Super Moon in March

We catch our first glimpse of the so-called Supermoon after dinner and head home to the deck to do some moon bathing and hanging out. It is a balmy, wonderful night for a moon dance and a couple of drinks. I take my first moon shot at 7:17 p.m. on Friday, March 18.

Supermoon casting super moonshadows around 8 p.m. as our resident skunk, raccoon and muskrat listen to Pink Floyd and forage for food.

Yes, via CD. How old school. But how many of us also have this concept album as a cassette—or even vinyl? We reminisce about the fabulous concert we saw in November at the Meadowlands and look forward to seeing Roger Waters The Wall Live in Europe this summer. So that, my friends, is why we didn't spin the more obvious Pink Floyd choice, Dark Side of the Moon (which we saw three times in concert during 2006-07).

And then the clouds come in at 9:29 p.m., just as The Wall ends... But our night on the deck continues. This is exactly why we did the renovation in exactly the way we did.

I share some of the better Supermoon shots via Facebook and see what my Twitter timeline has so say about the event. Neil deGrasse Tyson (Director of the Hayden Planetarium and a Research Associate in the Department of Astrophysics at the American Museum of Natural History) tries to set the record straight: "Full moon Sat. nite. Rare? Once per month. Moon closer to Earth. Rare? Once per month. Both together? Once every 2 or 3 years... Last time was December 2008." So, not 1993... The truth doesn't reduce the beauty of the still-super-to-me Supmermoon.

I take a Supermoon photograph at 2:40 a.m., enjoying the reflection off the metal roof over the screen porch, and then get back into bed.

Supermoon Part Deux — moon rising over the lake. But brrrrr cold tonight (40 degrees F and falling), so we enjoy the event from the couch.

Bright and beautiful, the moon at 8:08 p.m.

Indulging in ongoing moon watching at 8:59 p.m., I quickly run out on the deck to snap a quick shot of the Supermoon...

...and even more quickly run back into the house to warm myself by the fire as Matt enjoys March Madness. (For me, my husband explains while crumpling up a mysterious bracketology-based piece of paper and tossing it into the blaze, this was a bracket-busting game.)

As with its Friday night predecessor, Supermoon II: The Lovenator is a social media event, as Facebook friends again post and comment on each other's photos.

High in the sky at 11:25 p.m., the moon fills our bedroom with light and draws me momentarily out on the deck.

Still 99 percent visible, the almost-full moon at 2:38 a.m. on Sunday, March 20, completes its trip across the lake and heads for the hills.

Shakira's She Wolf fills my mind: "Nocturnal creatures/Aren't so prudent/The Moon's my teacher/I'm her student."

"Enough lunacy," my shivering skin says, admonishing me for covering it with nothing more than a (super sexy [not!]) flannel nightgown.

As signs of spring, swans glide across the lake on March 20 at 5:36 p.m., the Spring Equinox less than two hours away.

A spring storm dumps more than seven inches of snow on us during Wednesday, March 23, as seen here at 10:48 a.m. as I work (diligently) from home. My "glass half full" side says, "pretty." My glass overflowing with winter weather side says, "enough already!"

What a difference a week makes: Saturday, March 26 at 4:09 a.m. the moon—reflecting off the grill and lake—is in its last quarter (per Moon Calendar site) and the temperature is below freezing.

Beer garden

We spent this evening at Starbrite Farm for Slow Food® Northern NJ’s Sustenance™ on the Farm Dinner. Or, as Matt calls it: Hippy Farm Dinner. (I wore my best tie-dye shirt. He reluctantly agreed to serve as my Arm Candy for the event.)

An al fresco fundraiser featuring “family style” dining with 98 strangers (Matt expected “88 lines about 44 women” by the Nails to describe the guest list), the threat of long speeches (totaling a relentless 63 minutes), under a tent in a muddy field (we had to regularly extricate our chair legs from the muck) during a hot, humid and buggy August night… what could go wrong?

Actually, excellent wine flowed with each of the five courses, plus dessert. Although the vegetarian option for the two meat courses looked comparatively akin to prison rations, it was all quite good. We had fun. (Luckily, Matt never noticed the underweight mustachioed hippy woman with the furry legs and dressed-so-you-cannot-miss-them hairy armpits.)

Farmer John told us about the travails of trying to grow organic vegetables. We identified. As gardeners, deer and ground hogs also thwart our efforts. Since moving to Casa de Roo in June 2000, we’ve learned that these critters welcome most plants we put into the yard as additions to their salad bar. Especially plants we ourselves consider delicious.

So a key element of our new deck is a potager. I had visions including espaliered apple trees; visions that exceeded our available “acreage.” We took delivery of our deck furniture on April 17. While the set ended up requiring more space than I envisioned when we placed the order at Max Furniture, the exterior living room is oh so comfortable.

On May 16, we hit Tractor Supply Company and found exactly what we needed: two galvanized metal feed troughs. The enormous containers fit one inside the other, like Russian nesting dolls, and we easily transported the set in my Rav4.

Our kitchen garden features a variety of tomatoes, herbs like basil and a few flowers to attract pollinators and add color. On May 17, we filled one trough and the metal planters we reclaimed up from our storage unit with organic soil. Every bag. So, off Matt went to Home Depot for more. He came home with (shudder) on-sale Miracle-Gro® potting mix. It smelled acrid, but soon off-gassed.

The organic plants look scrawny ... and have yielded delicious fruit since early in the season. The “juiced” plants became ’roid freaks, growing leaves like crazy and then collapsing. They took several rounds of staking and tying, and are productive, albeit difficult to harvest. Better living through chemistry?


We gathered our first two tomatoes on July 16 and continue harvesting these super-sweet beauties regularly. Then rain, rain and more rain fell, filling the tomatoes with water to the bursting point.

As the old saying goes: “If life gives you split tomatoes, make a cocktail.” So yesterday, I created a Bloodless Mary, dropping damaged Sweet 100s directly into a shot glass and topping it off with American-made Crop Harvest Earth Organic Cucumber Vodka. Matt made a Cucumber Crop-n-Tonic, garnished with tomato. (We had previously tried Crop’s tomato flavor, also excellent enough to drink neat.)

This morning we harvested 90 tomatoes, for a total of 731 small and large, red and yellow perfectly juicy fruits.

Cedar point

Since beginning this home renovation journey, we wanted a water feature in which to submerge ourselves. Our original architect, Jimmy, fueled our ridiculous desire for a lap pool we couldn’t afford. We also investigated the feasibility of a stainless steel hot tub or conventional spa and even went so far as to visit the SwimEx facility in Massachusetts. (If you can buy a SwimEx, do it. We were able to try it out—was like swimming in a happy river. Wonderful!)

All these options had one problem in common: No way to get the water feature from the front of the house where it would be delivered to the back of the house where it would be needed.

Then my Google addiction bore fruit: I found SeaOtter WoodWorks natural handcrafted cedar hot tubs.

With the dumpster finally gone, on Sunday, Matt and I unpacked the crate that Chris packed for us in Haines, Alaska, on April 25. The contents were in pristine condition after all those weeks of sitting under a torn blue tarp in our driveway.

Early on in the planning process, we mapped out where the hot tub would be located; Steve’s crew reinforced that section of deck.

When I placed the order in February, Bill asked me about our plans for the tub and I told him about our lakefront view—and our wild birds.

We hand carried all the hot tub parts down and around our house to the new lower deck. When we got to the last four staves (of 45), the carvings stopped us in our tracks: A Swan! A Mallard! A Great Blue Heron! And a Kingfisher! Four of my favorite birds—on my hot tub!

Building the hot tub was a three-person job. Like a couple of amateur coopers, the two of us got as far as assembly. Putting the last stave in place was challenging and frustrating—a bit like a segment of America’s Funnies Home Videos—but we managed to git er dun. Next up is electrical and plumbing.

