Deb returned to work today. Not that she and her sore back felt up to it, really, but like many things in this Life, we do what we have to do.
We don’t quit. We don’t give up.
This is our fourth straight year wintering in an RV, and it’s our last. Living like this has its challenges. It sure as hell ain’t for everyone. Very few people would even consider doing it, and only a handful could.
That has little to do with ability and everything to do with attitude.
Even under perfect conditions, RVing isn’t a plug-and-play proposition. And when temps drop below freezing, it’s an actual battle to keep everything working (to say nothing of staying warm). Stuff will break, freeze and go wrong — guaranteed.
When you winter in an RV parked in a cold climate, you’ll spend time outdoors doing maintenance, making repairs, and performing other tasks with painfully numb hands. You’ll be uncomfortable. You’ll be frustrated. You’ll wonder why you’re going to all that trouble.
You’ll either win the battle or you’ll lose. And truly, the only way to lose is to give up.
Deb and I are winning.
We’re winning because we don’t quit. We’re unstoppable because we attack challenges and refuse to give up. We want to understand how things work, learn to do our own maintenance and repairs, and thrive in less-than-ideal conditions.
Attitude.
Keeping house in this camper isn’t the same as living in the cabin will be. But if there’s any better preparation for a rustic Life in the Country — knowledge, skills, attitude — I can’t imagine what it is.
A social-media group centered around happenings in northwest Arkansas was buzzing this afternoon with reports of uniformed ICE agents’ activity in Rogers and Springdale. I have no way of verifying those accounts’ authenticity, but that part of Ozarkansas would be a target-rich environment for deportation raids, it seems to me.
The posts, which expressed empathy for illegals (bordering on solidarity) and urged them to be vigilant, were deleted by group admins shortly after they appeared.
I went back up to Dancing Tree late this morning. This time I wasn’t there to collect a load of firewood — my goal was to do a bit of surgical pruning on the tree I intend to winch free. And it’d be exploratory surgery, nothing more.
For all of the eyeballing I’ve done, I still needed a better idea of exactly what I’m dealing with.
It was a painstaking exercise. I avoided putting the pole saw to anything that carried weight or even appeared to be under tension. I also was careful not to remove branches that could upset the balance of what was hanging ten feet over my head.
Deliberate pruning revealed that I’d been wrong about this tree. What I thought was one large limb or a half-crown is two separate pieces. They’re not attached to the trunk, either — they’re wedged and woven into smaller adjacent trees, under what appears to be significant spring tension.
Think of it like an enormous primitive snare, the kind you’d learn to make with a bent sapling in a typical wilderness-survival class. When an unsuspecting critter trips the trigger, it’s over.
That’s why I’m approaching this tree so carefully. It’s a big ol’ widowmaker.
There will be no more cutting ’til it’s on the ground. I decided on where I’ll set up the Ranger to do my winching, which will double as the spot where I’ll skid wood out on the sled.
I did clear away a considerable amount of brush today. Pruning produced a couple of branches worth bucking and uncovered several small trees that were casualties when the top of that oak came crashing down.
It was all standing dead and most of it was straight “pole wood,” easy to process. So I rolled back to the wood yard with a little firewood after all.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable