The jailhouse, that I've so enjoyed having in my yard all summer, fell over this week and broke in two.
"Fell." It was a windy day, but not all that windy. We had a hurricane and two nor'easters this summer, and it stood through all that.
I have my suspicions. Not that it makes any difference. Either way, it's just one more thing to make me sad. It's not just a crazy-looking, eccentric thing. It has memories attached to it.
I thought it very possible that the larger piece would stand, and that I would be able to wedge the smaller piece under for support. With much effort (I was hyperventilating for twenty minutes afterward. . . that thing is danged heavy!) I made this happen. But within a couple of hours it had fallen over again, causing more damage.
Can it be repaired? I think so. Can it be repaired by me? That's a good question.
For now, with the snow flying soon, all I can do is haul it up into the garage for the winter. But even that is not the kind of job that's going to be done in ten or fifteen minutes. With no time off from work, I've no choice but to let it lie where it is, all battered up and looking a bit like an odd sort of boat. It breaks my heart, just a little bit, every time I look at it.
It's not the first time this week I've had to ask the question, "How can anybody be so mean?"
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