Saturday night was a tough one. That wasn’t because it was unreasonably cold in the cabin at wakeup, but because it took everything I had to keep it relatively comfortable in the bedroom. Maintaining the woodstove’s flue temp around 300°F, supplemented with all of the electric heat at my command, got us to 62°F when we opened our eyes.
Outside, it was brutal — a biting 13°F, dancing around zero with the wind chill. But it was our first serious test of the season, and we passed it.
I was anxious to get moving and work a little, despite the conditions. Going out with Smudge around 9am, however, adjusted my attitude. I started rooting for the sun to hurry up and warm this side of The Mountain. Maybe I’d try again later.
Every now and then, I do question my choices. I wonder that I’ve taken on the most physically and mentally challenging life I’ve ever known, at a time when my body and mind are past their prime and losing ground every day.
I tell myself that whatever I surrender in strength and acuity, I replace with wisdom. That, it seems to me, is one way people my age (and much older, certainly) stay in the game of life.
But there’s more to it. Two things, actually, the first of which is tenacity.
Do not go gentle into that good night,
Dylan Thomas (1951)
Old age should burn and rave at close of day;
Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
The second is motion.
“It comes down to a simple choice, really. Get busy livin’ or get busy dyin’.”
Andy Dufresne, The Shawshank Redemption
I know I won’t be able to live this life forever. I’ll do it for as long as I can.
I’ve never felt so alive.
Eleven in the morning. The cabin, driveway and lower level were in full sun. The temperature had reached 20°F.
It was now or not at all. I garbed-up, loaded a few tools into the truck and rolled down to the big brushpile.
The photo above captures my view of the cabin from where I was working. Though you can’t see it in that image, Miss Smudge is watching me from the window in the north door, barking and howling.
I set to work picking through the pile for stove-worthy hardwood. Since I’d already mined the easiest stuff, it was slow going, but I found enough to justify the effort — about a day’s fuel, I reckon.
It’s rewarding to step away from honest labor and see what I produced in an hour. The stacks on next winter’s third pallet continue to grow.
As long as I was at the wood yard, of course, I brought up enough to restore our indoor supply. This load was heavy on big chunks and light on “in-between” pieces, so I split several splits before leaving the yard.
For about two-and-a-half hours Sunday afternoon, I was able to turn off the electric heaters and leave the woodstove alone. Passive solar did its thing, saving me a little money and a little firewood. But we had another bitter night in front of us, so by 3:30pm I got the fire going again.
It’s great to be here.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable