#Paver Aprons

[stonecreationslongisland]

Firepit Design | Installation | Sales | Long Island NY | 631.678.6896

Firepit Design | Installation | Sales | Long Island NY | 631.678.6896

Fire pits have become an essential part of your backyard outdoor living. Gas fire pits or propane fire pits are mostly installed if the natural gas or propane is available. If not we can supply all the products needed and employing one of our licensed plumbers and electricians we can design and install your entire fire feature. Custom fire pits are built using retaining walls or stone. Outdoor…

[keisukeabe]

Boston Landscape

A large traditional courtyard stone driveway design concepts.

[merakiblr]

Concrete Pavers in Chicago

Inspiration for a sizable front yard with concrete pavers and partial sun.

[whatsjohnbeensmoking]

Boston Driveway Inspiration for a large traditional courtyard stone driveway.

[turner-the-awkward]

An example of a large traditional front yard stone driveway.

[entcrprise]

Porch in Chicago

An example of a large transitional concrete paver front porch design.

[chrystali]

Mediterranean Landscape - Driveway Design suggestions for a sizable, partially-shaded front yard with concrete pavers in the summer.

[scaredeverything]

Driveway - Mediterranean Landscape

[xxgoblin-dumplingxx]

I’m loving so much the new disowned verse omg, it is so good, you are a genius.

But I’m curious, how did reader and jason met?

The apartment was in a cracker box of a building with thin walls. His neighbors were a young couple that fought about money 25/8 and an elderly 'Nam Vet who liked his porno but- he could cope.

It was different than Gotham. There weren't constant gunshots. And that was weird. But. He knew better than to think his PI license wouldn't make him some money. Even out in the sticks. There was always a contentious divorce. There was always something not quite right. Cops in over their heads.

And he'd have down time. He could read. Work on his bike. Fuck. Maybe even actually go see a movie... Sure. He knew eventually he'd get bored but. For now, he was looking forward to it.

He shut the door and locked it behind him, frowning just slightly and making a note to get a better lock while he was out. He doubted he could find anything super great in town- he'd probably have to order something but. He'd passed a hardware store in town so... it might be worth checking out. If he made friends with the old guy that probably ran it he could probably get some special orders if he needed it.

So he set off that direction, wandering on foot down the sidewalks and taking note of the other houses. It was the middle of the afternoon. And the lunch whistles at the old factory still sounded at nood and then 30 minutes later. Tucked away from the tree-lined main drag, the houses back here varied from run down to better homes and gardens.

That tracked.

They got better closer to the front. The older show homes outweighed the eyesores. American primitive lawn decor. A surprising number of pineapples- and he snorted, wondering if it had come from a big box store or if it was a signal. Or both.

Still.

By the time he made it to the hardware store, he was reasonably certain he could stay busy. All was not as Leave it to Beaver as the Town Council would have you believe. And the first place he was gonna leave a flyer was in the beauty shop. Those old biddies HAD to have some shit to stir up.

He shouldered the door open and a bell, an actual bell, chimed. And he smiled a little taking a deep breath. The smell of dust, tools, and old well-maintained wood hit his nose and he exhaled. Definitely not going to find any high tech locks here. But, he had a soft spot for independent shops.

"Be with you in a minute!"

The voice made him jump. Not the gruff voice of a grumpy old fuck he expected. And it made him search of the source. Curious. "No worries," he said, walking a little farther towards where he'd heard it. Finding a young woman on a ladder stocking some boxes of bolts on a shelf. A pink canvas gardening apron tied around her hips to hold more boxes. "You got door locks?" he asked.

"Aisle 5 next to the paver catalogs," you tell him, steadying yourself so you can turn and glance down at him.

"Perfect," he said, "Thanks."

"Mhm, let me know if you need anything else," you tell him.

Jason paused and looked around, "Think you can put a tool box together for me I just moved and-"

"Ah, yeah. One Bachelor special," you tell him," Jumping down from the ladder, "I think I can get you fixed up. At least enough to get you started. You'll be smashing your thumbs in no time."

"Got a first aid kit too?"

"Right up at the counter," you snort. "But if you want anything special, you gotta see Adam at the Pharmacy. Mine are pretty basic."

"I can deal with basic- at least until you sell me a band saw-"

"Oh lord."

[dmn8partners]

Environmental Impact and Water Conservation of pressure washing

Pressure washing is a powerful cleaning method commonly used for various applications, such as cleaning driveways, sidewalks, buildings, and vehicles. While it is effective in removing dirt and grime, it's important to consider its environmental impact and adopt practices that minimize water usage and promote sustainability. Here are some key points to consider:

1. Minimizing water usage during pressure washing: 

  - Use a pressure washer with adjustable pressure settings to avoid excessive water consumption.

  - Opt for low-pressure nozzles or attachments that disperse water more efficiently.

  - Pre-soak surfaces with biodegradable cleaning solutions to loosen dirt and reduce the need for high-pressure rinsing.

  - Consider using water-efficient pressure washers that recycle and reuse water.

2. Environmentally friendly cleaning solutions and alternatives:

  - Choose biodegradable and non-toxic cleaning solutions that are safe for the environment.

  - Look for eco-friendly detergents specifically designed for pressure washing, which minimize harm to plants, animals, and water sources.

  - Explore alternative cleaning methods, such as steam cleaning, which can effectively remove dirt and grime without the need for excessive water or chemicals.

3. Proper disposal of wastewater and chemicals:

  - Avoid allowing wastewater to enter storm drains or natural water bodies directly.

  - If possible, collect wastewater for proper disposal or recycling.

  - Consult local regulations and guidelines for the disposal of pressure washing wastewater and chemicals.

  - Consider using containment systems or barriers to prevent wastewater runoff during pressure washing.

4. Promoting sustainable pressure washing practices:

  - Educate and train pressure washing professionals on environmentally friendly practices.

  - Encourage the use of water-saving equipment and techniques, such as trigger guns that automatically shut off when not in use.

  - Promote responsible water use and conservation by raising awareness among customers and the general public.

  - Support and collaborate with organizations that advocate for sustainable pressure washing practices.

By adopting these practices, we can minimize the environmental impact of pressure washing and contribute to water conservation efforts. Remember to stay informed about local regulations and guidelines regarding water usage and waste disposal to ensure compliance with environmental standards.

For more information about Power Wash Plus or to get a free quote for Pressure Washing, House Washing, Roof Cleaning, Deck Cleaning, Paver Cleaning, Gutter Cleaning, Gutter Guard Installation, and Pool Apron Cleaning, visit our website powerwashplus.com or call us at 732-671-6767 We strive to be the best pressure washing in Middletown, NJ. You can trust Power Wash Plus to always provide satisfaction guaranteed pressure washing.

[concreterstoowoombaqld]

Residential Concreters Toowoomba

When you need a new concrete driveway, path or slab for your shed or home a concreter can help. They can also help you create a unique aesthetic for your property with exposed aggregate, stencilled or stamped concrete.

Concrete cutting is a precise form of construction and a skill that many concreters have acquired. Concrete is made from a mix of cement, water and aggregates such as gravel or sand.

1. Concrete Driveways

Concrete driveways are a popular choice for homeowners due to their durability, strength and cost. They can also be poured to achieve a variety of finishes and are a great alternative to pavers, gravel or asphalt. A concrete specialist can help you choose the best material to suit your needs, and can even create a unique design for your driveway.

A concrete driveway can be stained to match your home, and can be made with exposed aggregate, which is a more natural look. Unlike pavers, which tend to shift over time and allow weeds to grow through the joints, concrete driveways are durable, long-lasting and require little maintenance.

A concrete contractor can also provide services to install or repair existing concrete surfaces, such as house slabs and foundations. They can also assist with earthworks to prepare the site for concreting, and may own a bobcat or truck to enable work to be completed faster. This is especially important for large projects, such as driveways, patios and shed apron slabs.

2. Concrete Patios

A concrete patio can add value to your home and is a good choice for homeowners looking for a durable, long-lasting, low-maintenance surface. They are also less expensive than pavers, natural stone and brick patios. Concrete is versatile and offers a number of design options. It can be stained, integrally colored, stamped, engraved or textured to resemble other paving materials at a fraction of the cost.

Concrete can be finished with slip-resistant coatings to reduce the risk of tripping and falling. It’s also resistant to weather damage, insect infestations and some forms of fungus.

Unlike wood decks, concrete patios can support furniture and barbecues without fear of warping or rot. They are also easy to clean and maintain. They are a great option for homeowners with mobility issues and elderly family members who need access to their backyard. Concrete is also a safer surface than other types of paved surfaces because it is not as slippery when wet.

3. Concrete Slabs

Concrete slabs are a common part of modern building design. They are commonly used for floors and ceilings in residential and commercial buildings. Slabs can be constructed in various shapes and sizes and can also be coloured.

A slab can be insulated to reduce its thermal mass effect. However, this reduces the effectiveness of its acoustic properties. The acoustic performance of a slab can be enhanced by choosing finishes that do not interfere with the slab underside, such as tiled surfaces fixed with cement.

Slabs can be made from a variety of materials, including recycled tyres or reused detergent bottles filled with water. Other alternatives with lower embodied energy are available, such as hempcrete, which uses industrial hemp fibres in conjunction with lime-based binders to sequester carbon dioxide for the life of the building. Eco-comparison websites can help select options with low embodied energy.

4. Coloured Concrete

Coloured concrete is great for adding a stylistic element to your home, garden or business. It can be used in the form of driveways, patios, floors or even retaining walls. It is a durable and versatile material that can be moulded into many shapes and designs.

There are several ways that concrete can be colored, including integral color, dyes and stain. Integral color is added to the concrete while it is being poured and can be done on new or old slabs. This method of coloring has limited color options and is more expensive than other methods. It also tends to fade in the sun, so a sealer is often required.

Dye is a liquid or granular pigment that is brushed onto the concrete surface once it has been poured. This method is more economical than integral color, but it can be difficult to get a uniform look. Stains are more predictable, but they are less resistant to UV rays.

source https://concreterstoowoomba545092813.wordpress.com/2023/05/27/residential-concreters-toowoomba/

[concretecanberra]

Residential Concrete Companies Near Me

Residential concrete companies offer a variety of services that include pouring new concrete and repairing existing concrete. They can install decorative concrete like stamped and stained floors and countertops.

Homeowners should search for a concrete contractor with years of experience, relevant concrete industry certifications and proper licensing and insurance. They should also review images of the contractors’ previous work and customer testimonials.

Retaining Walls and Stairs

Retaining walls are a functional way to add depth and contrasting beauty to your landscape. They can also keep soil from eroding and make areas of your yard that were once unusable into functional spaces.

Stairs that are built into retaining walls allow you to access other parts of your yard without walking across the entire wall. They can be curved to look more natural and flow with your landscape design or straight, depending on the style you prefer.

Concrete work requires a lot of expertise and is best left to the professionals. Choose a residential concrete company with years of experience and specialized skills in forming and pouring concrete. They will ensure that the concrete is properly shaped and smoothed, so it won’t crack or crumble once it’s set.

Foundations

For homeowners planning a new structure, like a garage or shed, foundations must be poured to support the weight of the building. Concrete contractors can provide expert installations of foundations, often coordinating with an engineer to ensure the design is accurate.

Residential concrete companies also offer repairs for existing foundations, stairs and landings. Sometimes, ground shifts under a slab and causes cracks to form. A professional can help homeowners assess whether a crack is serious, and how much the repair will cost.

The size of a crack isn’t as indicative of its severity as the way it moves. Cracks that move and widen indicate the concrete or ground beneath it is on the move, and need a professional assessment. This can be expensive if it means the foundation must be rebuilt.

Driveways

A concrete driveway adds value to a home and boosts curb appeal. A standard concrete driveway costs about $4,000. Contractors can lay new or repair old concrete, including a concrete apron (the space between the garage and road).

A concrete company can also provide textured surface treatments to boost curb appeal, but these options add to the overall cost. A professional can seal the concrete to protect it from weathering and UV rays.

A concrete driveway lasts longer than asphalt, and it requires less maintenance. Concrete is strong and stable, whereas asphalt can soften during hot summer months. A concrete driveway also resists potholes better than pavers. The contractor will prepare the site, install concrete forms and rebar if necessary, pour the concrete and smooth it before it sets.

Patios

Concrete patios offer a low-cost alternative to pavers, stone and brick for homeowners who want to create outdoor living spaces in their yards. Local concrete contractors can build or repair these installations and help you decide on a style that fits your backyard, front yard and home. Stained concrete is a popular option that gives homeowners the ability to choose colors, textures and patterns that match their landscaping. It also costs less than pavers or natural stone and lasts longer. Local concrete contractors can help you find a patio style that suits your home and landscaping and recommend resealing every two to three years to keep it looking new. Search for local contractors online or use a service like Thumbtack to get multiple quotes and read reviews from past customers.

Pool Decks

A pool deck (also known as a surround, deck or decking) is the hardscape surface that surrounds your residential swimming pool. It offers a place for people to mingle, dine or lounge around the water and should blend in with the surrounding landscape.

Pool decks offer many options for materials including concrete, pavers and tile. Each material has different pros and cons.

Pros: Concrete is durable, resistant to chlorine and salt, and easy to maintain. It also allows for a wide range of decorative effects not possible with other materials.

Pavers are versatile and affordable, but they can be slippery when wet. They must be regularly cleaned and sealed to prevent staining. They can be textured for slip resistance and are a good choice for those who want to add the look of natural stone or brick to their pool deck.

source https://concretecanberra.wordpress.com/2023/05/23/residential-concrete-companies-near-me/

[ao3feed-larry]

Weathering the Storm of Fate

by faithinwalls369

After home-schooling his daughter for fourteen years, Louis decides to let go of the apron strings. Leia has just finished sitting her exams, ready to filter into mainstream schooling. But what Louis didn't bargain for, was falling in love with Harry Styles, a father of two. To add a spanner into the works, Connie and Dottie just so happen to be Leia's best friends.

*I have almost completed the novel, but I've posted the first two chapters, to help gauge whether I should continue this piece. It's super close to my heart.

Words: 7506, Chapters: 2/2, Language: English

Fandoms: One Direction (Band)

Rating: Not Rated

Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings

Categories: M/M

Characters: Harry Styles, Louis Tomlinson, Leia Tomlinson (Louis' Daughter), Connie Styles (Harry's Daughter), Dottie Styles (Harry's Daughter), Jessica Richards (Leia's Mother - Brief Mentions), Gemma Styles, Lottie Tomlinson

Relationships: Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson

Additional Tags: Fluff and Humor, Flirting, Harry Styles and Louis Tomlinson are Saps, Teenager Daughters, relationships, Platonic friendships, Homosexuality, Bisexuality, Sexual exploration, Cute Kids, Romance, Fate & Destiny, Forehead Kisses, Family Fluff, Endometriosis (Leia), Chronic Illness, hospital visits, Medical Trauma - Being Misdiagnosed, Misdiagnosis, Author Louis Tomlinson, Paver Harry Styles, Horticulture, Gardens & Gardening, Flowers, Plants, Growing Vegetables, Family Bonding, School, Exams

via AO3 works tagged 'Harry Styles/Louis Tomlinson' https://ift.tt/khwLquc

[catswillforeverbeinmylife]

The Cost Of A New Driveway Varys Greatly

When you are considering a new driveway for your home, there are many different factors to consider. Cost is one important factor, but the materials and time involved also play a part. If you are looking to have a new driveway constructed, you should also look into municipal requirements.

The cost of a new driveway can vary greatly, and the type of materials you choose can have a big impact on the overall cost of the project.

Cost of a new driveway

The cost of a new driveway varies greatly depending on the material and type of driveway you want. Concrete is the most popular material for driveways and is easy to customize. A basic concrete driveway can be installed for less than $3,900. Concrete is relatively low maintenance and can last anywhere from 25 to 50 years depending on the climate. If you live in a cold climate, you may want to consider a heated driveway. This will prevent the accumulation of ice and make shoveling easier. The cost of a heated driveway can be $7,200 to $15,000 and will depend on the customization you choose.

For homeowners looking to replace an existing driveway, the total cost may be anywhere from $2 to $15 per square foot. However, this price does not include the cost of the labor to remove the old driveway. You should also be aware that labor costs can account for as much as 50 percent of the total cost of the project. This does not include the costs of equipment, such as a skid steer, roller, asphalt paver, or concrete mixer. Labor costs also vary widely depending on your locality.

Materials used to build a driveway

Choosing the right materials for your driveway is an important decision. While asphalt and concrete are the most common types of paving materials, there are many other choices available. For example, loose stone can be a relatively inexpensive option. However, loose stone can wear away quickly and can get into planting areas. You may want to consider installing a driveway edging to keep loose stones from causing a mess. Another option is to use natural stone such as sandstone or sawn granite. These materials can be fairly inexpensive, and can be installed on a DIY basis.

Concrete driveways are typically made of three to four inches of thick concrete with a strength of 3,000 to 4,000 psi. The stronger the concrete is, the longer it will last. However, concrete driveways do need yearly maintenance, including weeding and spraying. If the driveway is to be used by a lot of vehicles, a rebar layer can be used to support the concrete. Adding rebar also increases the strength of the concrete and gives it extra tensile and compressive strength.

Municipal requirements for a new driveway

Municipal requirements for a new driveway vary widely. In the state of North Carolina, for instance, the North Carolina Department of Transportation (NCDOT) regulates new driveway connections to public streets and highways. These regulations can include requirements for permits, access controls, and physical roadway improvements.

In addition to curb and site plan requirements, some municipalities require specific designs for driveways and aprons. A site plan must be submitted, including details on the design of the driveway, apron, and any other needed portions of the site.

[stonecreationslongisland]

Cambridge Paver Poolscapes with Hot Tub - Queens, NY

Cambridge Paver Poolscapes with Hot Tub – Queens, NY

All wrapped up in Queens, NY. Thank you, enjoy! #stonecreationsoflongisland #masonry #pavers#pools #outdoorliving #outdoorkitchens #spa#landscapedesign #backyardparadise #ny#queens #nassaucounty #suffolkcounty#hamptons #cambridgepavers #XL#experiencematters @ Queens Village, Queens

    Queens Poolscapes

FREE ESTIMATES – CLICK HERE

[adamantiumdragonfly]

“...A time when the United States is what we fight for...” 

The occupants of the Grisham Hall boarding house were no strangers to the war effort. Brothers, cousins, old flames, and sweethearts have been wrenched from their grasp, the only contact to their stolen loved ones is military grade pencils and scraps of paper. Estelle prides herself on her mind for numbers but a usurper from her past rears his russet head and threatens to steal her thoughts every chance he gets. Bessie has been searching for a home in every patron in that cafe but she’s left seeing his face everywhere she looks. Constance hears her lover’s voice on the wind, finding quiet in the graveyard shift of the machine shop. Margaret refuses to admit defeat but the distance between her letters and her love grows wider each day. Jeannette has read many stories about tragic heroes. Her childhood friend has told tales of his plans for wealth and ending the war on his own. She just hopes she has a chance to do her part first.  

taglist: @rinadoesstuff @vintagelavenderskies @julianneday1701  @wexhappyxfew @junojelli @jamie506101-deactivated20210209 @trashgoddess600 @pilindieltheelf @sunnyshifty @rogue-sunday @easy-company-tradition  @pxpeyewynn @50svibes​

No Ordinary Time

When the doorbell rang at the Grisham Hall for Ladies, it was a house-wide thrill, shivering down the very spine of the building and sending chills into every resident. A doorbell ring, with its chime calling every girl to their feet in a downward flight, could mean one of two things: a visitor or a postman. Visitors, particularly of the sought after male variety, were scarce since the war had been put on to boil some three years previously. Now, with the residents tending home fires and not the flaming passions of suitors, a postman was more likely. A postman, or rather post-boy, were the only kindling to the fires of romance. 

But, on a dim March morning with the sky heavy and ready to bleed, the doorbell had been run and so began the usual stampede of pumps on hardwood floors. There should have been only two possibilities and yet, Jeannette Edwards wasn't a postman or anything that the anxiously awaiting faces expected. She had rung the bell and stepped back in surprise and a tiny bit of fright at the fervor and hunger that met her behind the door wrenched from it’s frame by a seemingly harmless girl. 

She shouldn’t have been so ferocious of a predator as she seemed, this little thing with short brown hair and a dickie color edged in red ribbon but Jeannette stepped back all the same. This hadn’t been what Jeannette had expected either. 

Grisham had come highly recommended, as a good, upstanding place for good, upstanding girls. Jeannette thought she had fit that description rather well and had packed her things in the carpet bag she now clutched tightly in one whitened fist. Could this carpet bag that had first belonged to her mother be used as a weapon to fend off this frightening girl and her hungry eyes? 

“You aren’t Davis,” The girl huffed and moved to shut the door. Jeannette hadn’t come all the way from Hughestown to be turned away by someone looking for a Davis but she didn’t move fast enough. 

A hand, surely one of God’s angels come down from heaven, stopped the door before the girl could shut Jeannette out from her new home. 

“Sorry about that,” The hand’s owner said. She might as well have been an angel as she pushed the door open again, giving full view of her face. Not nearly as intimidating as this little rabid creature before her but there was something in her dark eyes that didn’t set Jeannette completely at ease. 

“Oh,” Jeannette said. “That’s quite alright.” 

“It isn’t really. Bess turns into a monster when she hasn’t heard from her beau in a few days,” The girl said, tossing her long black curls over her shoulder. She wore them loose, a stark contrast to the tight pins in the other girl, Bess’s, locks of chestnut brown. “Sorry you had to be in her path.” 

“Who’s Davis?” Jeannette stammered, gripping her carpet bag tighter and trying not to wobble in her too big pumps. She had bought them before the war, when she had still been hopeful that she’d grow to fit them. But with spending frivolously unpatriotic and her shoe size stubbornly remaining, Jeannette had been left with loose pumps and aching feet. 

“THERE HE IS!” Bess leapt past Jeannette, brushing her roughly in her flight off the wooden porch and flying into the dripping rain. She wore no shoes and her bobby socks were soaked on the puddled pavers as she ran towards the approaching youth in a yellow raincoat. 

“Davis is the mail carrier.” the dark haired girl explained. “He was running late today. We get antsy when we don’t get our letters. I’m sorry I don’t think I-” 

“Jeannette.” She extended her hand. “Jeannette Edwards.” 

Those dark eyes studied her, flicking over her navy blue hat into which her frizzy tomato red hair was tucked, all the way down her too big pumps before shaking Jeannette’s outstretched hand. “Estelle Tran.” 

Behind those dark eyes lay a studious mind that wrote down every variable and equation the world threw at her, bringing up the final unfair sum and accepting it as fact. Estelle was a woman of facts, something that Jeannette rarely dealt in. 

The idea of chasing a mail carrier down flooded steps to retrieve a sought-after letter had never once crossed Jeannette’s mind but it seemed these girls found it a daily occurrence. Jeannette’s gaze was cast to the left of the doorway where the mailbox was hung, the address and the name of the establishment emblazoned on the wood in cut out letters. 

“I’m sorry, I believe I came to the wrong place,” She said, gesturing at the box where the “I” had been replaced by a mystifying “E”. “I’m looking for Grisham Hall,” 

“Oh you are in the right place,” Bess jogged back up the path, her stockings slapping against the stone pavers like webbed feet. “We knocked the ‘I’ off and had to make do. Grisham, Gresham. It’s all the same, really,” 

“Jeannette Edwards,” The redhead pushed her hand forward, offering it to the creature who had been ready to shut her out in this damp cold. Bess seemed in better spirits now, a wad of letters in her hand.

“Elizabeth Ferguson,” Her bobbed brown hair bounced against her cheeks as Elizabeth leaned forward to take Jeannette’s hand. “You can call me Bess, Beth, I really don’t mind. Crops good this week,” Bess turned to Estelle and waved the mail under her companion’s nose. 

“Stop waving and let me look,” Estelle plucked the letters from Bess’s hands, holding them out of reach as the brunette leapt for them. 

“Hang on,” Bess cried, trying in vain to reach the envelopes. “Two of them are for me.” 

When the correspondence had been returned to their rightful recipient, Bess squealed and darted back into the house, sliding across the foyer in her slick stockings. 

“Better wake Connie and Margo,”  Estelle called over her shoulder as she sorted through the last of the letters. She turned to go inside but paused, as if remembering that Jeannette was there, out in the drizzling rain and the damp air. “You are looking for Grisham Hall, aren’t you?” 

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “I’m-” 

“The new tenant,” Estelle finished for her. “Mrs. G told us. Come on then,” 

Allowing herself to be waved inside, Jeannette cast her gaze around the foyer of cherry-stained wood and bright electric lights, a stark contrast to the gloom and doom of the world outside. The scent of lemon cleaner that hung in the air was the same brand that Jeannette’s mother had used in the houses she cleaned. A strange connection between the hills of Pennsylvania and the riverside of Virginia that was a comfort as much as a weight. This house was far too clean to be anything from Jeannette’s home and it fit the bill for good and upstanding. This house was the picture of American dreams and patriotism with it’s large staircase and adjoining room for a grand piano and little else. 

Jeannette hung back as Estelle pushed her way further into the house as if she wasn’t stunned by the cherry-wood and lemon cleaner. Those too big shoes looked foolish and the wish for a pair that fit was unpatriotic in this bright house with it’s star banner in the window. Shuffling her feet, Jeannette cast her gaze down. 

“Mrs G!” Estelle shouted. Deep from the belly of this house, came a faint response. 

“She’s in the kitchen,” Estelle waited for Jeannette to follow her through the side door into a back hall, past the dining room set for an army and a sunroom that was dark under the storm brewing outside, and into the even brighter kitchen. 

“Mrs. G, Ms. Edwards is here,” Estelle called and the woman at the counter turned away from the scraps of dough, her hands dusted in flour. 

“I was expecting a call from the station,” Mrs. Grisham chided, wiping her hands across a spotless apron, sending a wince through Jeannette’s frame at the destruction of such clean linen.  “We were going to send the car with Constance.” 

“I took a bus and then a cab. It was no trouble,” Jeannette said. “I didn’t want to impose,”

Mrs. Grisham blustered and waved a hand, sending flour cascading into the air, assuring Jeannette that it was no trouble at all. She was a matronly, if not clumsy, woman who’s nice house and nice clothes set the tone for the good and upstanding boarding house she ran. The girls who had been in her care were loved fiercely and looked after tenderly with a maternal, if not iron, fist. She was no stranger to hard work and saw the running of this hall for ladies as her battlefield. While the muddied stairs and the young women were not German soldiers or Pacific islands, they were a worthy opponent all the same. 

 “I saw your banner, Mrs. Grisham,” Jeannette said, gesturing back the way she had come. “Your son?” 

Stars marked windows and hearts, declaring that the ultimate show of patriotism had been brandished in that home. Their home fires were stoked a little more vigorously and their women sat in wait a little more earnestly. Jeannette had seen many on her trip down from Pennsylvania and knew still more in her hometown; there it stung to put names to the stars in windows. 

“Yes,” Mrs. Grisham said, with a thin smile. “Arthur is in the Pacific. And you?” 

“Two brothers in North Africa,” Two stars for Jeannette’s mother. “A cousin in the Navy, and a friend. Last I heard, he was in England.” 

Those names were hard to forget. Brothers. Friends. Family. Everyone knew someone who was fighting, everyone had a letter that they could send. 

Her friend had taken up space in her mind since he had waved goodbye on that train. She carried those dark eyes and that crooked smile in her carpet bag across state lines and into Norfolk, etched into her memory with the letters and the memories. Jeannette hadn’t heard from him in several weeks and she was growing steadily more concerned. They had grown up together and he had always been in her life in some form or fashion, in letters or in days under the trees. 

“Mine too!” Bessie cried. “Postmarked Aldbourne.” 

“Now, you know how Estelle feels about all this talk,” Mrs. Grisham said softly. “Did you have your address changed, dear? Letters are a big to-do around here.” 

Jeannette didn’t cling to every letter, every word at first.  She hadn’t known what a lifeline those pencil-etched papers of military issued paper, in the storm of the current world. She had begun to see how impervious the lead was to the wiles of the storms. 

“My mother will forward any letters from home,” Jeannette said. 

“Now, enough of all this letter talk,” Mrs. Grisham said. “You got a job on base, didn’t you?” 

Jeannette nodded. 

“You are in luck. Most of the girls here work on base and there is always plenty of room in the car. Dinners and breakfasts are as a home but lunches are up to you. I trust you’ll join us tonight? I’ve been saving my coupons.” 

“Mrs. G is making her apple pie,” Bessie said. “It ranks 4th best.” 

“I will win first place, mark my words,” Mrs. G teased. “You’ll find we are very relaxed here, Jeannette. I don’t care much what you get up to, just keep your wits about you. These Navy men-” Mrs. Grisham shuddered as if repelled by the thought of that branch of the US military. “Bess and Estelle will show you your room. You’ll have to share.” 

Once Jeannette had assured Mrs. G that she had shared a room her whole life and it didn’t matter to her, the landlady smiled and waved them up the back staircase. Following the damp footprints of Bess up the third floor, she let her eyes wander to the photos on the walls. Scenic views of the river that Jeannette knew was only a few miles away shared space with the portraits of a young boy and a much younger Mrs. Grisham. Beside her was the assumed Mr. Grisham, who’s dark eyes followed Jeannette up the stairs long after his face had ceased to be represented in the family photographs. It was almost poetic, to see the changes in the family as Jeannette followed Bess and Estelle up the stairs. 

Between the days by the river and the picnic blankets on the beach,  Arthur grew up and Mrs. Grisham grew grayer. Jeannette had been a girl prone to empathy often to her detriment and felt the pang of nostalgia deeper as they ascended till the final frame on the landing showed the now older and grimmer son who Jeannette had seen as a child not seven steps back, dressed up in his uniform. Bess and Estelle had passed these photos daily and knew the stories behind them, having seen Arthur in the flesh before the Navy had stolen him away. They felt the pang as Jeannette did, but sharper. They knew the shy and quiet boy wasn’t in that uniform.  

They ignored the second floor, leaving Mrs. Grisham’s shrine to how things had been before Arhtur untouched and continued to the third floor, where the photos were scarce and replaced with paintings of long forgotten relatives and odd landscapes. Bess paused to point out that the oar on the side of the boat depicted wasn’t actually an oar but a “sneaky duck. I didn’t know until Carrie told me. Looks like an oar, doesn’t it?”

“I suppose it does,” Jeannette admitted. “Did a Grisham paint it?” 

Estelle turned from where she stood at the top of the stairs, looking down at the lagging Jeannette and Bess. “The previous owner of this house, a great aunt of Mrs. Grisham’s, Beverly Simmons, was an amatuer artist.” 

“Emphasis on the amatuer,” Bess muttered as she jogged up the last few steps. “Mrs. G doesn’t want to see ducks that look like boats on the main floor so we are forced to look at their sorry tails everyday.” 

“I don’t think they look that bad,” Jeannette said, wanting to defend the ducks. She tilted her head, getting a better look. “Well…” 

“They wear on you after a few weeks,” Estelle said, beckoning Jeannette up the stairs. ”You’ll see.” 

The frightening vision of these misshapen ducks waddling up the stairs after her was enough to quicken Jeannette’s pace, securing her safety on the landing where Estelle and Bess had already moved on. 

“You’ll be on the left,” Bess said, poking her head into a doorway and shouting, “Margo! Calm down, it’s just me. You’ve got a letter.” 

The landing had an overstuffed armchair, a bookcase where all the inhabitants leaned to the left, and a single window that sent slanting gray light onto the wooden floor that creaked under Jeannette’s uncertain feet. It looked like a cozy place to sit and read on a rainy day such as this if there hadn’t been a weight in the air. It wound between the branching doorways, under the floorboards, and sank into Jeannette’s bones. It was an anticipation that was as intoxicating as it was melancholy. 

The American homefront had known only one thing in the two years since they had found themselves in a simmering war and had taken it upon themselves to bring it to an unrelenting boil. In the heat of the flames of passion, love, and patriotism, the country was left with an immense shadow. The waiting. Like dolls abandoned in their beautifully crafted house, dust collected on their painted, smiling faces. 

Jeannette had known the numbing of waiting, the thrill of the letter in her hands, the way she held them so tightly. Her mother hadn’t understood, quite so deeply. Ada didn’t understand, quite so sharply. She had never felt it as strongly as she did in this house. Women in a war but not fighting for it. Women who were aching for those who did fight but putting up their own battles. It was almost poetic, the anticipation. 

This anticipation had become the drive behind her movement, the striking match to her move down to Norfolk. This fire needed to be stoked by more than just letters. Ink didn’t catch  quite like working for the war effort. Jeannette had been fond of the meter and beat of poetry, finding solace from the cole-tinged air in the yellowed pages of Maffei, and Shakespeare. Her brothers and their friends never understood her obsession, save one. He would sneak books from the library in Pittston and slide them under her window. Jeannette smiled at the memory. She had spent many summer nights poking her head out that window, looking for what literature had been left in the window box of daisies. 

“On the left, she said?” Jeannette looked at Estelle and pointed to the first door on the left. She made for the handle, palm grazing the cool metal when Estelle’s voice cut through the weight like a sharp knife. 

“Not that room!” She snapped. 

Jeannette would have stepped back if her shoes weren’t prone to wobbling so dangerously. She settled for snatching her hand back from the cold doorknob. Estelle’s fire had subsided but there was no apology, no retraction of her word. Jeannette didn’t offer an apology. She didn’t know what she had done. 

“Oh, Jeannette,” Bess said, coming to her rescue. “Not that left. That’s Carrie and...Oh never mind, I’ll show you.” 

Jeannette was ushered toward the next door and winced as Bess shouted at the inhabitant. “CONNIE! YOU’VE GOT A LETTER!” 

There was a long stretch of silence followed by the snuffling sounds of deep sleep. Jeannette’s prospective roommate seemed to be undisturbed by Bess’s screech while Jeanette’s own ears were still ringing. 

“Constance works nights with my roommate, Margaret,” Bess explained, her voice not at all strained by the scream from a moment before. “They are machinists on the aircraft for the Navy. We don’t see them very often.”

The carpet bag was suddenly quite heavy in Jeannette’s hand and tugged on her already aching shoulders. Bess noticed her wince and took pity on her new housemate. “Constance, I’m sorry but I have to turn on the light.” 

The dark, peaceful oasis was suddenly illuminated by the light overhead and the lamp on the bedside that Bess mercilessly flicked on. Jeannette glanced around the now visible furniture, that no longer looked like looming creatures from nightmares. An empty bed, a dresser opened to reveal barren drawers, and a desk with the stability of a drunken sailor fresh from sea duty.

“Well if it isn’t my favorite alarm clock,” The lump of blankets that Bess insisted was Constance, said, her voice muffled. “Morning, Beth,” 

“Very funny, Constance,”  Bess said. “Do you want your letter or not?” 

A calloused hand, scarred and rough from the late nights among the heavy machinery and scrabbling over metal carcasses of aircraft, withdrew from the quilts. Bess placed the offering in the waiting palm and, like the jaw of a predator, the hand snapped it up eagerly, drawing back to the safety of the quilts. 

“Do you need help unpacking?” Bess asked Jeannette brightly. “I’m an ace at moving. I’ve helped most everyone on the floor. Except Estelle, of course, she’s been here since before the “I” fell.” 

Bess was, indeed, an ace at packing and unpacking. This skill had been cultivated long before she had received her first letter, before she had been the smiling waitress at that destined cafe, when she was just Elizabeth Ferguson. Jeannette liked Bess. It was impossible not to. There was something about her short brown hair framing her face and the big brown eyes that made her so endearing and begged to be helpful. Jeannette couldn’t say no. 

“If you don’t mind,” She started to say. 

“I don’t!” Bess said, snatching up the carpet bag and throwing open the wardrobe on Jeannette’s side of the room.  

Jeannette had never known a great abundance of belongings. Most of her life, she had seen this as an embarrassment, to know few and to have few seemed to be a weakness. That was, until she had accepted the translator position in Norfolk and packed up what little she had into a carpet bag. The carpet bag that had housed her pieces from home, her few books, and the clothes that had been worn through all in the name of the war effort, was thrown open. Bessie Ferguson no longer stood in that room, but a whirlwind of limbs, flying clothes, and knick knacks being placed just so. 

“Where are you from, again?” Bessie asked, not waiting for a response, before plunging on with the next question. “Your brothers are in North Africa? I have a brother. He’s not fit for service, lucky bastard. Don’t tell Mrs. G that I swore-” 

“Beth,” Constance groaned, tossing back the covers. “What time is it?” 

“A quarter past four,” Jeannette supplied, glancing at her watch. 

“I was hoping to get another hour,” Constance sat up, letter still in hand. She smirked at its contents.  

“Another poem?” Bess asked, setting Jeannette’s Shakespeare and Maffei volumes on the teetering desk. “Connie’s beau is something of a poet.” 

Constance’s mussed curls bounced as she shook her head at the younger girl’s words.  “That’s generous of you, Beth,” 

Whether or not the gift of prose was possessed by her pen pal, Constance didn’t seem to mind. Her sea green eyes scanned the page, soaking up every thoughtful word and stumbling line. Her fire was stoked by the glint of steel at night and the scrabble of poems written to the “lady by the sea”. It mattered not that Norfolk was on a river, not the Atlantic, the letters were addressed like that and she would be lying if she said she didn’t like the title. 

Constance peeled back the blankets to set free the cat trapped beneath the coverlet, and chuckled at a particularly horrid, if not well meant, line. Her eyes fixed on Jeannette and extended a calloused hand to the newcomer. 

“Constance Ramos. You must be Jeannette,” 

The redhead nodded, accepting the rough hand in her own and giving it a shake. “I don’t suppose we will be seeing a lot of each other. I’m on the day shift.” 

Constance shrugged. “We’ll be like ships in the night. We keep busy around here.” 

“Passes the time,” Bess agreed. 

“Between letters?” Jeannette guessed. 

“We sound crazy about those damn letters, don’t we?” Constance said, chuckling softly. Her bare feet didn’t make a sound on the wooden floor as she stretched out her aching muscles. “They keep us going, more than a war effort ever could. I can keep bolting sheets of metal when I know my soldier is alive and when I don’t hear from him, it gets heavier. Do you understand?” 

“I do,” Jeannette murmured. 

Those letters had made a ship to steer among the waves of this new world Jeannette found herself in. Uprooted and unfamiliar, she clung to the letters signed with their scribbled J and the indiscernible followers. The thought of buying that ticket from Pennsylvania to Virginia had been encouraged by the letters in her pocket. If he could be thousands of miles from home for her, she could be transplanted to a new state for the aid of the troops.   

Connie glanced over the books on the teetering pile of poetry on the desk as Bess hummed along to some tune.  “You like to read?” 

“Yes,” Jeannette said. “My mother had mostly Italian books but I have some in English now.” 

The English volumes had been collected over the years, from the window box of daisies to the exchanges on the hill overlooking the breaker. The last book, The Grapes of Wrath, had been the final exchange on that hill. He had been given his orders and was only on leave for a few days. He had brought her a book. He had asked if he could write to her. Jeannette had said yes. Jeannette had cried. There had been no romantic declarations or bouts of infatuation. The words had been plain, just how he liked them and how Jeannette despised them. 

Bess shut the wardrobe with a snap and turned, her skirt swishing around her knees and damp socks. “You a translator on base?” 

