Monday morning was a cold one in our humble cabin. Neither Smudge nor I was what you’d call “toasty” unless we were under a blanket or two. I’m talkin’ mid-50s, and colder toward the uninsulated walls and floor.
It wasn’t a hardship. Hell, it wasn’t even an inconvenience. It was — and it is — the very essence of our American Life on The Mountain.
(That life is extraordinary, by the way.)
By the time the morning low bounced, it was 25°F, with a “feels like” of 17°F. Wind, the arch enemy of cabin comfort, blew 12mph from the NNW.
And that’s when I decided I wanted to spend time outside.
As I dressed for our unseasonably bitter conditions, I recalled a certain advertiser I’ve seen on social media, and how it pitches its products by calling bullshit on the time-tested practice of layering. Apparently, all a man needs is one of the company’s do-everything hoodies.
That’s pretty stupid. Unless I’m sitting in the stadium at a late-season football game or standing at the curb watching a parade on Thanksgiving Day, layering rules.
My wish to venture out had a purpose — use the Ranger to haul a load up from the wood yard and top-off the rack in the cabin. I chose not to pull from my freshly stocked outdoor rack because, quite frankly, I won’t touch that ’til I absolutely have to.
Besides, it’s the same amount of work either way.
So that’s what I did.
Naturally, the exercise felt good. Spending time outside also has the benefit of acclimating me to temps that’ll be with us for a while.
After I’d carried the wood indoors and racked it, I took the long way back to the shed. I hadn’t run the road south recently, so I detoured in the direction of Hall Mountain.
A short trip, but worth it.
There comes a sense of satisfaction every time I stack or rack firewood — and I mean every time. It’s rustic and it’s simple. It’s honest. The connection between effort and reward is direct and imminent, and that kind of work is rare.
It’s no wonder I love it.
We were still golden early yesterday morning. Strong winds had stripped away a lot of the leaves, but colors were still striking. The hard freeze overnight — and again Monday night — would have its own eventual effect.
It happened sooner than I expected. I took an afternoon walk upslope from the cabin and looked out over the valley — the oaks, for the most part, had traded their yellows for bronze.
The higher perspective also reminded me that this is the season when the sweeping landscape to our west and south reveals itself. It becomes more evident that my Heeler and I actually live in the mountains.
This is an exciting time.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable