Snow Day

Cold. Get a good fire going and leave the small oil-filled radiator in the back entry, then outside to get my blood flowing. Right about freezing at dawn then a steady decline, supposed to be ten degrees tomorrow morning so I'll need to get up in the night. Another phone call about the disappeared petty thief. The owner of the house which the thief family trashed called from Montreal. Wanted me to go down and take a look, but I told him I couldn't get out right now and that I wasn't going to walk. I had another long, convoluted, legal thriller by Lescroart to read, and yet another book on eating utensils. The bean soup is excellent, and I'll have to make another pone of cornbread later. Spitting snow when I go back outside, for the last time today, and select a couple of night-time logs. I have everything laid out, to build another fire, in case I sleep through. Muffled and quiet. It was the silence that woke me this morning. The power was out and it had snowed. I was in my down bag, so I was comfortable, but I knew I needed to build a fire. I laid there for an hour because it was so quiet. In survival mode sleep is episodic. I was extremely careful in my forays outside. Hostile territory. Even for a trip to the woodshed, I carry a bottle of water, a nip of single-malt, a power-bar, trail-mix, and some jerky. You never know. Safely back inside, I stoke up a big fire, with a gnarly hunk I have to load from the top. Should hold me for most of the night. Force of habit, I triple check everything before I settle in, get a drink, roll a smoke, wrap my feet in a stadium blanket. Survival is exhausting. Once I have my kit around me, I'm reasonably secure. And I'm good with this, settling into my lair. Kept a good fire going all night.10 degrees, colder and more snow tomorrow. Had to go out and get an armload of wood just at dawn and it was quite beautiful. Hoarfrost, snow; and the walking was incredibly loud. When I got back inside I couldn't stand listening to the news, so I put on some Miles Davis while I made hash and eggs, a toasted piece of cornbread with red-onion jam. Heated some water and washed a sink full of dishes, put away a few books as the piles had become dangerous, paid two of my four bills (can't actually mail them until I get off the ridge again), balanced my checkbook, and considered my next meal. Beans on toast with left-over hash probably. I've eaten so well, the last few days. Next time I get to town I'll collect the ingredients for a simple fish stew, and for that chorizo/kale soup. I need to get to the laundromat one more time, make sure I have paper towels and toilet paper. The wind picks up. Winter, bare trees, ridge-top, the wind can blow. I wish I'd built underground. I still might. I probably won't, but I could. If I could live underground, I could cut my expenses in half. I turn a profit now, just not going to town. If I lived under ground I could heat my house with a candle.