Jeannette paused, not sure how much was allowed to be discussed. This attic seemed as safe as could be but what did those posters promise? Ships sunk by the careless whispers of loose lips. Glancing at the window, as if a German spy would be listening from the third floor windowsill, Jeannette nodded quickly. 

“Oh you’ll likely see Estelle!” Bess cried. “She’s working as a computer on base.” 

Dumbfounded at the disregard for secrecy, Jeannette sputtered. “Shouldn’t we-” 

“Who’s going to hear us?” Connie shook her head. “We all know how to keep a secret.” 

Bess nodded, setting the now empty carpet bag on the neatly made bed. She hadn’t been kidding about her skills in unpacking. Jeannette had barely had time for a single melancholy notion about the blouse she had worn to the movies with her friends or the books with the coal stained fingerprints. Jeannette hadn’t noticed this room becoming her own but in the space of a few moments, it looked like her childhood bedroom. The quilt was the same, the books were present and accounted for. It looked like home. 

“Speaking of secrets,” Bess said, snatching up the patchy tabby cat set free from Connie’s bed and cuddled it tight to her black sweater, not minding the fur shed across the yarn. “Are you going to hide that poem from us, Connie?” 

Constance blushed. “Maybe Jeannette can give it an educated read. I’m dying to know if my pen pal has a future in the arts,” 

Jeannette flushed. Her hobby of studying beat, meter, and stanza had been an asset to her application for the NIS but she was hardly a professional. Perhaps, more of an avid appreciator. Her love of poetry hadn’t been the final mark in her favor for her application. The real seal to her employment had been the native fluency that having an Italian mother and late father provided. 

“I’d be delighted to provide an opinion,” Jeannette smiled, sitting on the lumpy mattress where she would rest her weary bones for the foreseeable future. 

Constance cleared her throat, making a big show of unfolding the letter and straightening her flannel pajamas. 

“Someday I'll get back to you/ When the war is finally won/Then you know just what we'll do In the sheets-” 

The rest was cut off by Bess’s shriek of surprise and a cackling laugh from Constance. Jeannette’s cheeks flushed red but couldn’t help a bark of laughter escaping her mouth, never mind the good and upstanding standard that Grisham ladies were known to uphold. 

“Do you all get such poems?” Jeannette wheezed. 

Bess’s mouth gaped in shock at such a suggestion, only furthering Constance’s giggles. 

“I have never gotten such a thing from-” Bessie started to say but was cut off by the appearance of Estelle in the doorway. Drawn by the laughter and shrieks, her brow furrowed at the neatly put together room but the girls in various states of disarray found there. 

“What’s all this then?” 

“Another poem,” Bess said. “And no, Jeannette, I don’t get that kind of poetry from Dar-” 

“Don’t say their names, Bessie,” Estelle chided, in the same sharp tone. As if Bess had put her handle onto a door she didn’t understand what lay beyond. “You’ll get attached.” 

“I’d say it’s too late for that,” Constance said, folding up the letter and stowing it under her pillow. It wasn’t a disagreement but the statement of a fact. 

“You say their name and they can break your heart,” Estelle said. It sounded as a warning to Jeannette.

“I don’t think names hold much power over love,” Jeannette whispered, almost to herself but Estelle heard. 

Estelle’s calculations were rarely wrong. In mathematics and personal life, her calculations were quite often correct. Estelle was known to be the guardian of the third floor, taking the wandering women under her wing. While Jeannette had seen an angel, Estelle was a self described tragedy. She sought a way to shield each girl who crossed the wooden floors of Grisham Hall from such flights toward the sun. 

“We don’t tempt fate here,” Estelle said, firmly. 

A silence stretched between them. Estelle’s dark gaze and small stature didn’t lend itself to the imposing figure she truly was. Jeannette didn’t think she was afraid of Estelle. Jeannette didn’t know what she thought. There was a truth behind her words. The war bubbled and boiled around them and one couldn’t make too many plans for the future. Jeannette didn’t like to think more than one letter ahead. 

“Estelle is ever so jaded,” Bess said, chuckling softly, trying to break the tension. 

“I’m wise beyond my years,” Estelle winked at Bess but her steady gaze sent Jeannette’s skin crawling. “We don’t say their names so we don’t have to say goodbye.” 

                                       *        *       *

To the real horatio, 

I don’t suppose you can tell me where you are but know that I am safe in Norfolk. Mother will be forwarding any of your letters down to me. The girls I’m living with are quite the characters. 

Bess is a little younger than me but such a dear thing. She’s the embodiment of springtime. I don’t think I’ve ever met someone as happy as she is. Estelle seems to be the ringleader around here, like Adrian was to us in our childhood. I’m still forming an opinion on her. Constance is my roommate and we’ve gotten on like a house on fire. She works night shifts at the shipyard but when we do see each other it’s always good fun. We went to the cinema last week and saw Citizen Kane on her day off. She’s making songs on the piano out of her boyfriend’s poems. It’s very entertaining and has caused our landlady to faint out of shock more than once. There’s also a girl named Margo who lives on our floor. I haven’t met her for more than a few minutes but she seems lovely. 

I’m glad to know that your CO is gone, the dreadful beast. 

I’ve started to read the book you gave me. I’d like to read it to you sometime, like we did in high school on the breaker hill. If I sent you one of my books would you read it and think of me? 

Your letters, as always, brighten my day. I know you fear that you have nothing of any interest to say but I find anything you say of interest. You say your words are not poetic but there is poetry in everything you do. You want to fly through the sky and end the war. While that’s admirable, do you know that I don’t expect this from you? 

I’ve known you without money. I’ve known you without fame or excellence. I don’t care if you have either. 

You are probably bothered by my ‘damn flowery words’. We’ve grown up together. Surely you are fluent in my own language by now. 

It’s late. I have an early shift tomorrow. Be safe. 

Love, Nettie