Straight out from my front door are two mature oaks, both rooted on the lower level. They stand apart from each other and tall against the sky, framing whatever unfolds above the western horizon.
October’s full moon — the Hunter’s Moon, to faithful followers of tradition — nestled into that frame Monday morning like a front sight settling into a notch. A few wispy clouds added visual interest.
I braced my phone on the bedrail of the truck and clicked off a few shots. Although I didn’t watch the whole time it was setting, I did check on it whenever Miss Smudge and I ventured outside.
By 6:30am, this full moon was an orange ball sinking behind far ridges. Minutes later it was gone, leaving the stars alone to shine.
A red strobe blinking directly overhead caught my eye — Delta 2216 out of Wichita, streaking southeastward at 506 knots (582mph). Still cruising at 33,000 feet, the flight hadn’t yet begun its descent into Atlanta.
I could hear the engines’ roar, six miles up.
And that’s how my Monday began.
Meanwhile, in Glacier National Park….
I was back in the wood yard again yesterday morning, splitting more kindling. That doesn’t really shock you, now, does it?
Woodwork — firewood work, that is — gets to be addictive. It’s easy to end up on a roll. That’s where I found myself on Monday.
I got a later start than I had on Sunday. After taking care of the usual routine and dropping a housekeeping e-mail to plaintiff’s counsel, I fetched two empty five-gallon buckets and carried them down to my splitting station.
As before, I pulled seasoned cedar from the stacks and processed it using my thumb-saving fixture. For the sake of entertainment, I challenged myself (and my tools) with some large, knotty and particularly gnarly chunks. No problem.
I chucked what I split into the buckets and added the finer bits (which make great tinder) to the barrel I’d filled a day earlier. That gives me four weatherproof containers, totaling 31 gallons’ capacity, of ready woodstove kindling for the winter.
And it probably won’t be enough. It all depends on how much I use and how often I need it.
I predict that I’ll end up splitting more by early next spring.
As much as I love the area around the summit of The Mountain, it takes time and effort to get up there. When I want relative isolation closer to the cabin, I know just where to go.
I remember the day I found the spot for my second fire ring, the place I now call White Rock. It wasn’t exactly a clearing, but the understory was sparser there. A canopy of hickories arched high overhead. Though there are no truly level spots on that side of The Mountain, at least this one was fairly flat.
I cleared a footpath from the driveway, then got to work removing brush and dropping inconvenient trees. Using a shovel, an iron rake and a pick-mattock, I leveled a place for my fire ring.
There was no way to get the Ranger anywhere close (and there still isn’t), so whatever I brought to the site came through the woods in hands or wheelbarrow. Dozens of large (white) rocks to encircle the fire ring. Four five-gallon buckets of gravel for the base. A pair of sit’n’split stumps.
I bucked the trees I’d cut down and stacked the wood nearby.
The result has become one of my favorite places on The Mountain. And, like virtually everything, ’round here, I did it.
Smudge and I visit often. Soon we’ll be sittin‘ by a fire.
By the way, this (pictured, below) is where I expected to build a second fire pit. It’s out behind the shed, rocky surroundings with almost no mature canopy. A beautiful spot, though closer to the road.
Once I found White Rock, it fell out of the running.
If I’m able to stay in my home on The Mountain — and that’s a big if — I do plan to build two other fire rings. There would be one near the summit and another on the east slope.
Time will tell that tale.
The sudden appearance of threatening skies Monday afternoon took me by surprise. I’d seen only a 15% chance of rain in the forecast, but these clouds looked promising (in an ominous sort of way).
Radar showed storms boiling up from the lower Mississippi Valley. More were trying to get organized west and southwest of us. It seemed like we actually might get wet.
I went down to the wood yard and put the lid on the kindling barrel, just in case. The buckets already were covered.
In the end, we got nothin’. You’ll have that.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable