income once the weather got warmer, so I set up some spring jobs and got to work in the shop on making a few ideas I had brewing come true.

 

Since I had always gathered antique wood from my restoration work, I had made Antique Wood Crosses of many sorts. Now I turned it into a production business, with prototypes, patterns, and research into how long it took to make these things. And how I could cut the time involved to make them inexpensive enough to market successfully.

 

Good thing I installed that old wood stove in the shop last year; it kicked ass all winter. Fourteen degrees outside? No prob. Seventy-five in the shop, even without insulation or storm windows. I very much enjoyed putting the system together, making an idea into a viable business opportunity. I also did a great deal of research into markets while looking for work at the library. I even wrote the beginnings of a blog called "Antique Wood Crosses," though I can hardly keep up with this one. I attempted to build a website, but found that such an endeavor is beyond my skill. I make stuff out of wood, not bytes.

A sampling. Pictures do no justice for the things. These are antique cherry, wormy chestnut, and southern longleaf pine. All made from timbers that came from old buildings. The youngest wood is five hundred years old.

 

Then there's the wands.

Free-form Arkansas vine of unknown species. The stand is antique quarter-sawn oak from the Yale Boathouse Restoration, the supports are pieces of oriental bittersweet from the Farm. The little brownish-red button is cocobolo from Africa, and shows where the crook should be placed in the stand. The crystals on either end are Arkansas quartz. Also mined by me. This one is pricey. Free-form stuff is.

More popular and less expensive is this one, a turned wand made of African bubinga. The stand is antique cherry from a fortified house built in 1825 in Indiana, the supports again quarter sawn white oak from the Yale Boathouse. The left-hand crystal is six-pointed quartz from Miller Mountain in the Ouachita mountains of Arkansas, the right-hand crystal multi-faceted solution quartz from thirty feet below the surface of the flooded Jeffrey Quarry in Pulaski County Arkansas. The multi-faceted crystal draws the energy, the six-sider projects the energy. The user directs it.

I intend to get a website built for both types of items, crosses and wands, this winter.

These are wormy chestnut sleepers from Saint Michael's the Archangel Catholic Church in Pawcatuck, Connecticut, recently torn down to be rebuilt of modern materials. One of my pickers brought me these. Each is about ten to twelve inches in diameter and three to four feet long. There is some waste from the long-gone insects, but the wood is gorgeous. I thought the parishioners of the church might like the first shot at buying some of these crosses (one in the center of the group pic comes from this wood, as did the two little 'pocket crosses' below it), and so I sent a few to the priest and secretary of the church as gifts, offering a reduced price for the parishioners.

 

They never even bothered to answer, even by e-mail.

 

My Wiccans and Sorcerers are much friendlier, and have been corresponding with me about my wands.

 

Oh, well. Others will like the crosses very much.

My favorite watering hole in Stonington Borough, Dogwatch Café. I've pretty much said goodbye to the place, as it is closer to my old job than The Farm. I also can't afford to drink there anymore.

Red, finally delivered in May. Note the rhododendron blooming in the background. The tires are too small, but

they were free.

Needs a bit of TLC, but Red's game.

Stock as stock can be. Has the original AM radio. Too bad it didn't come with any keys. I had John and Company put in a new ignition switch. Would have liked the keys to the doors, though. They're a pain in the ass to replace.

The van came loaded with crap, as it had been used primarily for storage; a shitload of 8-track country tapes, some  broken furniture, and two surprises I'll bring out later. Very nice surprises.

 

A really GREAT surprise! At the bottom of the greasy pile of stuff, the door keys!

Amazing what a pressure washer can do to spruce up an old van.

Damn! The grille's still broken! Where is the Plastic Fairy when I need her? Oh, well.

I had plans for a new grille as soon as I saw this thing. I hate plastic. I once had a huge Ford Econoline Van built in 1977. The previous owner was a mechanic of the Caterpillar Road Grader line in North Little Rock, and he got tired of his plastic grille being knocked to pieces in the 'deer woods.' So he had some others on the line make him a grille out of diamond safety step and he created a wraparound bumper from 1/4 inch steel. My friend Jerry took one look at the thing and shook his head. "Man, you're gonna hafta dig human hamburger out of that thing if you ever hit somebody."

I liked the look of the thing; it seemed to come from a "Mad Max" film. For some reason, people moved out of the way when I approached in their rear-view mirrors.

And though I don't drive as aggressively as I once did (actually not at all), I really liked the intimidating look of that van, which was dubbed "The Chateau" by my friend Chuck.

It was painted flat black.

 

All cleaned up and ready for the prom. Despite the tar splatters behind the front wheel, the rotten rocker panel, and the penis carved into the paint on the upper panel. This thing was deep enough to gouge the metal. I smell ignorant rednecks...

 

In the meantime, I found a job. After wheedling my way into a different job in the company, I became the Building Superintendent of The Artspace Windham in Willimantic. This is a fancy way of saying I was the maintenance guy for an apartment complex. It is kinda cool, though, being built in 1857 as a thread mill; one of many on the Willimantic River, it still has a millrace directing water through it, and a new turbine has been built to generate a small amount of electricity which goes into the grid.

 

ArtSpace Windham. Forty-eight units. Made for artists, it has a ton of light, private studio spaces, and a gallery.

The Artspace Norwich, my other charge. Built before the civil war, it housed another fabric mill where civil war uniforms were made. Among other things, I imagine.

You must know that I only have this job so that I can finance the restoration of ArtSpace StandishFarm.

 

Oh, yeah. Back to Red.

I got a new windshield, another carb, and a distributor with a mechanical vacuum advance. This means that the box under the driver's seat that says "COMPUTER" can be abandoned. WTF kind of car computers did they have in 1985 anyway? I began sanding and patching, puttying and sanding some more. Sprayed primer where the rust had been. I took a page from The Chateau and decided to build a custom grille. But instead of diamond safety step, I'd make it from thin slats of horizontal teak, of which, I have a ready supply. Good thing I have a lot of varnish and a wood shop.

The more I sprayed it, the more I realized I would eventually do it flat black. It would still be "Red," though.

The bumpers will be bright red.

The body work begins. Bondo, Bondo.

 

Getting closer. Some rivets, some sheet metal, some fiberglass mesh...

Good thing I have sanders and a lot of sandpaper. You can see the Famous Disappearing Penis. Actually, you  can't! Good riddance. Damn front tire won't hold air. That's what I get for not paying for them...

Meanwhile, the summer got hotter and the weeds grew like...weeds. This is my woodpile, soon to become necessary. The days got shorter, we had a few cool snaps, then the nineties returned in early October. NOOOOOO!!!!!

 

Another coat of bondo, along with the tools of the trade. Meanwhile, I filled the areas around the lights and lubed the thing, changed the oil and coolant, put in new spark plugs and wires, and mounted the carb and distributor. Vacuum hoses soon followed, along with other rubber components.

Keep in mind that it is always far too hot to work on anything in the house at this time of year, and just forget the yard or outbuildings. But I made lists and plans. The cool of November and December, my busiest months in the restoration of the Outside of the Farm, was not far away. This creature had to be ready to register, paint and drive very, very soon. Other concerns would take over.

 

Meanwhile, my tomatoes came in. Late. VERY late. This is from late September. We had an extremely cool, wet spring, and summer didn't really get started until July. Meantime the deer found their way into the garden and ate my tomatoes to the ground in May. Good thing I didn't trim the suckers at the base; they became the actual plants. Now I'm swimming in plums, lemon boys, and  heirlooms.

 

Back to the Van.

Front end sanded and primed, as are the newly-installed light bezels. Parking light lenses and headlights installed. Almost like it can see. Only thing missing is the teak grille. That can wait. The cardboard strips keep the falling leaves from clogging the wiper wells. Note the jack under the front drivers' side wheel. Damn thing still won't hold air. The tire, not the jack.

 

Penis panel spot-puttied, sanded, and primed. Rocker panel final puttying. Spot putty is a quick drying, fine coat before the final sanding with 400 grit paper. This type is red.

The seats are original vinyl and are uncomfortable as hell. I'll change them in time. The light-colored  coating is the dried Bondo dust after a rain.

Other rocker panel. Much more difficult. Had to use rivets and sheet metal as well as fiberglass.

 

 Rear wheel well panel. No Bondo, just putty. It needed it.

I removed all the marker light lenses (broken, now replaced with new ones) to sand and prime the area behind them before final painting. I figured I'd remove the Chevy logo as well, but the nuts were unreachable. I'm too tired to do surgery. I'm going to tape off the logo to present the original Red paint in a small rectangle behind the logo. Lettering is VERY eighties.

A little ding I hadn't noticed, all Bondoed and ready to sand. Another on the side door, both latent. It's funny; I didn't care if this thing had dents or holes when I started. I just wanted it to run and carry me about. But the more I work on it, the more proud of it I become. Kind of like all other restoration projects into which I've delved.

Drivers' side rocker panel sanded and ready for primer.

Last bits before final ("Final," he said with a grin, knowing it wouldn't be) spot priming.

I'll soon post pics of red with lenses and the REAL final primer before I take it to my friend  Eric's shop. There it will get the final coats.

 

NEXT:

Forecast is for thirty six degrees day after tomorrow. Morning temps, I know. I walked the property today, looking at my Farm Projects, while the humidity kept my clothes from drying on the line and we almost hit eighty.

 

You know what that means... 

 

BACK TO WORK ON THE BARN ROOF AND TRACTOR SHED!!!!

 

YIPPEE!!!!