The days are getting shorter, and they’ll get shorter still before the trend turns around in late December. This morning I noticed that I need my headlamp when I go outside with the dogs before 7am. It stays darker longer anyway here on the homesite, owing to trees and terrain to our east, but this was the first time I acknowledged how the creep of fall crimps our daylight.
All those solar-charged lights we’ve scattered around the place are taking a hit, too, especially after gray days like the last two. When there’s less (and lower) sun and daylight hours are abbreviated, that’s what happens. Only one of the fixtures now stays on ’til morning.
The wind has picked up lately on The Mountain as well. That’s more of a weather thing, though the kinds of systems rolling through this time of year are bound to create disturbances that boost our breezes.
It’s fall.
“If it was third down, and you needed four yards, if you’d get the ball to Walt Garrison, he’d get you five. And if it was third down and you needed twenty yards, if you’d get the ball to Walt Garrison, by God, he’d get you five.”
Don Meredith on Walt Garrison, who died Wednesday at the age of 79
With the option of attending the Turkey Trot either Friday or Saturday, Deb and I picked today — opening ceremonies, smaller crowd, more relaxed atmosphere. We meant to get there early, too, to avoid any parking hassles.
Over the last seven days we’d accumulated two full bags of trash, so we tossed those into the truck (along with Deb’s scooter and crutches, plus two folding chairs) and swung by the transfer station on our way to the festival. We were disappointed to find it closed, but I can’t say we were shocked.
See, the 77th Annual Turkey Trot may not be big, but it’s a big deal ’round here. Numerous businesses and offices close during the event.
Miller Hardware was open, however, so we were able to pick a large Rubbermaid Brute to contain our smelly garbage. We needed one of those anyway.
The festival itself was everything we remembered from last year — warm, patriotic, simple and undeniably Country. We saw friends and we ran into neighbors, and we met people today for the first time who were as welcoming as folks we already knew.
We bought “Ring of Fire” souvenir t-shirts and a slew of raffle tickets. We’re now entered in six drawings — four guns, a kayak and a side of beef.
No doubt about it, this is our community now. Other than having a Home on The Mountain, nothing makes us happier than that.
By the way, on this global “Day of Jihad,” we didn’t expect the Turkey Trot to be visited by Hamas or its sympathizers. Chances are they wouldn’t make it more than a couple of miles into Ozarkansas before being dispatched.
Still, our mindset is one of preparedness and vigilance. Deb and I rolled heavy today. I’m confident we weren’t alone.
Before leaving town, we ducked into Crooked Creek Pub for beers and lunch. We enjoyed pleasant conversation with the proprietors, Paul and LouAnn. At one point we witnessed another example of how life works in our little town.
LouAnn picked up her phone and made a brief call. After it ended she walked out the front door with a small parcel in her hand, returning later with another package.
She told us where she’d been and why — the pub kitchen was almost out of deli wraps, the sheets of parchment paper on which they serve food. She’d called Carolyn (of Carolyn’s Razorback Ribs) and asked if she could spare a few wraps until Monday.
Well, it turned out that Carolyn was running short on ranch dressing. LouAnn had plenty of that to spare, so she walked it down the street and they made the swap.
If you don’t see why that’s cool, I can’t help you. We love it here.
As day eased into evening on The Mountain, Deb and I talked about how our Life here is taking shape, and the particular shape it’s taking.
Truth be told, both of us would be perfectly content spending all of our time on these 20 acres, venturing out only when necessary for provisions or administrative reasons. Our personalities easily could accommodate the isolation.
Nothing prevents us from doing that right now.
And yet we come down from The Mountain once or twice a week when we really don’t have to. Often we stay out longer than necessity dictates. We grab a meal at this or that eatery. We stop at a store and browse the aisles.
We go to the annual Farm Bureau dinner and rub elbows with Americans who live close to the land. We attend the Turkey Trot, lingering at booth after booth, and we engage.
We talk to friends. We talk to strangers.
As Deb says, “We’re still foreigners here.” No one treats us like we are, but we know that we have much to learn about this place and its people. The only way to do that is to go out into the community.
Besides, we truly like these folks.
There’s one other aspect of getting to know our neighbors which, while it may not be obvious, dovetails with our preparedness mindset. When (not if) the shit hits the fan, being familiar with — and familiar to — the people around us will be indispensable. I’d go so far as to say that it’ll be crucial.
A lone-wolf survival strategy is, for all but a very few, pure fantasy. Deb and I don’t fancy ourselves latter-day Jeremiah Johnsons. We know we benefit from making connections and gaining a better understanding of how this land lays.
Ultimately, even though we don’t crave a shallow social scene, we don’t mind socializing. In fact, as we did today at the Trot and the Pub, we thoroughly enjoy it.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB
