We had ourselves a bit of a moment last night. We’d taken the dogs out at the usual time, around 9pm. As soon as we stepped from the camper onto the driveway, both Deb and I noticed the strong smell of smoke in the cool night air.
It was intense enough to sting her eyes. To me it smelled like more than woodsmoke — a burn barrel, maybe, or a trash pile. Or it could’ve been a structure fire.
The reason it got our attention is that we live in the woods now, and that makes a difference. Sure, we’re accustomed to our neighbors lighting off brushpiles and such, but last night we weren’t 100% satisfied with that theory.
I got in the truck and drove out as far as the county road. The air was clearer down below. I saw no fires at residences along the way. Nothing obvious was burning on the north side of Hall Mountain.
The air had cleared condiderably back at the homestead by the time I returned. Whatever it was blew through quickly. It hadn’t pushed us into panic, but we’re not so proud to deny that it gave us pause.
This was to be a recovery day for me. I’m practicing the wisdom of taking time to re-charge after two or three days of work, and I’m fortunate that I can do that. But, as I’ve said before, I can’t go an entire day without doing something constructive.
I got started before Deb had left for work. It’s a morning ritual now to unfurl the flags that fly from the northwest corner of the cabin. Shortly after we put them up last month, we discovered that in the slightest overnight breeze, they trip the security light’s motion sensor. We have to strap them to their poles at sundown every day.
(No, we don’t take down the American flag at night. We don’t shine a light on it, either. I’m well aware that runs afoul of “flag law,” but my personal perspective is that Patriots have marched and fought and died under that flag on the darkest nights. They didn’t strike the colors at dusk, and neither will I. If you don’t like that, you can kiss my ass.)
Branches on a cedar tree standing near the transformer pole (the one I refused to cut down unless the utility company told me I had to) have grown to within a couple of feet of the power line. I knew I’d have to take care of that sooner rather than later — it came down to a choice between the pole saw or our long-reach hedge trimmer.
Borrowing an extension from the pole saw gave me the length I needed to use the more manageable trimmer. The job was done in less than a minute.
While I had the tool out, I clipped another cedar branch that was about to start triggering the trailcam trained on the camper.
One thing that contributed to making the original fire pit look good yesterday was raking a perimeter around the ring. It occurred to me that I hadn’t yet done that at White Rock. I grabbed a leaf rake out of the shed, walked to the secluded spot and pulled back the ground clutter four or five feet.
It’s not permanent, of course. More leaves will fall and, for safety’s sake (especially before we burn in dry weather), I’ll have to do it again and again. But doing it now, today, exposed roots and small rocks and gave me a chance to remove a bunch of them.
A small thing. A simple thing. Worth my time.
This afternoon, I walked up the trail I cut and cleared last week. That really was all I had in mind to do — to the tree stand and back, stopping and lingering when I felt like it.
Something kept drawing me on. I paused awhile at Dancing Tree. Then I continued upward, bushwhacking a little but mostly staying on trails we’d cut, until I reached the summit.
There I shed my heavy shirt, sat down on the bench, slugged some water and had a snack.
On the ground in front of me, amid leaves fallen from oaks and hickories and such, was a three-lobed sassafras leaf. I’d seen them up there before, but I still haven’t gotten ’round to finding the tree (or trees).
I must do that this year. I’ve been chewin’ on sassafras sprigs since I was a kid, and I’m in the mood for some tea.
Just as I always look forward to fall foliage at its “peak,” so I predict I’ll anticipate the time each spring when we enjoy the clearest view of our surroundings — mountains and valleys hidden by greenery most of the year.
Today may have been that time this year. Just spectacular.
The weather right now is perfect, too. Days are between 65°F and 75°F, and at night it dips to between 35°F and 45°F. This is what’s become known as a “shoulder season,” and it suits me.
Hell, every bit of this suits me just fine.
With dinner this evening, a first for me — I harvested young redbud blooms from a tree on The Mountain, and I used them to garnish my salad.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB