This being the first day of May, of course I’m going to mention that it was three years ago today that we took a westward bearing and sailed into blue water. I wanted to include a photo here to mark the occasion, so I looked back through our images from that day. It wasn’t long before I knew exactly which one I’d use.
It was one of Dipstick’s favorite stations whenever we were underway — on Deb’s lap, scanning the road ahead, watching the scenery change. This picture was snapped not long after we left Second Chance Ranch. His coat was still thin, due to his Cushing’s, but he was well on his way to recovery.
Over the next year, our littlest road warrior experienced the whole adventure through that massive windshield. And he made it to The Mountain with us.
He’s been gone now for just over a week.
And y’know what? I still talk to him every day. I don’t give a single damn about what you think of that. I miss the little shit. We all do, terribly.
Today gave me every indication that it’d turn out just like yesterday — inconsequential and not very productive. I wasn’t happy about that and momentarily resisted the vibe. Then I paused, thought, and decided to ride this horse in the direction it’s going.
(When you think about it, that’s all we can do anyway.)
My view as I talk with Deb during her morning commute is captured in today’s header image — our driveway and the lower level, burn barrel and cordwood, our road and the property on the other side. I think it’s worth pointing out that on days when I say that I “turn and face the woods,” that’s patently absurd — up here, no matter which way I turn, I face the woods.
After today’s call ended, casting about for something useful to do, I went down to the woodpile and pulled off several lengths of cedar. I used my splitting fixture to produce a good armload of kindling.
I try to do that once a week. The smaller split pieces will season faster, and honestly I’m trying to get ahead of next winter a little at a time. But whether we burn it indoors in the woodstove or outdoors in the fire pits, a good supply of crispy kindling will come in handy.
I stacked today’s work on top of the pile where I’d gotten it. I plan to leave it uncovered ’til fall, when I’ll tarp it or box it.
When I was done, I walked over to see how my grass seed was doing. I knelt down and pulled back the straw, and sure enough, I found wispy green blades beginning to sprout. I checked several places and satisfied myself that things are headed in the right direction.
I didn’t want to trample the plot, so I didn’t go far. But I did look down toward the south end of the lower level, and I was thrilled to see a distinct green haze above the grayish straw mulch.
It wasn’t surprising to find that patch doing better than the rest — it’s outside the leach field, with good soil and without the gravel put down over the drain lines. Anyway, apparently I can grow grass.
I’m working behind the scenes on that “practical not political” post I talked about recently. It’s pretty much written. It still needs photos, most of which will come from my (considerable) archives.
The rest I’ll need to take, and some of those involve two knives that often show up in discussions of “budget bushcraft.” (That’s not what the post is about.) I brought them out to the fire pit and grabbed a dozen or so images.
And then I moved back indoors, did some more writing and caught up on the news — campus unrest, Trump found in contempt, border invasion. Stuff like that. Nothing that rocks my world directly.
Thunder (but not a drop of rain) rolled through mid-afternoon. That reminded me that we likely won’t see any precipitation until the weekend — about a 70% chance of storms Friday, Saturday and Sunday. I rolled out the hose and saturated the growing grass.
UPS came up The Mountain later with two 20-round boxes of ammo I’d ordered. Specifically, a different kind of snake shot. More about that in a future post.
And that was my day.
“Only that day dawns to which we are awake. There is more day to dawn. The sun is but a morning star.”
Henry David Thoreau
So here we are. Three years after launching a journey that’d become the trip of a lifetime, I split kindling and watered grass seed I planted a week ago. Deb processed transactions at the drive-up window of a small-town bank. In Arkansas, for cryin’ out loud.
We’ve come so far. So very much has changed. We predicted none of it. How could we have known?
From this vantage point, I find myself wanting to explain what happened, the how and the why of the odyssey that brought us to The Mountain. I’m tempted to list the changes, to measure them somehow.
And then I realize there’s no sense in any of that. What we’ve done is there only for us to remember and to cherish, an experience that shaped us in unimagined ways.
Deb and I aren’t the same people we were three years ago. We found a new world on the road, and we’re creating a whole new Life in Ozarkansas.
The most gratifying thing, certainly the biggest surprise, is that we’ve inspired others. We didn’t set out to do that, but we know it’s true because people have told us so. We’ve received many heartfelt messages from folks who follow what we’ve done and were moved to make huge changes in their own lives.
That blows my mind, frankly. Knowing that simply by doing what we do we’ve had a meaningful effect on the lives of others is something we treasure.
Now we face forward. We advance, confidently. There’s so much more to do.
I used to say, “You ain’t seen nothin’ yet.” I believe that’s still true. Stay tuned.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB