Yesterday seemed the right time to take a day off from the blog. I got some routine stuff done, along with running to Flippin for provisions. I took time to stop (briefly) at the Crooked Creek access, which for some reason was open.
In the three days following Nature’s gift of a Winter Wonderland, snow turned to slush, mud and (thanks to lows in the 20s) treacherous ice, more mess than picturesque. The driveway and the area around the cabin aren’t bad, at least.
Meteorologists are predicting relatively balmy (for the season) conditions through Saturday — highs ranging from 42°F to 57°F, lows in the 20s and 30s. Monday we’ll awake to single digits, however, with low teens for several mornings after that.
We won’t get above freezing, even during the day.
And there are rumblings in the extended forecast about another round of heavy snow, ten or so days out. We’ll see.
This is how my Tuesday on The Mountain began.
Winter’s bite in the air. Wolf Moon in a clear sky. Hands wrapped ’round a mug of hot coffee. A warm and unconditionally trusting dog asleep on my lap.
Miss Smudge is a Heeler — a herder, a dervish, a world-class spitfire. But she loves. And she knows.
There’s a lot happening in a quiet moment like that. It tells me that this dog belongs here with us on The Mountain. It’s a good omen, too, a sign that all’s well.
More than anything else, and for anyone who loves a dog, it’s the highest compliment our companion can pay us.
The saw shop called mid-morning — our tuned-up Husqvarna was ready. So I was off to the far side of Yellville, by way of Casey’s in Flippin to gas-up my truck ($2.619).
By the looks of the work order, the boys at Miller’s narrowed it down to a fuel-ignition issue. Spark plug. Carb kit. Fuel filter. I had ’em dress the chain, too, as long as it was there, and I bought a spare.
The bill (minus the chain) amounted to a quarter of what I originally paid for the saw. I had to remind myself that I’d bought it for 40% less than the prevailing street price, 50% off MSRP. With that perspective, I wasn’t the least bit bothered.
We’ll see how it runs next time out.
When I made the turn for Home, it was after noon. I pulled into the city park and joined Deb during her lunch break.
Another comment-worthy post popped up in the woodburning group the other day:
“Why burn wood? Isn’t there a cheaper, easier way to heat?”
Well, at least he didn’t say “cleaner.” My reply:
“At the age of 68, I know that explaining my choices like they’re math problems is a mistake.
“I love everything about wood heat — the harvesting, the bucking, the splitting, the stacking, the waiting… and the burning. Even the sweeping.
“And y’know what? I’ve never run the numbers. I’ve never done a spreadsheet.
“For me, wood heat is a Liberty thing, not a convenience thing or a cost-benefit thing. There’s more freedom than BTUs in a cord of red oak.“
I could’ve been a scold, of course, pointing out that the gentleman suffers from “the disease of comfort.” I had a chance to ridicule his attempt to reduce woodburning to an equation.
But I didn’t. I made my measured point in the last sentence:
“There’s more freedom than BTUs in a cord of red oak.”
If we hope to reclaim what’s good and what’s right, we have to restore a few fundamental principles. Quality, within means. Work, within physical limits. Liberty, without compromise.
Heating with wood checks all the boxes for me. It’s intentional and it’s essential. Few things are more rewarding.
But it’s not a math problem.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB