If I were watering the grass I planted, generally I’d do it in the morning. Yes, I know there are two schools of thought about that. Some folks say evening, or even at night, but I was taught that morning is much better.
This run of rainy days (or days when it rains, anyway) means that the garden hose stays coiled up on the ground next to the hydrant. Today began with a brief thunderstorm that backed off to a gentle, soaking shower — just perfect, just enough.
It was still raining when Deb left for work, the time I usually move outside. Today I unfurled the camper’s canopy, set up my chair and stayed there awhile.
That also had the effect of breaking me out of a rut. My perspective on the woods and its inhabitants was different today.
The star of the show this morning was a northern cardinal, a male. He seemed quite intrigued with me, for some reason, and hung around a long time.
When at last I’d finished my coffee and stood up to get on with my day, I noticed how thick the vegetation has gotten. It seems to close in more each day. The two nooks we carved out — the shed site at the south end and the fire pit at the north — are shaded, dark and cozy, even during daylight hours.
White Rock is different. I created more of a clearing there. It’s still cool and shady, but the canopy overhead admits more sunlight.
I walked back that way, pausing along the trail and marveling at how well it turned out. It might be the best work I’ve done here.
Regular readers of Ubi Libertas Blog know that I do flashbacks and observe dates I find significant. Today I’d like to mark the first anniversary of our fifth-wheel travel trailer arriving on The Mountain.
We wouldn’t move into it for another five weeks. During that time we cleaned it, repaired it and made it as ready as we could, along with hauling load after load over from the motorhome in Harrison.
This tired, sometimes-balky camper is serviceable living quarters. Buying it was a great decision, despite its problems. What makes it downright wonderful is that it allowed us to live here sooner than we thought we would.
And we’re looking forward to the day when it rolls down the road in someone else’s care.
Because yesterday essentially was a washout, I had more time than usual to catch up on news and commentary, current events and social media. I don’t immerse in that stuff the way I once did, but I do like knowing WTF is going on in the world.
A couple of things stood out to me.
I caught a video clip of an exchange between Joy Behar and Bill Maher — she, of course, co-hosts a left-wing Estrogen Hour on a mainstream network, and he was a guest. She posed this rambling question:
“I’m nervous about saying anything against Biden, because I feel as though — not that I have so much power, and you have more than I do, obviously — but are you afraid that you might, you know, influence the people who are on the fence?”
This was his reply:
“I think you lose all credibility. I do. My bond with my audience has always been, ‘I don’t pull a punch.’ My bond with my audience is, ‘You’re not going to like everything I say, but you know I’m saying what I really think is true.'”
That crystallizes who these people are, doesn’t it? She’s in the tank for all things progressive, afraid to criticize those with whom she agrees ideologically. He doesn’t recognize sacred cows.
One is worthy of respect. The other is not.
Thing is, the Right is treating Behar’s admission as if such lack of intellectual honesty is confined to the Left — and that, it seems to me, is itself dishonest.
Pot, meet kettle.
An unwillingness to criticize is pretty common among Trump supporters, dontcha think? Hell, I’d go so far as to say it’s typical. Let’s just admit that, okay?
I will, at least.
Bill Maher has my respect, in the same way that Bernie Sanders and Tucker Carlson have my respect. Trump will have my vote in November. I’m not afraid to criticize or disagree with or oppose any of them.
Tell the truth. Let the chips fall.
I’m a member of a Facebook group on firearms, specifically rimfires. Most participants live in the US, though a few hail from other countries.
This morning I read a post from a Brit. It began,
“I’ve had my FAC for a year now and love getting out all the time. My license has a condition that I can only shoot the land deemed suitable by my FAO.”
The guy went on to ask a question, but I was stuck on “FAC” and “FAO.” I did some research.
In the UK, anyone who wants to buy, possess or move about the countryside with a gun must first secure a Firearms Certificate (FAC). The citizen must justify to a government Firearms Officer (FAO) why they need a gun, and if a certificate subsequently is granted, it’ll include a list of conditions, permissions and prohibitions.
There’s a similar process for obtaining a Shotgun Certificate (SGC). And, incidentally, “self-defence” [sic] is not an allowable justification to seek an FAC or SGC.
As you might expect, an FAC is required to buy gun parts and ammunition. The certificate stipulates how much ammo may be purchased at once, as well as limiting the total number of rounds an individual may possess.
After learning all that today, I closed my computer and slumped in my chair. I know there are US states with laws nearly as restrictive as the UK’s, and I realize that anti-Liberty forces are bent on totally disarming private citizens.
But in that moment, I found myself overwhelmed with gratitude that we won the Revolution. I’m thankful to have been born an American and glad to be a resident of the free state of Arkansas.
Volunteer of the Day: Princess Tree (Paulownia tomentosa). Invasive, but it puts down good roots and grows fast.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB