I had reason to be in Mountain Home today. I heard through the cyber-grapevine that Harbor Freight had its cheapest welding gloves on clearance — just ten bucks for three pair.
While I don’t do any welding, I do tend a hot woodstove. I thought about buying two three-packs but settled for one.
(And a free bucket.)
I’m sure somebody out there’s thinking that real men don’t need gloves to wrangle a fire. Whatever — all I know is that I’ve had skin grafts before, and it wasn’t fun. Probably expensive these days, too. And living in the Country, somewhat removed from medical care, I tend to err on the side of not fucking myself up intentionally.
So I wear gloves. These cheapies will do the job.
Early this bright and windy morning, long before temperatures escaped the 20s, I parked the Ranger next to The Monster Brushpile. I picked up a chainsaw and bucked seven lengths of red cedar from the ends of four logs fairly close to the road.
Scooting across the driveway to the wood yard, I used the splitting fixture to turn one of the smaller lengths into kindling. Then I broke out my Fiskars axe and split two of the medium-sized chunks.
Nice and dry. Those logs have been suspended off the ground for over two years and yielded easily to a single whack.
I hauled the whole load up to the fire pit off the driveway, where I built a modified log-cabin lay — a big one, standing nearly three feet tall, the largest bucked length of cedar placed carefully on top.
I made a suitable tinder bundle of fine twigs gathered from cedars within a few steps of the fire ring and stuffed it under the base of the lay. It’s all ready to light.
But I didn’t light it.
To find out what this is about, you’ll have to wait for my next post. (Probably tomorrow.)
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB