Author: Martian Joe

I have done a few spot checks for folks, just to ensure their properties, and buildings, might still be in tact. The storm was quite wild, and there are literally hundreds of downed trees in the ranch. Many folks that got quite lucky.

I have been examining my property in detail, and lost more live than dead trees, such that the gusts had more to grab with big, large, healthy live limbs. It hurts a bit more out here, in the scarred lands from the Spring Fire, to see the lives ones now lying dead.

One spot check went spectacularly well.

The wind storm was unlike anything I’ve yet experienced on this little mountain top. Beyond the physical, it shook me in many ways.

Four more steel plates are en route for the west facing wall. It was studied most of the night and morning, and it ebbed and flowed with the gusts. Were not for the two existing plates, I am unsure the result.

I met the folks that bought the big place on Spangle. Met might not be the right word, but we worked together for a couple of hours and cut, moved and cleaned up about twenty five downed trees blocking Schierl. The broken finger didn’t enjoy the chainsaw, and somewhere along the way my fancy new aluminum splint vanished.

Sadly, we lost many live trees and I lost one majestic live one out of only eight left out front. The roads are not normal, but they are passable, from here to either gate. If anyone is en route I do recommend bringing your chainsaw, with extra gas are bar oil. It was quite an adventure.

I thank you all for the kind words, but ’tis a finger. I shall prevail. Moving firewood is a bit slower and more cumbersome, as is hunting to type, but more notably, the new tenant, and my new house, had a glaring issue. Long story, but eight hours with a hammer, nail puller and a caulking gun, and the body lets you know when the index finger on your dominant hand does not perform. Your pulse, in these cases, can be a good reminder that some things simply might not be wise. But the tenant is happy, the problem is solved, and the evening is mine.

Yesterday was a lovely day overall. Ranch friends and neighbors dropped by, bringing high spirits not only of their own, but freshly mixed in mason jars.

A hike was planned, but homemade hand delivered apple pie liqueur? We can hike another time. It was a day of talking, laughter, warming by the fire, and sharing all our spirits.

Typing is not easy at the moment; broke a finger last night. Five trees blocked the road to the Merlo junction due to recent winds. One of them fought back.

The new consulting job did not last. Three weeks of work, and from their end, all was well. Yesterday morning the act of logging on caused the stomach to lock, and then ache. What more instruction does a man need than his own body?

My grasp of clarity is fuzzing with all of this, so it is time to step back from a role as such. Herding cats? Directing squirrels was a better metaphor for this lot.

It is one degree outside but seventy one in the living room. All is well. I will ponder the shift and explore where I was versus where I am today. I am safe, dry, warm and all is okay. A stomach that is not aching is my reward.

Life can offer lessons anywhere if one is looking, and if one cares to acknowledge what is proffered. There was a dialog into the past last night, sharing with someone that knew a former version of me. A moment in time of an evolving being. The lenses of others might blur and fade over time, but they remain an honest reflection from the outside, if you are looking, and if you care to acknowledge what is proffered.

We filter ourselves in many ways, often to protect, sometimes to avoid, sometimes to simply hide. We filter others often for the same. Filters have value but it is worth noting that any valid system for such can get clogged, dirty, blocked from what is now incoming; if one is not static, how can be what one filters?

We learn as we go. If we can reflect on what was versus what is, then we are making our progress and doing our work. We will not be perfect, it isn’t possible or wise to seek such. We need to be pleased with our own growth, our own filters, freshly cleansed and examined if they need still exist.

This wise woman once showed me the true beauty of such. Leaving a meditation session she walked up to me in English-as-a-third-language succinctly stating “I must be more like dog. Less like cat!” She turned on the ball of her foot to immediately return to the session, the filter cleansed. Perfection!

So the lesson for the today is: clean your own filters. If you are a dog, be a dog. If you are a cat, consider the value of being so wary, but also be sure you are not about to choke on a fur ball.

The forecast is ebbing and flowing, unsure if it really wants to snow, and how much, if anything at all is to occur. Watch. Wait. All is good with what nature chooses to do. The large game hunters are gone and deer are slowly peeking out and sensing that safety has returned. I rarely see any during big game season, but they are now again nearly daily visitors.

The winter winds are back, however. An absolute blustery couple of days up on this old hill top, using wood piles to block the worst when waiting for the dog to do his routines. Hats on. Hoods up. Back to the wind. It can move you, and not in the spiritual sense.

The clarity in shift of self is sticking this time, and things are good. I am clear why I am here, in this valley, in this ranch, and just here.