Happy Handyman

When I first met him, I was hunkered down, blocking the path skirting the beach end of Lake Cheston, photographing a newly emerged female Calico Pennant.  He and his dog Buckaroo walked round the rocky shore and then sat on a little footbridge, and waited patiently and quietly for me to rise. 

I sat and called out, "Sorry!"

When they joined me, he wanted to know what I was photographing, and I was happy to point out the tiny insect.  We chatted then, a long time about dragonflies, and then about mushrooms which he forages, and then about where he lives.  Suddenly, I knew who he was before he told me: my friend Jill has recently sung his praises because of his good work with her on her yard.

He's Dave!  A serious spelunker, who -- when out of work because of the recession -- sold his Harley and built a 12-by-12 cabin on his land, using his own trees, and working to buy the things he couldn't make.  A one-time soldier, he can flake beautiful arrowheads and carve peace pipes, complete with turkey feather flourish.  He eats at the Senior Citizens' Center each day and works with his head and hands otherwise, helping folks like me do the jobs we can't do.

So far he has caulked and sealed my tubs; changed one of the shower heads; stuffed a mouse hole; cleaned my gutters and fixed the gutter guards incorrectly installed by the previous house owner's father; stopped a leak in the hot water heater in my attic and corrected the faulty run-off line (in which he discovered evidence of someone's sabotage: a big chunk of insulation stuffed up into the PVC); and replaced two porch lights.  Tomorrow, he will install the lattice to discourage the raccoons from entering the crawl space; mortar a hole at the base of the brick foundation; and repaint the ceiling marred by the leaking hot water heater.

Dave's a delight: a self-made man with a smart mouth, big heart, and talent for fixing things.  And he hoots like an owl too, even while balanced on an extension ladder!  Dave makes my house and me smile.