Chalk it up to stubbornness. Call it denial. To me, it’s been a matter of personal pride — I refused to do The Winter Things until after the calendar turned to 2024. That was Monday, of course.
It wasn’t until yesterday morning that I broke out my Merrell colder-weather boots. We didn’t switch on the camper’s propane-fueled furnace, which was repaired two months ago, ’til after sundown. (We’d been running a pair of electric space heaters up to that point.)
I donned my Carhartt winter coat for the first time when I took the dogs out last night.
In related news, my feet are warm again. That old-school canvas coat kept the chill out, too. And the pleasure of gas heat is almost indescribable.
This was my extra mile. I met the change-of-seasons on my own terms. As far as I’m concerned, Old Man Winter blinked first.
A few things around the homestead bug me every time I see them. Along the edge of the driveway, for example, the rocks (boulders, actually, in some places) could stand some neatening-up. The south approach needs to be cleared better where it meets the road. Before the end of winter, and when the wind permits, I have to burn the brush I pulled out of The Amphitheater.
Stuff like that.
In the woods down from the picnic table is a relatively flat area we’ve been planning to develop as a parking pad, maybe even build another small shed toward the back. Because it was a handy dumping spot while excavation was underway, it grew a debris pile, most of that brush and chunks of trees that were knocked down.
I was in just the right mood this morning to begin tackling that project. I mean, how hard could it be?
The answer to that question — exactly as hard as carrying a hundred armloads of brush out of the woods, throwing each into the bed of my truck, driving down to our monster brushpile and unloading it. And repeating the process three times.
I broke out a chainsaw, too, and the pole saw, to do what little clearing had to be done. I dispatched several fairly large fallen cedars, which had been on the ground so long that they turned to powder under my saw.
A few hours later, my legs weak and wobbly by then, I stood at the edge of the driveway and admired what I’d accomplished. Though I hadn’t yet removed any of the rocks, it looked good — definitely well on its way to becoming what we’ve envisioned.
But the longer I looked at the spot, the more I pictured and imagined, the less certain I was about how we should use it.
Would this be a better place for our first fire pit than the area we cleared in the woods not far away? It’d be closer to the cabin, certainly, and to the picnic table. The spot already is accessible to the Ranger, which would make it much easier to bring in firewood.
I ran my thoughts by Deb. She’s open to the idea.
When I get back to it and move the rocks — tomorrow, probably, but we’ll see — I’ll bring a chair and sit awhile. For me, though convenience and proximity are advantages, the space has to feel right.
I’ll let you know.
Ubi Libertas Blog closed out 2023 with some pretty candid commentary. The next 18 months are going to be damned tough, as I see it, and I had a lot to say about that.
I’m not done yet.
Today I want to touch on a couple of topics, firearms and immigration, in ways that most readers may not have considered. I don’t claim that my observations are unique, simply uncommon.
Everyone (with a functioning brain) knows that the State is coming for our guns. Disarming the People is a dream of progressives. Patriots are right to be concerned about the creep of “gun control.”
That said, and as essential as the birthright to keep and bear arms is, I say that defending the Second Amendment has become a distraction. Being single-minded about that issue draws our attention away from other serious threats to Liberty.
Like what?
The most obvious is speech — the Thinkpol of Orwell’s fiction has come to pass. The assault extends to means of communication and our freedom to associate.
An overbearing State presumes to dictate how we travel and where we travel. And an onerous regime of taxes, permits and arbitrary regulations constrains every aspect of home and hearth.
Food and water are inspected, approved and controlled by government agents. Attempts to produce or collect one’s own are strangled. Self-sufficiency is punished.
Commerce is more thoroughly and insidiously regulated than most Americans comprehend. Personal financial transactions are monitored relentlessly and reported secretly to the Permanent State. Barter and other forms of “handshake commerce” are discouraged or banned altogether.
But hey — you’re properly armed, as Nature intends and the Constitution guarantees. You say you’re prepared to defend the country you love against a tyrannical government.
How much more do you need to see?
There’s more to Liberty than guns and ammo.
Wise up — tyranny is here. Resist. Disobey. Live like an American.
To set the table for the next topic, here are a couple of assertions often made by latter-day Patriots:
- When (not if) the shit hits the fan and government deploys its armed agents against citizens, most military and police will quit rather than take up arms against their fellow Americans.
- The reason that progressives favor open borders and refuse to stem the invasion of illegals is that it’ll create a Democrat supermajority, an electorate that’ll keep the Left in power, in perpetuity.
Both of those are true, I believe, or at least intellectually honest. Generally they’re seen as separate and distinct, however, neither having any bearing on the other.
And that’s a problem. Here’s why.
If the State wanted to put down a domestic uprising and most of its uniformed personnel defected, so the theory goes, it wouldn’t have the forces necessary to prevail. Even if it resorted to conscription, there just aren’t enough Americans willing to shoot Americans.
(Never mind Doctor Dementia’s oft-issued threat to use F-16s on citizens.)
Now, look at the illegals flooding across the southern border. Who are they?
The majority of the invaders are males of military age.
America is nothing more than a meal ticket to them. They express no patriotism and have no loyalty to this country (only to the regime that lured them here). They’re not Americans to begin with, so they feel no kinship to you and me.
Give ’em a uniform and a paycheck. Hand ’em an M4 and show ’em who the “enemy” is. I assure you that they’d have no apprehension about shooting God-fearing rednecks in the face.
(Before you remind me that illegal aliens can’t serve in the US military, stop — it’s happening in police departments already. The armed services won’t be far behind.)
Things aren’t quite as cut-and-dried as the social-media memes we share. Chanting “USA! USA!” won’t get the job done. The way forward is harder than any of us can imagine.
Dark and difficult days are ahead. Put your affairs in order.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB
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