Londonderry News

The back yard looks like a bog, and raking would pull the new grass peeking through the ground. My fingers were itching to find something to do outdoor as spring weather was upon us. I heeded hubby’s words and left that chore for another day.

There were tree limbs and fallen branches to clear but again we did not want to cause damage to the lawn. We chose to get on with cleaning out the cellar. We do not have a basement below the hard wood floors. It is a cellar; a place with cement floors and shelving against every wall. The spaces in the dark corners are filled with yard work tools, old furniture and all types of stuff just in case we need them again one day.

Just how all the junk accumulates is a mystery to mankind and to clear it is not a job for the faint hearted. It is a chore that dirties the hands, clogs the hair with webs and fills the lungs with dust.

Many of the cartons stored on the shelf had no markings and as I opened the first I felt like a child opening a gift from Santa. The thrill of the unknown made my fingers tingle as I tore back the flaps. Bits of material old ribbons and embroidery floss eked of mustiness. I climbed up the cellar steps, placed the box into the trash receptacle, dusted my clothing with the palm of my hands and gave myself an atta boy for resisting the urge to keep the contents just in case…

Meanwhile, my significant other was standing on a stool and pondering what to do with the three electric coffee makers with no decanters and a crock pot with a frayed cord. I could not imagine the reason for holding on them. My hubby pushed my hand away as he told me all the reasons why we should keep them. Many a reason followed when hubby gave me all the reasons for keeping them.

“I can make a hot plate from the base; it is just a matter of cutting away the well. The insert for the crock pot will be a dandy fermenting vessel just in case I decide to make some wine. “

He pushed the items further back on the self and I took a deep exasperated breath to keep from pointing out that our cellar was filled with just in cases.

Then I came upon a box filled with models that my son had made when he was a teen. The mementoes would mean a lot to him some day so I resealed it and carefully placed it back on the shelf that I was working on.

So it went as we leisurely went through cartons and plastic bags sealed tight against the dampness. One, heavy -duty bag overflowed with cuddly toys that my daughter had won at the arcade during a two week stay at the beach. I justified keeping them just in case she wanted to give them to her own children someday.

Frames with broken glass, cracked wall plates and rusted tool l parts did get tossed into the scrap pile filled that filled a thirty gallon trash barrel. We had made the ultimate effort and were pleased with our progress.

My stomach growled from lack of food. We left the remaining clutter for another day.

Yesterday I saw my husband carry a metal rod and an empty ice cream bucket down to the cellar. I gave him a questioning look and he responded, “this is good stuff I’m going to store it just in case…”

Lorraine