I mentioned we got the side door fixed; its strike plate had fallen off years ago and replacing it just required someone with confidence to screw the new one in sideway. So that's nothing big.
Since then, though, we have realized just what rough shape so much of the doorframe is in. Particularly the base. I don't know how old the doorframe is, but that many winters plus the occasional four-inches-an-hour rainstorm has degraded it badly.
bunnyhugger had gone around the base of the house to fill up spots where outdoor mice might be getting in, and the base of the door is basically all filled with this steel wool-like stuff. It'd be better if there were wood in there. Probably we should get the whole frame replaced. But the new latch is so good!
Also, now, our coal chute. Which we still have; the house is old but it hasn't been so old that getting rid of the chute was worth spending money on. It's also been a spot where mice could get in, and while
bunnyhugger sealed it up last time we were having unauthorized mice, it's in considerably worse shape these days. It's in bad enough shape it might be reasonable to replace it entirely, but where do you even get a new coal chute door? Probably the thing to do would be to make it into a new window, but the company we got our fantastic glass block basement windows from went out of business about twelve minutes after they gave us fantastic windows. For now, we're hoping
bunnyhugger has got mice sufficiently discouraged from going in that way.
And now, to pictures of Idlewild and the fairy tale forest there.
bunnyhugger approaching the Old Shoe of the woman who lives within. Yes, they had a performer for the Old Woman.
Inside the foot was this seemingly inadequate bed. It is labelled in front 'Sandman Special' and I'm sorry I didn't get a good picture of the plaque on the leftmost side of the bed.
There's the shoe and the Old Woman set out front, with her chair and water bottle.
And here's the pumpkin shell, with Peter Peter on top.
Here's what life looks like from within a pumpkin shell.
There's LIttle Boy Blue, with the new-since-our-last-visit sign reminding us how the story goes.
Over here's the brick house where the Three Little Pigs live these days.
And Jack and Jill, with Jack face down in his egg and chips.
A sign outside Jack and Jill urges us to use the well for its intended non-water purpose.
This rhyme about Hickety Pickety I have not seen referenced anywhere but here. I believe last time we visited there was a chicken in the roost but now there's just sculptures.
Here's the giant watering-can house from the famous fairy tale ... uh ... ... um ...
Table inside, with some Jack and Jill Seeds so you can grow your own fairy tale. Also, apparently, a bit of the Halloween decorations they missed taking down.
Trivia: By 1870 Urban Jean Joseph Le Verrier (discoverer of Neptune) was on speaking terms with zero of the members of the Paris Observatory's Board of Advisors, and for six months the Director refused to have anything to do with the body. Finally compelled to attend a meeting it ended (by reports) with three advisors kicking Le Verrier out of the room, and Le Verrier was forced to resign. Source: In Search of Planet Vulcan: The Ghost in Newton's Clockwork Universe, Richard Baum, William Sheehan. He was reappointed director in 1873 when his successor (Charles-Eugène Delaunay) accidentally drowned.
Currently Reading: Michigan History, September/October 2025, Editor Kristen Brennan.