Way back in a holler
Branden Martin
I once heard a low moanin’ song
The sound it was carried
It seemed like the trees sang along
Those hills whispered softly
And sure as I heard it was gone
My only objective yesterday was the gas run. That’s it. As long as I kept the dogs happy and the generator hummin’, I could take a down day — no crises, no real exertion, no sweating my ass off.
Around 4pm it became obvious that the black tank needed dumping for the first time since it was serviced last Sunday. Ordinarily that’s no big deal, but given the questionable condition of the system it’s a far more deliberate and involved process. The worst part was that everything that needed doing was on the sunny side of the RV at the hottest hour of the day.
That went well, considering. It also consumed a lot of water — we’re erring on the side of excess for now, trying to bring the neglected black tank back to normal function — which meant that my next job was to refill the fresh-water tank.
When I’d finished, I toweled-off and slumped into a recliner to catch my breath. Then it was time for the dogs’ evening feeding, and when I took Smudge out I saw that a gust of wind had caught the small canopy over the generator and blown it upside-down against my truck. Well, shit.
I took care of that, and the dogs, and went back inside to await Deb’s return from Harrison.
Running just ahead of a line of nasty storms approaching from the west, she arrived shortly before 9pm. Mercy was jammed full with stuff she’d removed from Ernie.
Before we could unload, however, she helped me strike the canopy over the dogs’ pen and batten down other hatches outside the rig. We got everything into the fifth-wheel mere moments before the expected strong wind and heavy rain barreled into The Mountain.
I shut down and stowed the generator (and its canopy) later, during a brief lull in the downpours. It rained and blew hard pretty much all night long, but we suffered no apparent damage.
Deb, by the way, had worked non-stop yesterday for ten hours, putting a spit-shine on the interior of the motorhome. She’s back at it today, with only the galley and the cockpit to clean. Naturally, she’s doing an amazing job.
Daybreak on this Saturday was calm, clear and dry, though everything around us was wet. Deb and I slept a little later than usual and we moved a little slower. I waited ’til after she left for Harrison to shut the windows and fire-up the air conditioning.
I can’t think of a single pressing thing I have to do today. That’s how yesterday started, too, of course. The day will bring what it brings.
When I sit down to write these posts, often early in the morning, usually I don’t know exactly how they’ll turn out. Yes, each day brings what it brings, but my mind is always full of other ideas and thought, joys and concerns, observations.
Lately I haven’t said a single thing about politics, culture or current events. It’d be a stretch to say that’s intentional — it’s more the result of being busy as hell sustaining our crazy existence on The Mountain. That’s what’s important to me, here and now, so all you’re getting is day-in-the-life posts.
Many times over the years I’ve been counseled to “turn off the news.” Well-meaning folks assure me that my life will improve as a result. And for the last two weeks, that’s exactly what I’ve done — I haven’t watched a second of cable news, and through social media I’m only vaguely aware of current events.
(Just so you know, I don’t give a rat’s ass whose cocaine it was.)
Is my life better? Well, I certainly feel better, mentally and emotionally lighter without the burden of knowledge. What I’ve become, accidentally, is ignorant of things that will affect me. I’m not sure that improves my life.
It’s a balance, of course. Knowledge is a product of intent. I’ll remain rightly focused on what’s in front of me, while working my way back to being a properly informed citizen.
I’ll sing about whiskey
Branden Martin
And watch you drink with me
And tell you this story of mine
This coming week, the way it’s shaping up, is a full plate. Monday the mobile RV tech who worked on our black tank will return to seal the fifth-wheel’s roof and catch a few other small things. Tuesday or Wednesday we’ll be in Harrison to add a little propane to Ernie’s tank and move him to a less-in-demand campsite. And Thursday or Friday the electrical contractor will return to set our temporary meter pole (pictured, already built).
The following week, if everything else goes well, holds the prospect of more excavation here on The Mountain. That unappealing hole hammered from the rocky slope across the driveway from the RV is due for some attention, the kind that’ll significantly advance our plans for a permanent structure on the homesite — a house, that is. We’re not getting ahead of ourselves or anything, but we don’t mean to live in this rig forever.
Tomorrow we’ll both be here, catching up and doing chores. Life is good.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB