Mud Season

55 degrees in the afternoon. Extremely pleasant, though the dripping off the roof reaches toward a percussive climax. I go outside for a while, but the footing is still awful. I make a pone of cornmeal/acorn bread, very plain, bland, but quite good toasted with molasses. Next time I walk out, tomorrow hopefully, I need to bring in the makings for a stew or soup. Split pea or ham and bean. I'd like to get a good loaf of multi-grain bread and a dozen eggs, but these are both difficult to pack in. Still, I might attempt it as I do enjoy my beans and sardines on toast, and I need the eggs, not only for making decent cornbread, but because omelets are a cornerstone of my winter diet. I have a piece of bubble wrap in my pack, and a couple of large rubber-bands, I wrap the eggs and carry them on top; sometimes I carry a loaf of bread, in a plastic bag, suspended around my neck, so that it hangs against my chest. I have a fairly long list, that needs to be winnowed down, but still, I'll be carrying in a good sized pack. Sherpa mode. Basho hunched with his gunny sack, rice for the week ahead. I was thinking about cooking fires fueled with dried yak dung and remembered I had some dried horse shit under the house. Did, in fact, get a good fire going with junk mail and a few twigs, and had a good hot fire of dried dung to heat water and reheat dinner. I can mark that off my list. I spread the load, when I have a lot to carry, a large sweet potato in one pocket of my Carhartt coat, a sweet onion in the other, a bar of chocolate in the outer tool pocket of the bib-overalls. It's wonderful to discover a protein bar, the next time you suit up, to go outdoors. I pre-load pockets with jerky and trail-mix, or a bag of almonds roasted with wasabi. Lost in a state of wonder. The edge of the back porch was finally dry and I got an early drink, rolled a smoke, and basked in the heat like an old dog. February and the first week of March were tough going, but I only felt threatened a couple of times, and even then I'd just wrap up in a blanket and go to sleep. Being able to read or sleep through a storm is a talent. Hoist a storm staysail and ride down wind. Nothing you can do about direction. It helps if you're in the middle of nowhere and don't have to be concerned about being driven onto rocky shoals. It usually clears up in the morning and you can get back on course. It often helps to read a Scandinavian thriller. Or George V. Higgins. Sometimes I just listen to the wind.