I wasn’t happy with yesterday’s blog post. Reading back through it, I found the way I expressed myself to be choppy and abrupt — factual, certainly, and descriptive (or at least documentary), but the words came across in a sort of staccato.
Maybe I was pressing, I dunno. Maybe I was tired. We’ll see how today’s post goes.
I had a couple of full trays dehydrating Friday night into Saturday. I’d accumulated enough onion heels to make a batch worthwhile, and four fresh jalapeños were in use-’em-or-lose-’em condition.
Both turned out well. I love this sort of thing.
I was about to put the food dehydrator away when I remembered that I had a celery heart that was getting rubbery. There are ways to revive celery, I know that, but just for shits’n’giggles I thought I’d try drying it.
After ten hours, the slices and leaves shriveled up so small that they fell through the trays and into the bottom of the dehydrator. A taste test confirmed that flavor was intact and intense.
Having spent four straight days bringing in firewood for next winter, I took a break. I still wanted to be productive Saturday — I just didn’t want to run a saw, swing an ax or stack a pallet.
As snow and ice receded this week, it revealed that the damage to those wooden chairs in the back yard was worse than I first thought. They could be repaired, but I’m not sure it’d be worth the time and expense, given how little I use them.
The back yard has become a utility space for me, not a retreat. If I want to get away and stare into the woods, there are 20 acres where I can do that.
I hatched an idea.
Yesterday morning, I removed the broken bits from the less-damaged chair and put it into the bed of the Ranger, along with one of the matching footrests. I also tossed in two large cedar rounds. (One had to go inside the cab.)
Finally, I removed one end of a cable spool (salvaged when the well was drilled three years ago) and added that plywood disk to the load.
I summoned my inner Jed Clampett, strapped it all down and struck out for the east slope.
The spot I’ve christened “Daybreak Point” has been cleared and its fire ring is finished, but it seemed to me to be missing a few things. Chief among those was a place for me to sit and enjoy the view.
I pulled the wounded wooden chair from the buggy, chose a suitable spot and set it up with its footrest.
It’s like it was supposed to be there all along. Perfect.
Then it was on to a few other items I’d brought along. On the opposite side of the fire ring, I placed one of the cedar rounds, up on its end, and nailed the plywood disk to the top.
I carried the other cedar round over and put it next to the first. Now I have a table and stool for food prep, eating, whatever.
The sittin’ log will do double duty as a splittin’ log, of course.
The last thing I wanted to address was firewood storage, so that I don’t have to forage for fuel every time I light the fire ring. Using bow saw and hatchet, I took down and stripped two small red cedars to serve as runners between a couple of standing trees close by.
The poles will hold stacked wood off the ground. The cedar won’t rot. A five-by-seven (camo) tarp will keep rain off.
Daybreak Point is now “furnished.”
Strips of yellow flagging tape (pictured) flutter from trees along the trail and around the area I’ve cleared. They’re reminders of a vision and a plan, made real through hard work.
And whenever I see them, I acknowledge that I’m the one who found this place and brought it into being. No one’s been there but me.
There’s more still to do. I’ll keep it simple.
I can’t tell you what I’ll be doing today, but I know for sure that I won’t be joining 130 million others in watching the Super Bowl — not the game, not the halftime show, not the commercials. I have precisely zero interest in anything associated with the NFL.
I haven’t watched so much as a single snap in years. The league made it abundantly clear that I’m not its target market.
I don’t need another reason. But if I did, here it is:
Having a “Chief Diversity Officer” is so 2020, isn’t it? Nothing signals “woke” like “Chief Kindness Officer.”
It used to be about football. It’s not anymore. No, thank you.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable