I hear that John, Dario, and Andreas, the three pianists who are now doctoral students in music at IU and who have moved into the new DeKist house, have actually managed to get the dusty old piano out of the garage and back into the house.

They are determined to fix it (some kind of structural problem), since it does have a wonderful (though of course out of tune) sound. Haven’t gone over there to take a pic  yet, and maybe will wait until they have their first piano concert in the living room.

Meanwhile, we are still initiating them to the ways of the Green Acres Village, and for this Tuesday’s work party, Dario was also present (on the right, below; John on left, Andreas in middle). The goal: to make another tomato bed, ready by spring 2018. But first, they had to dig out an old garbage can that had been there full of cat poo (now composted) from Leah’s cats. That was quite an ordeal.

Rebecca comes to check on their progress, Sam behind her with a wheelbarrow — he was cleaning up the back of the Overhill house — overgrown, with stones and old wood.

Okay. Now put down cardboard, which as she explained to Dario, who wasn’t here last week, will compost over the winter, along with the wood chips.

After the cardboard, then what?

Oh yes, just like last week, we’re both making a new bed and gradually whittling down that gigantic load of chips.

Done!

Meanwhile, check out the first tomato patch, next to the newly chipped bed. I asked Rebecca why the tomatoes are growing so well this year in a brand new garden bed. Usually it takes three years before full-on production. She reminded me: this was the chicken yard up until last fall. All their poop fertilized it.

Haven’t heard one word from Dan and Logan, even though they promised to stay in touch on their epic three week drive in a rental car to the west coast. So, this morning I sent a plaintive text, “please,  just one pic from the wandering troubadors!” Dan responded right away, from, he said, Cannon Beach, Oregon. YES! Thanks, Dan.

P.S. While I was sitting in solitude inside during the 95% solar eclipse over Bloomington, Rebecca and Sam were sitting outside on the back patio, in meditation. About ten minutes prior to the darkest period of the eclipse, Rebecca tells me that a warbler joined them, landing about ten feet away — “and sang and sang and sang.”