On Saturday, Matt and I had put together a key feature of the deck skirting: A barn door on a bullet track with carefully aligned cedar planks. Stepping back, we saw how nicely it all came together: The wide cedar planks anchoring the house, the narrow cedar planks providing privacy and the cedar staves of our gorgeous hot tub.

Top deck is delightful

Once they had completed the lower deck, the crew put up scaffolding and began framing the top deck, including the bump-out to expand the living area. With the top deck in place—and running the length of the house—the house now seems better proportioned.

In some light, the decking material is grey; in others the beige undertones are more prominent. In all light, the top deck is beautifully neutral. When viewed from the couch, the lake seems to begin where the deck ends.

The completed deck greeted us on our return from Seattle/Vancouver, and we immediately toured it in moonlight. This was invigorating, given the height of the structure and lack of railings. We were on it again this morning, too, despite the damp weather thanks to a tropical storm and Hurricane Kyle.

The deck design by our (second) architect had some fantasy-land elements. For example, he designed the deck above-and-beyond code requirements. Instead, we went with the typical 6”x6” posts and off-the-shelf brackets. The Todd also specified a cable tie bracing system for the deck that no one—including him—could figure out where to purchase. We’ll be going with typical lumber here, too.

And so in the heavy fog, we cavorted on the deck this morning, feeling happy and lucky to have so much outdoor living space. Turns out we aren’t the only ones who like our new deck, as evidenced by the paw prints left by Waschbär, our neighborhood raccoon.

Lovin’ the lower deck

While we were off in Seattle and Vancouver, celebrating 12 marvelous years of marriage, Steve Wasko’s team was working.

After bringing down the dangerous deck, the team hand-dug huge holes for proper supports for the double-decker deck.

Steve suggested upgrading our decking, from regular TimberTech® TwinFinish® Plank in grey (“brushed” side up) to the version of the same product with the CONCEALoc™ Fasteners, for a hole-free surface.

Great call, Steve!

The crew finished the lower deck surface, complete with a step up to the area that will house the hot tub. In celebration, we took careful measurements and ordered the Cable Railing on Thursday.

Freakin’ out

“Will I freak out,” I asked while opening my eyes on Wednesday morning?

“When I saw it yesterday, I went completely mental,” Matt replied.

When Tiffiny, our yoga instructor, saw it on Wednesday evening, she replied: “How bizarre!”

The deck was gone and it was a long way down.

The Wasko crew had planned to take the deck down in sections. It apparently gave no resistance. Seeing the pock-marked poles that once held up the decking was particularly unnerving.

Good riddance to bad structures!

Labor Day Weekend

On Saturday morning, the flesh was willing but the mind was weak. There was something important we needed to do…

To help us think, we tuned the TV to classic rock. A few beats and gyrations later, the shoes were on and we were admiring work the crew did downstairs during the week. Hearing music through the floor also alerted us to the need for excellent insulation. Nothing less relaxing than being in a house where activities on one floor are audible in another area.

Then the labor began. We had already replanted any flora we wanted to save. So only slag plants would be in the new deck’s way. To keep the crew focused on the activities we cannot do, Matt dug out the raggedy rose bushes, which served primarily as deer food, while I carried away and stacked slate from the first section of walkway.

On Labor Day, we removed all the remaining items from the deck: basil, grill, bird feeders and weather station elements that became favorite roosting spots. Then we took off the pricey cable railing in hopes of finding for it some creative reuse.

When it was gone, I gasped: “Scary!”

“I like it,” Matt proclaimed. “Maybe we can put a net underneath to catch anyone who tumbles from the deck, leaving off the railing so nothing blocks our view.”

With each step, the deck began to shimmy and shake... The next morning, I saw that the corner support beam was beginning to collapse. Luckily, September 2 was to be the deck’s last day.

We need a new deck

The prime feature of this property is our deck. The builder’s plan is to begin removing the structure next week to prepare the site for a double-decker deck.

Good thing, too. The decaying deck prevents us from hosting barbecues. The fear of having the supports fail—causing our beloved guests drop to their deaths—eliminates some of the fun of planning a party.