A calm day after a gusty night

The sun had been up for a half-hour Friday morning when I stepped out my front door and surveyed the valley. The Mountain cast its long shadow, beyond which the landscape was bathed in gold.

I could see that the town of Yellville, four miles distant, already was warmed by the sun. Miss Smudge and I would travel there later.

Our grid power flickered and dimmed repeatedly Thursday night — if I had to guess, I’d say 20 or 30 times. The unimpeded west wind was gusting to a reported 55mph, and honestly, I thought the roof was comin’ off the cabin.

By midnight, 7,200 Entergy customers were without power statewide, including 1,200 here in Marion County. (Virtually all were restored by daybreak.) I’m glad to say we weren’t among them. If we had been, on a blustery night that dipped to 27°F, we wouldn’t’ve lost our primary source of heat — Heeler and human simply would’ve moved into the living room, next to the woodstove.

In the light of day, I assessed any damage the wind may have wrought. I found none. Oh, an empty kindling bucket wasn’t where I’d left it, but that was all.

Honestly, I’m amazed that the soft shed didn’t take flight. It was that kind of wind.

*I treat the area to the left of the woodstove as a sort of workstation. Everything required to build and tend a fire has to be within arm’s reach when I kneel next to* *the stove door. I tweaked the layout slightly yesterday morning, for efficiency’s sake.*

Friday morning didn’t feel right for picking up my trailbuilding where I left off the other day. I don’t have a good explanation for that. Chalk it up to a sense of my capacity yesterday — the task wasn’t urgent, so I passed.

I have the freedom to be smart about stuff like that. It’s pretty great.

Incidentally, not far from where I stopped on Wednesday, I stumbled onto another wind-downed oak. The crown is on the ground, suspended perfectly but tangled in brush and briars. I’ll probably attack it first with my pole saw, the way I did with the last downed tree on the east slope, and then buck it.

It looks like it’ll yield about what the north-slope widowmaker produced in January. More firewood for next winter.

This new Ranger trail, when it’s done, will allow easier access to one of my favorite places on The Mountain. It’s a great sittin’ spot, especially at sunrise. Maybe I’ll build a fire ring there. I could string a hammock between a couple of trees, even staying overnight.

Practically speaking, though — and you knew there’d be a practical reason for it — I’ll have a base-of-operations for harvesting firewood from a different patch of The Mountain. That, whether or not it’s obvious, is a big deal.

The generous hearth in front of the woodstove saves the day a couple of times a week. Occasionally a coal or two tumbles out of the firebox when I adjust the lay. Resinous red cedar and bone-dry cherry pop and crack and send embers flying, too.

As I hinted earlier, we made a quick trip to town on Friday. Compared to the usual timing — between 8:30am and 10:30am — this one ran later than most, and for a number of reasons. We got back around 1pm.

Here are a few images from the homeward leg, captured in the bottoms along Crooked Creek.