Spring labor

Some days I wake up grumpy.
Some days I just let ‘er sleep.

Ray Scott

It’s become conscious thing, a matter of intent — the moment I open my eyes in the morning, I put myself in a good mood. On purpose. There’s nothing forced or artificial about it, nor does it have anything to do with shallow “positivity” nonsense. I simply acknowledge that I’m alive and well, enjoying good fortune and dreams coming true.

But every now and then, often before my first sip of coffee, I see something that has the potential to make me cranky. Dog shit in the hallway, for example. Needing to dump tanks sooner than I’d planned. A dead battery somewhere.

On this particular morning, it was an article posted to the wwWeb by a Columbus-area TV station. It reported that residents have until July 1st to surrender, sell or otherwise lawfully dispose of any firearms magazine with a capacity of 30 rounds or more.

The ordinance mandating that deadline was passed by Columbus City Council last week. Local laws like that have violated state law since 2006, but that didn’t stop the Democrat-dominated city from enacting it.

Readers who don’t know Columbus might be under the impression that it’s a solid Heartland metropolis, traditional American values and all. And it was — once. Not anymore.

Truth is, other than keeping up with old friends, these days I don’t pay a lot of attention to the state of my birth. It doesn’t resemble the Ohio of my childhood, and once-great Columbus has gone all the way to hell.

Now it’s banning firearms. Or trying to.

Our move to Arkansas is looking better every day.

Givin’ a damn’s getting harder all the time…

Ray Scott

We drove past our turn onto the county road outside Yellville this morning and rolled on toward Gray Spring, which is several miles farther south. A visit to this Ozarks jewel was overdue, and besides, we wanted to see how much last week’s heavy rains had affected its flow.

The low-water bridge near the spring was running almost a foot deep, a genuine waterfall forming on the downstream side. Sweet mountain water bubbled enthusiastically from the well head. Gray Spring was as strong as we’ve seen it.

When we arrived, a pickup truck pulling a trailer was pumping water into two large tanks. Naturally, we filled our Nalgene bottles. And Miss Smudge got her first real experience with water, frolicking comically in the shallows on the bridge.

On The Mountain afterward, we took the Ranger to the homesite and began what will be a long process of clearing The Amphitheater. Using only hand tools today, we worked our way from a line marking the rear wall of the house to a small flat area. We limbed-up large trees and took down a number of smaller ones, creating a respectable brush pile.

The scent of fresh-cut cedar was intoxicating.

At that point we called it good and had lunch right there. Smudge dashed around us and rolled in the dirt. It was the first outing in our Rocky over-the-calf snake boots, though we didn’t see any snakes. Watching ticks jump on and off of us all day, though, we’re glad we doused ourselves in 40% DEET.

Our backhoe guy showed up later and resumed work on the septic system.

The Mountain and its surroundings are greening. Redbud and cherry are in bloom, and dogwood won’t be far behind them. Temperatures this afternoon climbed into the low 80s.

It was yet another perfect day at our favorite place on Earth. We made a little progress of our own, and so did one of our contractors.

Simple sandwiches for dinner. Hot showers. We’ll sleep well tonight.

Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.

#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath

#LetsGoBrandon #FJB