The gas oven/range in the cabin kitchen, a new GE model that I set up to run on propane, also plugs into a wall outlet. I’d read that during a power outage, the range (but not the oven) could be operated without 120VAC, which is something not all modern gas appliances can do. I’d never tested the claim, though.
I decided to give it a try early Friday morning — light a match, hold it next to a burner, crack the control knob, and sure enough, it works. Nice to know that I have that option if the grid goes down.
As long as I was in the mood, I checked out the “supplemental heat” feature of the through-the-wall air conditioner in the living room. Obviously, I hadn’t used it over the summer. And I didn’t want to test it while I still needed AC and (in case there was a problem) risk the unit’s cooling function.
I turned it on yesterday when the cabin’s interior temp was in the mid-50s. Almost immediately, it began churning out warm air — no issues, no troubling smells, just heat. I decided to let it run and see how much effect it had.
I was shocked at the result. In 15 minutes, it raised the temperature in the living room by 20°F. And in the bedroom, 30 feet away at the other end of the cabin, the temp went up by 10°F. Just fantastic.
I won’t be using that function often or for very long, however. According to Frigidaire’s spec sheet, the heating element draws 15A at 230VAC — that’s a ravenous 3,450W. Figuring that Entergy charges approximately 12 cents per kilowatt hour, switching on “supplemental heat” would cost me about 42 cents an hour.
That’s almost ten bucks a day, or $300 a month.
I know I have this feature available if I need it. But my primary source of heat remains wood.
Speaking of which, yesterday afternoon seemed like the right time to light the woodstove for the first time this season. It had been gloomy all day (no passive solar heating), spitting rain, and the high fell short of 60°F.
Cedar kindling caught quickly, flue and chimney drafted perfectly, and I loaded the firebox with wrist-sized oak splits. Before I knew it, the flue temp blew past 500°F and was approaching 600°F.
That’s too hot. Choking-down the fresh-air damper brought it back to where I like it to be.
As for heating the cabin… well, I’ll just say it was wonderful. The space warmed completely, cozily, end-to-end.
I live for this time of year.
Smudge and I went to town yesterday morning, a run to Yellville. I had five errands planned — Harps, post office, Miller Hardware, smoke shop and, because Friday’s special was brisket chili and smoked cornbread, Carolyn’s Razorback Ribs.
We got everything done quickly and, if I do say so myself, pretty efficiently. At four of the stops, I left the Heeler behind in the truck. She did great, of course.
We arrived at Carolyn’s 25 minutes before she opened. Smudge and I relaxed there in the parking lot, lovin’ our life, not a care in the world.
I’d pulled the truck into a spot at the west end of the building, near the big smoker. If there’s anything that smells better, I can’t imagine what it’d be.
Inside, I was greeted warmly by Carolyn, Felisha and Stacy. Their kindness is as special as their BBQ.
I want to rewind for a moment here and talk about my visit to Harps. There’s this older woman who works the deli, friendly (in the typical Ozarkansan way) since the first time we met. That’s when I was half of a couple, of course, and she took great interest in two transplants carving out a home on The Mountain.
Strangely, because of schedules or timing or whatever, I hadn’t seen her there since January. In other words, she didn’t know. When I saw her working yesterday, I approached the counter.
“How y’all doin’, darlin’?” she said with a smile.
I told her what happened on February 3rd and in the months since. Understandably, she was stunned. I saw tears in her eyes. I felt bad for her.
Then came something totally unexpected. She took off her apron, stepped out from behind the counter, extended her arms and wrapped them around me.
I can’t call it a hug — truly, it was an embrace. She held on tight for a long time.
Eventually, she took a step back and looked me square in the eye.
“Hon’, I’m so, so sorry,” she said, sadness written on her face. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. I’ll surely be prayin’ for you.”
When I got back out to my truck, I just sat there awhile, grateful. The goodness of people here is beyond compare, and this woman served me a heapin’ helpin’ of it.
This is where I belong.
I took Smudge into the cabin when I got home and penned her in the bedroom while I brought in groceries and our Carolyn’s lunch. (Yes, I got her a small burger patty.)
I fixed the Heeler a little kibble with a few burger crumbles, then sat down to my bowl of brisket chili — absolutely delicious, as was the smoked cornbread.
Afterward, I unloaded what I’d bought at Miller Hardware — two pallets, which I’ll use for stacking the firewood I’ve split recently.
A bargain at six bucks.
Autumn’s colors apparently are in no rush to come to The Mountain this year. I know that leaves are comin’ down, ’cause I see ’em on the ground, but there’s been no show.
Every so often, I catch glimpses of golds and oranges, like this scene outside my front door:
On the road in front of the cabin, a subtle glow:
Maybe this cool, damp weekend will kick-start some proper fall foliage. Fingers crossed.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable