Today’s report on Ozarkansas weather and cabin comfort is brought to you by the staff and management of The Mountain, where there’s a complete and total absence of complaining (i.e., “a discouraging word”).
Where the air is so pure, the zephyrs so free,
The breezes so balmy and light,
That I would not exchange my home on the range
For all of the cities so bright.
The happy Heeler and I awoke to 50°F indoors, pushed that low by 41°F outside. Switching on a small electric space heater in the kitchen raised the temp there to 56°F.
Donning an extra layer (a fleece jacket) made that quite tolerable. Hot coffee and oatmeal warmed me inside-out.
I draped Smudge’s tattered fleece blanket over the space heater for about a minute, then took it over to where she was curled up on the living room chair. On feeling the warmth as I covered her, she groaned her gratitude and sighed a contented sigh.
There’s this thing Smudge does when she feels loved — she closes her eyes and smacks her lips once or twice. (I don’t know how else to describe it.) For example, she does that when she’s sacked-out, relaxing, and I stroke the sides of her face.
And she did it when I tucked the warmed blanket around her yesterday morning.
My companion is grateful, and she shows it. She’s loyal, and she shows it. She never, ever complains. She knows she hit the jackpot.
So did I.
While that dog and this human both would’ve preferred to begin our Monday in a toasty cabin, we didn’t fret about it. I know the time is coming — probably toward the end of the month, or maybe sooner than that — when I’ll light the woodstove in the mornings, “just to take the chill off.” I might do a trial run this week, in fact.
But yesterday’s forecast promised sunshine and a high in the upper 70s. Tapping my supply of cordwood for a little short-term comfort would’ve been a waste. And every time I resist the temptation to build a morning fire is fuel saved for next spring.
That’s the way I look at it.
We executed a quick up-and-back to Flippin early yesterday. Temp was in the mid-40s by the time we shoved off into the brilliant morning.
I’d no sooner steered the truck onto the subdivision road than I saw a familiar sight:
That piled-up berm along the left side could mean only one thing — but I didn’t know if the road crew was ahead of me or behind me.
I got my answer after cresting the second rise:
It’s part of the rhythm of this place — once or twice a year, Marion County performs what’s known as a “courtesy grading” of the subdivision road. They’re not required to maintain it, despite what some residents contend, but they take a day in the fall and another in the spring to clear roadside ditches of debris put there by runoff, redistribute gravel and smooth the surface.
Doing the work is good community relations and, naturally, it’s good politics.
But it won’t take long for what little traffic there is to return the surface to its previous condition. I give it a week before the washboard and potholes are back.
“Oh, yeah — you can’t go wrong with the Economy-Size Barrel of Cheese Balls.”
Dave Whipple
Bushradical doesn’t post new videos very often these days. It seems Dave Whipple is devoting the bulk of his time to living his life instead of documenting it, and I respect that choice.
I can relate to it, too, in a way.
When a video does drop, however, I make time to watch it. That’s what I did Sunday night — “Off grid cabin projects” was the title, and it was classic Bushradical fare.
As usual, it’s extremely well shot. It’s less how-to and more hang-out. Dave’s laid-back, unpretentious presentation is to my liking. Not everyone would find it compelling, I’m sure, but I considered it a worthwhile way to spend 34 minutes.
I fact, I watched it again Monday morning.
Occupying a good chunk of my attention lately is fulfilling civil-procedure requirements to identify and disclose everything that I own and owe. I haven’t talked about that in any detail here, and I won’t.
Yes, I recognize that it’s necessary. Yes, I’ll comply. I reserve the right, however, to be thoroughly disgusted by it.
At a time when I am, at last, where I belong, doing what I was made to do, I’m an accessory to a process meant to take from me what I’ve earned, what I’ve worked for, including my home.
The antidote to that toxin is self-administered in two doses — presence and independence. That keeps me grounded. It brings me both peace and joy.
It’s great to be here.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable