This afternoon, while my daughters broke down the pile of branches I’d trimmed at the back of the house, I got the ladder out to caulk the holes in the wall left from the original internet satellite dishes.  Hearing the noise, my younger daughter came around to help.  Sweetheart that she is, she braved the incredibly bouncy ladder to fill the holes while I held the ladder for her.

My older daughter came around to see what was going on.  In the process of looking at her sister caulking the higher set of holes, she noticed something very strange, under the eaves of the second floor roof.

Yes.  That’s right.

Linoleum tiles.

Why?

Why is that there?

The Re-Farmer