My chore path was longer than usual this morning. Along with regular tasks and before resuming work on the cabin, I intended to wrap up our pre-winter preps before the weather turns too much colder.
Wake-up temp today was 28°F. I waited for the sun to climb past the treetops and warm the driveway and lower level before I got crackin’.
First, I connected a short length of hose to the drain valve on the IBC tote, opened the tap and got it started draining. Leaving gravity to do what gravity does without my help, I grabbed a bucket and walked down to the wood yard for a little light Country exercise.
Building a proper fire in the woodstove requires kindling. And while there’s nothing wrong with splitting it as we need it, I’d rather get ahead of the game and produce a ready supply, at least to start with. So that’s what I did.
Our splitting fixture makes it easy and no less therapeutic than if I’d used a hatchet. I filled one five-gallon bucket with hardwood, then fetched a second bucket and split an equal amount of red cedar.
Deb’s cousin drove by. We caught up, and we talked about kindling. He eschews “the Boy Scout method” (the way I do it, that is) and doesn’t use tinder or kindling at all — he lights his propane torch and directs it at the base of the log lay ’til it catches.
That’s fine. To each his own. Myself, I still enjoy the hell outta makin’ fire the old-fashioned way.
The guy who owns the undeveloped property across from us, visiting from Louisiana over Thanksgiving, joined our roadside chat. FedEx pulled up, and the driver lingered with us a bit, too.
All very relaxed. Genuine. Absolutely ordinary. That’s the way of things up here.
I lugged my buckets of fresh kindling up-top and set them by the outdoor rack. Checking the IBC tote, it still had 25 gallons left to go but was draining nicely.
The dogs’ food canisters were empty, so I walked them down to the shed and filled them. And then I kicked back awhile.
When the IBC tote was empty, I buttoned it up and moved on to our two 55-gallon water barrels. Those had to be pumped out, the whine of the small battery-powered pump bringing back memories of days when the only water we had on The Mountain was water we hauled in those barrels and transferred to the RV’s fresh-water tank.
Finally, I was concerned that the heated conductor I’d applied to our hydrant wasn’t working the way it should. Routine morning checks never found it warm.
I reasoned that either the sensor was “fooled” by being too close to another conductor, or the unit itself was bad. One way or the other, it had to come off.
I brought it into the cabin, plugged it in and sandwiched the thermostatic sensor between a pair of ice packs from the freezer. After 20 minutes, the conductor was very warm.
When I reinstalled it on the hydrant, this time I left the sensor right on the ground. Problem solved.
Throughout the afternoon, I’d noticed activity across the road. We knew that at some point the Cajun who owns the land would build there, and it appeared today like he was beginning to clear trees to make that happen.
I walked over when I was done with my work, and we had a great visit. He told me of his plans — a portable building, similar to our own cabin — and asked me where I’d like him to put it on his site.
Seriously.
He said that he’d understand if we didn’t want a house directly across from our driveway. He had another spot in mind, showed it to me, and gave me a choice.
Obviously, I have no standing to tell him where to put his house, on his land. But his request was earnest. I offered him my opinion and, of course, my thanks.
It was just the damnedest thing. Things are different here.
Here again is that “sanctuary” map from yesterday’s post. After giving it some thought, I wanted to point out a few more things, this time having nothing to do with proximity to our Home in Ozarkansas.
Look at Virginia. Shameful. Inexcusable. I mean, there are reasons for all that yellow — but they’re not good reasons.
And Utah — WTAF is up with that? And North Dakota. Really?
I also understand that there are progressive pustules within deep-red states. They don’t show up on this map because their status isn’t official, perhaps sidestepping primacy of state law, but c’mon now — do you really believe that Austin isn’t an active “sanctuary”? St. Louis? KC?
Still, just like election results, I look at The Big Picture. Those great expanses with few (if any) yellow stains are what I call healthy tissue. That’s where America has its best chance to be restored.
Once again, Deb’s arrival on The Mountain this evening coincided with a memorable sunset.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB