The old barn captured in today’s header image sits on the north side of the county road between The Mountain and Yellville, in the bottoms along Crooked Creek. It just oozes character. I always look forward to the sight, but I’ve stopped only a couple of times to snap a picture.
Yesterday morning, with no traffic behind me, I slowed down to grab a few shots.
Looking at the images later on my phone, I decided that one in particular begged to be rendered in black-and-white. I cropped it and fiddled in Photoshop.
That made it all about texture, light and shadow. Cool.
I fiddled a little more.
Now that’s a keeper. I love it.
Smudge barks an alarm whenever a vehicle comes or goes on our road. And sometimes she sounds the alert when there’s military air traffic over The Mountain.
Wednesday morning, a Tulsa-bound Chinook out of Kentucky — transponding, which is rare — rattled the cabin windows despite flying at almost 2,500 feet. A pair of 60-foot rotors and 10,000 horsepower will do that.
Speaking of Smudge, on our way back from Yellville I parked next to the wood yard and picked up firewood for the indoor rack. She stayed in the cab and intently watched my every move.
The Heeler was fascinated with what I was up to. More than mere attachment, it seemed she was trying to figure it all out. I’ve never known a dog like this.
I hadn’t accumulated enough combustibles for a decent trash fire yesterday, but with a burn ban possibly looming, I chose to light what little I had. Before heading for the barrel, though, I turned south and ran the Ranger toward the corner of the property, looking for recent windfall near the edge of the woods.
I spied a fair-sized broken oak branch on the ground, not far in. By the looks of it, it hadn’t been there long. I nosed the buggy off the road and against the bank, grabbed my 20V chainsaw from the bed and mounted the slope.
It turned out to be exactly what I hoped to find — solid and worth the trouble. I cut it into five manageable lengths and tossed those down to the roadside. I bucked it there.
A little bit, every day.
I added brush to the trash in the burn barrel, hoping that’d encourage more complete combustion. As a result, it took longer than usual to burn down. While I was waiting, I thought I’d try an experiment.
A few years ago, I picked up a splitting wedge at Tractor Supply. Not just any splitting wedge, either — variously called a “star” or “torpedo” wedge, this one was branded “Wood Grenade.” I took the bait.
But I never used that fancy wedge. I kept it with my kindling-splitting fixture, which I do use a lot. Yesterday, with a little time on my hands, I figured I’d see if the Wood Grenade was worth a damn.
Thing is, all I had to smack it with was the stubby three-pound drilling hammer I use to split kindling. That’d have to do.
Now here’s where you get a chance to question my judgment. I didn’t start small. No, I chose one of the biggest, fattest oak rounds from the pile, set the point of the Wood Grenade at the center of it and proceeded to hit the thing like I was mad at it.
Six angry blows later, this:
Well, I’ll be damned.
It wasn’t even that difficult — the Wood Grenade cleaved the round completely, right down the middle, like that’s what it does for a living. I ended up using this surprising wedge to produce five splits from the round.
Beyond that, it was the wrong tool for the job, too awkward for smaller stuff. I set the splits aside. I’ll whack ’em with the ax another day.
The experiment was a success.
Prompted by public comments and private conversations over the last week, I feel like I need to say something out loud here.
I’ve talked a bunch about the blessed isolation I enjoy in this American life on The Mountain. That said, I’m not in hiding. I’m not running away from anything. There’s nothing in the whole wide world that I feel I must escape.
Most of us eventually learn that being propelled by avoidance or evasion is a prescription for making shitty choices. Better that we’re motivated not by what we flee but by what we choose.
I choose to be here. I choose to be present in this moment.
My sole focus is on this life, not a life I no longer live.
I just wanted to make that clear. Life is good.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
One thought on “Peeks”
Comments are closed.