October 4, 2011 § 3 Comments
The weekend past was the first weekend of true fall. The rain was relentless and cold, and when I returned home on Sunday afternoon having spent a half-dozen hours helping a friend frame a small roof, it felt as if the water had soaked not merely through my clothing, but through my skin. There was a fire in the cookstove; Penny and the boys were making applesauce. I ate a bowl of warm apple mush and felt better.
I feel prepared for what will come. The wood pile is tall, straight, and dry. The root cellar is nearly full, and the freezers almost overflowing with what amounts to frozen sunshine: Berries and butter and grass-fed beef. It’s an absurd, almost embarrassing store of wealth, though I can’t help being struck by the fact that the majority of my fellow Americans probably wouldn’t see it the same. Whatever. I’ll take my version of affluence – food, livestock, land, and family-rich but cash-poor – over the prevailing view any day.
We’re not far from snow, although the forecast speaks of sun and warmth in the near future. But I’ve lived in these hills for nearly 40 years. I know how quickly things can change.