Heard a thumping noise in the basement and went down and found Ben in the cellar. He told me the wood around the old door – way over 100 years old – in the basement had rotted and the door was jamming shut so he built a new doorframe. He also put a cover on the heating vent from the dryer. And showed me that the sliding door on the barn had sprung a nut or bolt during the recent windstorms and was in danger of falling off. It seems sometimes it is as much Ben’s house as mine, I don’t notice these things. He told me I could come in and out of the basement any time, and I told him it was my ambition to never go in the basement. My wife knows about this stuff, but I have no business in basements. He laughed.

The big stuff is done, he is cleaning up the loose ends, things I would never see or think about. Because of him, the house has a different case. The roof doesn’t leak. The windows are tight. The doors and windows work, the pipes and wires new and efficient. The barn is dry and solid.

Ben does this great dance with Frieda, who has seen him on and off for the past three years, at the old farm and this one. She always grows and barks at him, and huffs and growls – she doesn’t like men, like her human. This morning, I found the two of them sitting side by side out in the dog pen where Ben was replacing the old dryer vent. Did she come after you?, I asked. Few people have ever braved a fence to get to Frieda. “Oh, she made some noise,” said Ben,” but she’s just an old sweetheart.” He knows the secret of dealing with Frieda. Don’t listen to her.

Ben has scoured the old farm and fixed things I didn’t even know where there. He comes in the morning, replaces a rotten sill or busted window, trims a stubborn door and fixes a swollen storm window, then goes off to his other jobs. We talked for a few minutes, and then he is gone. Ben is shy, quiet, and isn’t into transitions. I gave him a book on handmade knives – he loves handmade knives – and something to bring him into the digital age. He loves the book on knives, we’ll see about the digital age. I owe him a lot, and wish I could have given him more.  I told him this is as much his house as ours and I think he feels that way. I hope he stays around forever, but when the gravel arrives for the driveway and feeding area, we’ll be done.

At least until he drives by and sees a shutter hanging loose.