Month: October 2020

I have had two interesting and movement inhibiting snow storms since I arrived. Neither was normal, typical, and none of the locals ‘have seen anything like it for this time of year.’ Nonetheless, they have happened. I am eight miles from pavement (and maintained roads) so both times, it is hunker down and wait and see what happens. Inaction? Not typical for this man, but it forces the self to slow down, accept the world around, shift into watching mode rather than doing mode, being rather than producing.

It is safer here than anywhere I have lived, even denoting the above. I have two fuel sources independent of any need for electricity. I have calculated four days of reserve power without the influx of new energy. My off-grid solar system can fail, as can any electronic service, but is mathematically far less likely to fail during a storm as compared to conventional power loss during said same. My fiber optic connection to the outside world is fully underground, so home systems seem normal even when the weather is wild. I now have over sixty meals in canned storage with a five year shelf life, beyond what was already planned. There is safety in such.

Pushing, shoveling and blowing snow reminds me of an observation once read.

…while no two snowflakes look alike, fifteen feet of them all piled up at once produces an impenetrable similarity – John Gould

The snowblower is fixed. My dismay was based upon inexperience; a part readily designed to break to prevent long term damage did in fact break. A small bolt to the rescue, the demon beast on tracks is seemingly fully operational. It does not like my snow, however, heavy, thick, wet and deep.

Moon Bug loves the snow, sans tracks. It can move, shove, and pile this stuff readily. After work, I start putting the tracks on, so it’s non-operational until all four are installed. My first try, but I am equally excited to see it rise on the tracks.

The sun plays great games with the snow. Some drifts are shallow, some many feet deep. We are staying put this weekend, letting the melt continue. I’ve heard most of the park is plowed out (and saw some folks plowing on another ridge), but I also heard plowing is not allowed. There are rules, but there are no rules. My patch is lovely, nonetheless.

So much for buying a Honda. The VERY FIRST TIME it was used to clear the driveway, it broke. One of the augers in the front stopped spinning and it goes in circles. I thought I bought top of the line, but nothing is what it was any more. I could have bought one for a third the price that also could have broken the first time it was used. Honda online? Got four hours to be on hold? And the snow tracks on it? They might be nice for city folk and paved driveways, but spin, spin, spin, oh does this silly heavy beast just sit and spin. Not all our purchases can be winners, and hopeful somebody will buy it next spring, assuming I can fix it (less than an hour to break!)

The snow is deep, thick and sticky. It finally got above freezing, but barely. There is much to do, but I am learning.

The weather shifted dramatically yesterday. Temps dropped over forty degrees in less than four hours. An easterly fog blew in, not quite the direction I was expecting. It began by simply wafting over the ridge behind me.

It soon took over Brophy and Spangle and headed towards Merlo.

The winds shifted and put me in the direct path.

With weird blizzard like conditions all night long, constant winds on this mountain top, it didn’t so much snow as it did end up in an amazing array of drifts.

Only two degrees upon waking, there is much to do and the snow is still falling, albeit gently and straight down, for a bit of normalcy.

Here are the current weather stats from my neighbor at the junction of Merlo and Schierl (two miles due west, about 350 ft less elevation).

Introspection today. Long drawn to the subcategory of Hard Science Fiction, these authors (Arthur C. Clark, Isaac Asimov, etc.) are often prophetic. Today is an excerpt from Ray Bradbury’s masterpiece, Fahrenheit 451, also prophetic. Not having predicted the combination of social media and a generation of participation trophy recipients, the decay was still predicted, although the medium changed.

Surely you remember the boy in your own school class who was exceptionally ‘bright,’ did most of the reciting and answering while the others sat like so many leaden idols, hating him. And wasn’t it this bright boy you selected for beatings and tortures after hours? Of course it was. We must all be alike. Not everyone born free and equal, as the Constitution says, but everyone made equal. Each man the image of every other; then all are happy, for there are no mountains to make them cower, to judge themselves against.

So! A book is a loaded gun in the house next door. Burn it. Take the shot from the weapon. Breach man’s mind. Who knows who might be the target of the well-read man? Me? I won’t stomach them for a minute. And so when houses were finally fireproofed completely, all over the world there was no longer need of firemen for the old purposes. They were given the new job, as custodians of our peace of mind, the focus of our understandable and rightful dread of being inferior; official censors, judges, and executors. – Ray Bradbury, 1953

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A mail run here is a different experience. The gate is about eight miles from the ranch.

The USPS/UPS/FedEx depot is also unique.

Different routes can be explored going to or fro.

About ninety minutes later, it’s back at the homestead and time for a fire.