B'Log Home Sweet Home

We finally did it. My husband and I got out the bucket list and moved near the mountains into a log home. We're camping out in the house until the movers finish delaying the delivery. Chin up. Imagine where all our stuff will go. Where to put my coffee cup so I can see the chickadees eat breakfast. How to arrange the formal dining room on the deck so the hummingbirds play the mood music. What wall to shove the bed against to get the best view of the sun setting between the pines.

But don't get any warped ideas that it's all fresh air and columbines here in the foothills of the Rockies. People who dream of escaping to the mountains need to understand that so do the deer, bear, bats and a whole nefarious gang of outlaw rodents. A gang that doesn't give a wooden nickle for who's name is on the land deed.

It doesn't help that the house was decorated with the bring the outdoors indoors philosophy. It was so dirty it took me half a day to clean just one closet. After I rolled up the carpet of inch thick cat hair woven together with dust, I found a hideout littered with nails, screws, wood chips, a Christmas ornament, broken glass and even cat litter. But my favorite was a mouse trap. A mouse trap like some trophy of how the sharp shooting pack rat Billy the Pinkie outwitted the stupid humans without bending a whisker. Did I mention it's in the cat's closet. Takes one cold steady paw to pull that job off.

Next on the to do list. Pest control. The pest control guy plugged a hole in the garage so big it was like a saloon sign advertising free beer to every mouse in the neighborhood. Might as well install a swinging door and a teeny tiny welcome mat so at least they wipe their paws before they scurry all over my stuff.

Pest control guy suspected bat or rats poo every morning at the back door. I bet my REI hat and my horse it's the gang leader -- he goes by the name of Jesse James the Squirrel. We had a discussion one morning about bird seed rustling being a hanging offense. I think he forgot who's bigger -- me or him. This porch ain't big enough for the two of us partner.