I ‘ll begin today’s post with a flashback, a pair of images that bookend our American Life on The Mountain (so far). It was on December 2nd, 2021, two years ago today, that our backhoe guy waded into these tangled woods and began scratching out what today is our Home.
Here’s what the north approach to the homesite looked like at the end of that first day:
And this is what it looked like this afternoon:
Yes, two years is a long time. It would’ve been great to have come this far faster and arrived sooner, without false starts and complications.
But y’know what? We wouldn’t change a thing — the road we traveled is the one that brought us here, and we don’t regret a single step we took.
Happy anniversary to us.
The big news of the day is that Deb has rejoined the ranks of the independently mobile. She piloted Mercy to Flippin for gas and groceries, then out to The Fred, into Yellville and back to The Mountain, without undue (or unexpected) discomfort.
I can only imagine how liberating it must be for her. These past two months I’ve sensed her frustration, seen her impatience, watched her chafe against relying on me to get her around. Her release from bondage couldn’t come at a better time, either — she’ll be able to drive herself to that new job she starts on Monday.
While in town we grabbed a quick bite at Breadeaux Pizza, then moved next door to have a beer and visit with our friends at Crooked Creek Pub. This evening was Yellville’s “Christmas on the Square” event, complete with parade and tree-lighting ceremony, and when we left the pub we crossed the street to join the festivities.
Like the annual Turkey Trot, as well as the weekly “Music on the Square” during the summer, this holiday fête reminded us how very fortunate we are to have made this small town our Home. The celebration was genuine, the people real, the whole affair simple and right.
A local politician had donated graham crackers, chocolate bars and marshmallows, left them out on a table with roasting forks, started a campfire in a planter on the courthouse grounds, and the locals made their own s’mores. When the crowd moved from the area in front of the stage to the curb for the parade, they left chairs and belongings behind, unattended, without having to worry that they’d be messed with.
The parade lasted less than 15 minutes. It was so humble that it moved us to tears. Merry Christmas.
As Deb guided Mercy through the darkness, up The Mountain and toward Home, she said, “Just look at this — isn’t it beautiful?” Truly, that’s our reaction to this patch of land, every single day.
We’re so very much at peace on The Mountain that it wouldn’t be hard for us to stay up here and never leave. Seriously, we easily could become a hermit couple. But then, as we did today, we experience the community around us, and we realize that it’s a rich and essential part of being here. If we didn’t come down off The Mountain and spend time with our neighbors, we’d miss some of the best of this American Life.
We’ve found our place. I sincerely hope you find yours.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB