Of the many things here on The Mountain that defy description and must be experienced, another happened late last evening. Deb and I were warming ourselves by the woodstove, the glow from the flickering fire the only light, the crackle of seasoned cherry the only sound.
That’s when we heard it.
The serenade began with a few yips and barks, swelling quickly into a crescendo of howls — coyotes. Close. Lots of ’em.
Certain moments crystallize, validate, prove that we’re right where we belong. This was one of them.
The cabin was cold this morning, but the stove was still warm. Coals remaining from last night’s burn ignited a wad of paper and a few sticks of kindling. Once the draft was established again, I added fuel.
Later, Deb dropped a couple of cinnamon sticks into the kettle on the stovetop. The spice in the air, blending with the aroma of woodsmoke, was absolutely delicious.
My day’s chores included plugging in two heaters I got to warm the camper’s wet bay. I tested both indoors yesterday. Today I wanted to run them in place to make sure I put them where they’re both effective and safe.
Beginning tonight, we’ll see five straight lows in the low to mid-20s. We’ll be ready.
Ours was a simple Thanksgiving Day, quiet, just the two of us. Deb bought a package-deal meal at Harps — a small turkey, five sides, pie — and we enjoyed it at the table in the cabin.
Pretty special.
See, we’ve talked about doing exactly this for three years now, even before the first dirt moved on The Mountain. Today wasn’t merely a milestone — it was the culmination of (part of) our crazy dream.
A vision of Thanksgiving dinner in a cabin in the woods came true. If that isn’t cause to be grateful, I can’t imagine what is.
After dinner, I did my first-ever evening burn in the barrel. We had food-soiled combustibles that were best disposed of immediately (rather than put into a trash can).
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB