Benjamin Scribner's Blog

The weeks news. Oh the joys of modern living.

It’s been a quiet week up here in New England, my old home. It’s been raining almost nonstop since we got here, with only a day or even a few hours between storms, I only managed to cut the back yard once, and it was at least six inches tall before I was able to mow it again. Speaking of mowing, this is the first time in close to twenty years that I have had to use a lawn mower. My ex, ever the lazy person, paid someone to do it rather than go outside to get a little exercise while I was on the road. I would have gladly mowed the lawn, then, as a break from driving, but it was already taken care of before I arrived home. Mowing wasn’t something we needed to do much of up on the mountain, so I didn’t worry about it then. Now, I own a lawn mower, and not just any lawn mower, it’s a Stihl electric, battery-powered mower. I like it, though it doesn’t like tall, wet grass and will use way more battery when abused so. Note to self, don’t mow wet grass.

Another thing we are getting used to is electricity without having a generator running as well as fast internet, and heat without having to carry in pellets or tend a stove, though, the cost of heating oil might drive us back to the pellet stove. The lovely wife is enjoying all of her new appliances we bought after getting unpacked; they make cooking so much easier for her. There’s a list of things we now own that we didn’t have in the cabin: a stacked washer and dryer, full size, so there is no more doing a small load and hanging clothes in front of the stove, or outside on a line, just throw them into the dryer, done; a kitchen cart on wheels with two shelves and a cutting board; a new meat grinder/pasta maker that is also a juicer and frozen treat maker; an electric coffee maker that brews quickly, so no more hovering around the gas stove waiting for that sacred elixir; and, I spotted an electric can opener on the list of things we needed to pick up next time we go shopping. Oh, the wonders of a modern kitchen!

In the cabin, the faucet in the kitchen only had the hot water side hooked up. When we wanted cold water, we would shut off the propane to the water heater, making that one side both a hot and cold water knob. We have both found ourselves reaching for the hot water faucet here more than once, and have to remind ourselves the cold water side is hooked up. Luckily, it takes a few seconds for the hot water from the water heater to reach the sinks, so if we forget, which I do often, it doesn’t matter that much.

Neither of us miss the road to our cabin, or having to navigate it during spring washouts with the deep ruts the runoff leaves in the road, nor will we miss having to use tracked machines to get in and out during the winter. Honestly, if I never see another snowmobile the rest of my life, I will die happy.

I do though, miss my moose, and wonder if the twin sisters have given birth once again near the cabin, and if the new owners appreciate it, or if they want them gone. There are moose around here, but the chances of having one or more in the yard is nonexistent. We do, however, have raccoons. We left trash bags in the trailer one night, intending to haul them to the landfill the next morning, only to find raccoons had climbed into the trailer and torn open all the bags. Lesson learned; keep the trash bags in the garage until you are ready to haul them away.

The unpacking is done, with the exceptions of the lovely wife’s craft room, which she is working on as I write, and my train room, in which I plan to build a framework for the layout soon. Until then, I am unpacking what I can, and making the basement room mine, hanging railroad related pictures (and a few of family and my Navy days), shooting videos, and fixing things up to my taste. I post my videos on YouTube under the handle Gandy Dancers Engine House. Swing on over and check them out. I’d love to see you there!

Well, that’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Moved in, a trip we won’t repeat, and memorial Day

“It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain,” is a phrase I shall not be using any longer. Instead, it has been a little over a week of unpacking, furniture hunting (they’re very shy and elusive) and eating out because the kitchen has been a mixture of unpacked boxes and dug out cookware from the motorhome. We made it safely to New England, where I was born, spent my childhood, and joined the Navy, in what seems like a lifetime ago. We are settling in to our new home, though it is an exhausting and slow-seeming process. The house is small, though bigger than the cabin we left behind. The dogs have settled in, while the cats, one in particular, had a bit of a struggle adjusting to the larger space. She is now starting to find her way and is becoming a part of the family once again. Our trip is something I wouldn’t want to repeat again in this lifetime, or any other for that matter. It started with one of the axles on our big trailer snapping in half before we had even gotten out of the state of Idaho. We ended up renting a trailer which left us having to hurry across the country instead of the slow, leisurely trip we wanted, taking our time and exploring some of the things I have passed by all the years I hauled freight across this country. Then, we had rain and high winds from Wyoming all the way across South Dakota, and I fought the 40-foot motorhome every mile until my shoulders and arms were on fire for days afterwards. Before we made it out of Iowa, after spending a little over a day with the lovely wife’s family, one of the wheels on the little trailer came apart. Luckily, we had a spare, but still had to have someone come out with the tools to change it. The trip is behind us now, and we are both thankful it’s over, vowing to never move again now that we’re here. We are now hanging pictures, some that have been packed up due to lack of wall space in the cabin, and others we purchased at an estate sale before we left Idaho. Books are also coming out of boxes, as well as nick knacks, again, some of which we had out at the cabin, and others that haven’t been out in years. There’s also the belly of the motorhome left to unload, and that will happen once we finish with the boxes from both of the trailers. Soon, we will be able to relax, maybe even take a short trip to the coast to visit my old stomping grounds, and possibly look up people I used to know. We’ll see how the summer plays out, but for now, we are just happy to be in our new home. It’s memorial day weekend, a time to reflect on those we lost overseas in the many conflicts over the years. There was a service in town today, one of many in the surrounding area, I’m sure. We didn’t attend but heard Taps being played somewhere nearby. I don’t need a day to remember, I live with it every day. We unpacked more boxes and enjoyed the beautiful day. I will, however, leave you with a poem I wrote a few years ago for this day. The Ghost Taps last note has faded,The mourners moved along.Yet one young lad still stands there,Quiet in the dawn.Tis the ghost of him that’s buried,Standing by his grave.“Will anyone remember me?’ Or the life I gave?Will anybody even care?That I fell that fateful day?Will anyone come by here?Now that I’ve passed away?Yes son we will remember,Those of us that live,Your sacrifice we shan’t forget,You gave all you had to give.Those of us that stand here,Will come here once a year,And remember all you did for us.For we hold our freedom dear. And those of us that served with you Shall remember every day,Your laughter, love and kindnessWill never fade away.So rest in peace there my young lad,You answered freedoms call,And know that we shall not forgetThose who gave their all. That’s all the news. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Our upcoming move, and I wax philosophic about a train set.

It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest. It’s March, and we’re getting closer to the closing date for the sale of our place, as well as to the beginning of spring. I am hoping that we can move close to the end of April since the new owners won’t be taking over until the end of May. One chapter ends, and another one begins, as we plan our move while searching for a new home somewhere in the state of Maine. We have been packing what isn’t needed right now, and weeding what we no longer feel we need to hang onto. Only some of the furniture will be coming with us. The barnwood deacon’s bench, dry sink, and two small shelves that have been in my family since I was a young teen, will be coming, as will the Hoosier cupboard, our bed, dresser, and a couple of other things we want to keep. The rest will end up down at the dumpsters, waiting for someone to snatch them up for their own. We are still planning on finding a good, used motorhome for the trip as it will be easier traveling with the dogs and cats. It will also be easier to tow the bigger of our two trailers packed with our larger items. The pickup will be towing the smaller trailer with everything we can pack into it, along with stowing more delicate items in the bed and the rear seat. It will be a bittersweet leave-taking when the time arrives. It’s Christmas morning of the year 1947; the great world war has been over almost two years now, and a father, himself fresh from overseas, with memories that still haunt him, wants to give his son something fun, and in turn he will hopefully bring back some pleasant memories of times long past for himself. The gift is a brand new Lionel train set. His son is overjoyed and begs to set it up. The boy takes great delight in running it along it’s track, loading and unloading, connecting and disconnecting its cars. However, as all things do over time, it gets packed away. It gets brought out at Christmas each year, then packed away once again. Eventually, it is no longer brought out even at Christmas. As the boy grows into a man, he never truly forgets about the gift his father gave him all the years before, taking the packed train with him in his travels. One day, the man, now a father himself, sets it up for his young daughter to see. After a few runs around the track, it is packed away once more. The father passes, and the train is nearly forgotten, tucked away, gathering dust in a far corner of the attic. For close to forty years, it sits waiting. The daughter, now grown, rescues the box from that dusty attic and presents it to her future husband, who receives it with as much delight as that young boy was, all those years past, to receive such a gift. He sets it up to see if it still works, but the years have not been kind to it. So, once again the train sits, though this time, on a shelf in a place of honor, awaiting the day when it might run once again. A few years later, the husband takes it from the shelf, takes it carefully apart, scrutinizes its numerous parts for signs of rot or corrosion. Wires are replaced, brushes are cleaned, grease and oil applied where necessary. Lo! Once again, the engine springs to life! Its whistle tender, long devoid of sound, whistles proudly again for all to hear; the lettering on its sides, faded and mostly missing, replaced with shiny new lettering it bears as a badge of honor. It survives, to run the tracks once again, this time not to see the inside of a closet, but to have an entire room dedicated to its very existence. It, along with a few others also rescued from obscurity, will again run along the rails, whistling as they once did for the young boys who treasured them in days long past. That’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. A new buyer, disappointment for cheerleaders , and, what else, trains.

It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest.

We have an offer on the cabin, and the closing date is set for the 31st of March, with the buyers wanting to start moving in around the 20th of May. If this warm weather continues, we could be moving out sooner, but I have seen winters that have held their breath until the last weekend of February, or the first week of March, only to dump a season’s worth of snow in a couple of days. So, not holding my breath here, but it’s looking a lot like 2015, when I came back from a vacation in the Dominican Republic at the end of the first week of April, and was able to drive all the way into my driveway. Only time will tell.

The lovely wife had a three day trip this past week taking high school cheerleaders to state competitions down in the southern end of the state. Sadly, they didn’t get even halfway down when they were stopped due to a semi truck hauling propane that wrecked, closing the road. Initially, they were told that the road would be open in about ten hours, so they managed to get rooms at a nearby motel for the night, hoping that if they got an early start the next morning they could still make the tournament. The next morning, they found out that the road would be closed for at least two days, maybe five. With no way around the wreck site that could get them to the tournament on time, they headed home. A real shame since the group had worked hard all season to get to that stage.

Moving on to model railroading, it seems as if I am moving away from HO scale, the scale I really wanted to model, to that of O scale, and in particular, Lionel trains. I started with this set I picked up cheap online, hoping to gain the knowledge working on it to tackle the locomotive that had once been owned by the lovely wife’s dad. Well, I have fallen down a rabbit hole of YouTube videos and how-to sites on everything from cleaning to rewiring. I started with the tender, or coal car, as some would call it, from the set I got online. It has a whistle, as does the one from the lovely wife’s set, and I figured I would see what I could do. I rewired a few things, then dug out the old 1947 transformer and a piece of track. I set the tender on the rails, hooked up the transformer, turned on the power, and pushed the whistle button. It took a couple of tries, then the whistle came to life, something that it most likely hasn’t done in fifty or sixty years. Fresh from my victory with that tender, I tore into the one from the lovely wife. Within a couple of hours of cleaning and rewiring, I had it working as well. Now I am waiting for a parts locomotive I found for the set I picked up so I can jump into rewiring that. I have already cleaned everything I can get to, and gone over the wiring more than once to make sure I understand where they all go. Once I have that locomotive running around the tracks, I believe I can rebuild the most important one, should it need it, though I am hoping all it needs is a good cleaning.

Maybe soon I will get back to building model buildings in HO scale, though I have run out of places to put them and have quite a few already packed up awaiting our move, but for now I am enjoying repairing these old trains from yesteryear, bringing them back to life. Who knows, maybe we will have a basement big enough that I can set up not only an HO layout, but one for Lionel trains as well.

Well, that’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Moving away from writing about life off grid, and start writing about model railroading

It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest. Other than our little generator dying on us, and having to order a new one, not much is going on up here. I do believe I can revive the old generator, and it will continue to run when needed, but it’s best to have a replacement on hand. Yes, we do have larger ones, but they burn a lot more fuel, so a smaller one is a must.

Since there isn’t much happening, I have decided to start moving away from writing only about life up here on the mountain, and start writing about other things you, the reader, might find of interest. For instance, that of model railroading. Many years ago, when the lovely wife first moved in (before she became Mrs. Lovely Wife), she gave me a train set. This was not just any train set, however, but a Lionel set that had been given to her dad as a child way back in 1947. I was as excited as a kid, promptly set up some track, hooked up the transformer, set the locomotive and whistling tender on the rails, and turned on the power. Unfortunately, nothing happened, not even a whistle. It had, after all, been languishing, untouched, in a box for who knows how many years. I was crestfallen, but packed up the track, building a shelf to show off the engine, tender, two freight cars, and the caboose. There it sits today. I have wanted to get it running but wasn’t sure how to go about it, or even where to start.

Recently, I was looking for some passenger cars to expand this set, thinking that, someday, I would find someone who could get the old locomotive running again. I did find three passenger cars, and they came with a tender that is also supposed to whistle but had no engine. These are from the year prior to the set the lovely wife gave me, so the tender and locomotive are different. Looking online, I found the right engine that goes with this tender and passenger cars, and bought it. It was a non-running engine, but it did give me an idea.

You may or may not know that, the first time I was in the Navy, I was a Torpedoman, and worked on them for years. I have a working knowledge of how things electrical should work, and how to read a wiring diagram. Because of this, I decided that I was going to try my hand at restoring these locomotives to running order once more. I started by disassembling this “new” tender, taking pictures of everything and where all the wires connected. I inspected the parts that make it whistle, discovered they were pretty simple, and I soon had the mechanism cleaned up. Most of the wiring appears to be in good shape for its age, so I will leave that wiring alone. But there are two wires that will need to be replaced before I put everything back together to see if my efforts were successful. I then turned my attentions to the locomotive, downloading a basic wiring diagram that gives me the idea of where all of the wires go. All of the wiring needs to be replaced in this motor, and a thorough cleaning is definitely needed, as there’s almost 80 years of crud built up inside. Once I am satisfied with my work on this one, I will tackle the more important one that sits waiting on a shelf above my head.

Well, that’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. VA math is confusing

It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest. The Va finely gave me a decision on my claim, bumping me up from 90% to 100%. It means a big bump in my monthly check, and now, the lovely wife will be covered by the VA as well. One of many perks afforded by the government for those of us who served and are 100% disabled. I achieved this rating in a rather round about way, though mostly thanks to the new PACT act signed into law recently, that not only covers those of us who served in Operation Iraqi Freedom, but those who also served in Vietnam. However, the VA uses math that would send any mathematician into a fit of rage, followed quickly by insanity. When I was first medically retired, the VA said I was 60% disabled. Fine, I said, but what about the ringing in my ears? OK, said the VA, we’ll give you another 10% for that, bringing you up to 70%. So far pretty straight-forward. A few years ago, during my first medical visit to the VA clinic, an on-the-ball VA doctor asked the right questions, and it became apparent that I have PTSD. After initial therapy that got the PTSD documented in my medical records and filing for a disability rating for it, the VA said they were giving me 70% for PTSD. Wait, you can’t get more than 100%, but in my math 70 + 70 adds up to higher than 100. No, they said, you’re now at 90%. Huh? The explanation given was that this additional 70% was taken out of the portion of the “non-disabled” 30%, and that was what was then added to the original 70% to get the 90% decision. If this leaves you scratching your head in confusion, you are by no means alone in this. From there, it continues to be just as, if not more, confusing. It was suggested that, because I also have osteoporosis (thank you thyroid), I should have a higher disability rating. After more testing, the VA said they would give me another 10% for that. Surely, that would make me 100%, right? Nope, I was still at 90%. Turns out that I actually needed 40% to make it to 100% even though I was already at 90%. Now, the VA has determined that, because of my COPD (thank you, Persian Gulf, and the lack of an EPA there), they would give me another 30% to add to that previous 10%, which , finally, brings the grand total up to 100%. Phew! Is it any wonder most veterans get frustrated with the VA? It’s often a confusing system where vets give up after many years of fighting for something that should be a given since they served. Now, thanks to the PACT act, many things are presumptive, meaning that the VA says you were there, you have this or that, we will assume it’s service connected already so you don’t have to fight for it, other than for it to be documented in your military medical records. As I said, this goes all the way back to those who served in Vietnam, were exposed to agent orange, and now have cancer, or other health issues related to that exposure. Many vets now won’t have to struggle so much with the system, and for that I am thankful. As to my own situation, thanks to my boost, the lovely wife no longer has to work if she doesn’t want to; my check will cover our expenses with some left over. For now, she’s going to finish out the school year, unless the school district extremely pisses her off. We will see where we are next fall, but if we’re still here, she might continue working, since they are so short on drivers, or she might stay home and drive me crazy, only time will tell. Well, that’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Improvements to the cabin, and winter, what winter?

It’s been a hectic few weeks up here on the mountain, my little slice of heaven in the great northwest.

I intended to write a post at the start of the year, but was sidetracked working on the cabin. The original builder of the “main” cabin really didn’t know what he was doing. He put insufficient R11 insulation in the ceiling and also left gaps in it where heat could escape through the roof. This caused ice dams to build up on the eves of the roof, preventing the snow from easily sliding off. There was also no vapor barrier covering the insulation.

I had been intending to do something about all of this, but life kept getting in the way. The ratty look and lack of any covering over the insulation were things we could no longer ignore since we were trying to sell the place. So, while the lovely wife was off for the holidays, we set about correcting it. We ripped out all the old insulation, put in better (R21), and then hauled up half-inch-thick plywood. These I ripped into 1-foot-wide strips and screwed them to the ceiling, covering the resulting seams with 3-inch-wide white cedar boards. We also used some old half-logs as crown molding between the walls and ceiling, putting it between the log rafters on top of the walls. We liked it so much that we’re planning on doing the same to the bedroom during spring break. Of course, hauling up 8 sheets of 4X8 half-inch-thick plywood in the winter, using a UTV, isn’t easy. After a couple of failed attempts, we ended up stacking and strapping it down on the roof. We will most likely end up doing the same next month with the plywood for the bedroom ceiling. If things get much warmer, it’s possible we could drive the pickup all the way in and not have to struggle with strapping it to the UTV.

Our weather started warming up right before Christmas, and it has mostly rained since. The snow we have has packed down to about sixteen inches in our yard, and the road has even less in some places. Much of the first mile in the clear cut area is a mix of ice and dirt, meaning I have to be careful when going up or down. It was concerning enough a few days ago that the lovely wife ended up spending the night in a motel because she had to be at work by 4 AM. This eliminated the need to get up at 1 AM and risk injury getting off this mountain in the dark. With the warm weather lately, the road is getting better, but if we don’t get colder temperatures and snow soon, I fear the fire season might be extreme this coming summer.

Another thing we did in the living room was to add a chandelier. Yes, you read that right. The last time we went to the city, we found a really nice, simple one. It is black with five bulbs that resemble candle sticks spread out in a star-like pattern. I spent a good hour mounting it to the ridge log and running a wire to an outlet. It hangs slightly below the log rafters, and lights up the entire living room when it’s on. With these improvements, I hope the next person who looks will buy.

Well, that’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Of holidays, sleigh rides, and old sailors.

It’s been a quiet week up here on the mountain, and for that we are thankful. The weather service has been calling for a lot of snow and below zero temperatures with windchills, but as of this writing, we haven’t had a fraction of what they were calling for nor the bitter cold. Let’s hope it stays that way. I would like a mild winter for our last one here.

It’s Christmas weekend, and most people are celebrating either the birth of their savior, Hanukkah, or the winter solstice, depending on your beliefs. There are fourteen religious holidays celebrated this month. The lovely wife and myself would like to wish everyone a happy day regardless of what, or whether, you celebrate. As for us, we will be unwinding at home with the dogs, a well deserved break from everything that has been going on this past month, as well as a break for the lovely wife driving teams to games.

We had a day this week when the temperature dropped to -12, and never really got above 0 the entire day. I was reminded of the early settlers of this country, especially in the plains states, as I went out to start the UTV, then later our pickup, neither of which really wanted to start. But back then, they had to deal with going places on foot, horseback, or maybe even a carriage or sleigh, exposed to all kinds of weather and no heat at all, except for possibly a blanket or robe of buffalo. We tend to complain about our struggles with machines not wanting to start, but once they have warmed up, we can go about our errands in comfort. Heated seats and heat blowing on you or the windshield keep everything at a decent temperature, while our ancestors had to deal without those benefits. Oh how much life has changed since then, and mostly for the better. I rode in a one-horse open sleigh once, many years ago, when I lived in Brookfield, NH. A friend of the family, Mont, had horses, and the required sleigh. It was a two-seater, if memory serves, and Mont rode in the front seat. This cold winter day, my friend John and I happened to be around when Mont rode by in the sleigh and invited us for a ride. He did have a buffalo hide blanket, complete with the fur still on it if a bit threadbare in spots, and John and I hopped in the rear seat, threw that blanket over our laps, and went for a ride into the neighboring town. After a hot drink at a local restaurant, we headed for home. It was a ride I will never forget, and do not wish to repeat ever again. I will stick to my heated pickup, with heated seats, and comfortable cab, thank you very much.

There is an old adage that has been passed on by sailors for hundreds of years, from Nantucket whalers to merchant seaman to Navy men. It has to do with old, or just tired, sailors leaving the sea. As I heard it, it was from the age of sail, but it carried over onto modern ships as steam replaced sails. But there is a story much older that, I believe, might be the origin of said tale. In Homer’s Odyssey, Tiresias, the blind prophet of Apollo, tells Odysseus to take an oar from his ship and head inland until he finds a “ land that knows nothing of the sea” where his oar would be mistaken for a winnowing fan. There he was to offer a sacrifice to Poseidon by burying the oar, and his journeys would be at an end. As an old sailor, first as a Torpedoman and then as a Seabee, I did head inland, all the way from the east coast to the northern panhandle of Idaho. Here, I thought, is where I my journey would end and I would bury my own oar; yet it is not to be so. The sea, as it will do, pulls me back to its embrace, and I can not long resist its call. Soon, this cabin will sell, and I will, once again, take up my oar and head east until there are those who will know exactly what it is I have on my shoulder. There, I will settle down, near mother ocean once more, living out the rest of my days near the sea that many before me have sailed upon and hold so dear. It will happen, it is only a matter of time.

That’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Fickle buyers

It’s been an insane few weeks up here on the mountain. The couple who wanted to buy our place put earnest money down, then sent over the rest of the agreed upon amount after their “inspection” of the property. Then, a few days later, backed out for the dumbest of reasons. They didn’t realize how much snow a mountain gets at 42,000 ft above sea level. Yes, you read that correctly, the husband told the Realtor he was no longer 30, and was no longer able to shovel off roofs, as we often do up here when the snow starts getting deep. Now, this guy is at least ten years younger than I am, and in much better health as well. I am 90% disabled and 61, while the lovely wife is seven years younger, and also not in great shape, yet somehow, we are able to maintain our cabin. So, now, the cabin is back on the market, awaiting someone who understands what it means to live off grid up here. In the meantime, the lovely wife and I will continue to make some improvements here that will benefit us, as well as whomever buys the cabin. I have talked about the twin moose up here, and how one of them has given birth twice now, while the other sister wandered around here seeming lonely. Well, it seems she might have gotten herself pregnant this fall. The lovely wife and I spotted her the other day, and she looked like she was getting fatter, so there will probably be a new addition to the mountain next June. Since we’re once again in a holding pattern with selling the cabin, something, by the way, made all the more difficult because this time of year I have to bring the prospective buyers up in our UTV, we are going to do a little more to improve the curb appeal here before the next showing. Maybe the next one who comes to look will buy. A couple things I wish these people understood is that this is an off grid cabin with no well, only a cistern; we haul our drinking water in, there is no flush toilet with septic tank, only a compost one, and we heat with a pellet stove. Travel during the winter is by UTV with tracks, snowmobile, or on snowshoes since the road isn’t plowed, and really, anyone who has lived on a dirt road in the winter knows that, unless sand or gravel is put down after plowing, the road will be a sheet of ice. Many have tried plowing the road up here, only to find out the hard way that it makes everything harder. Eventually, we will have the right person, or persons, wanting to buy the place knowing just what they are getting into, but until then, the lovely wife and I will carry on. It’s the week before Christmas, the lovely wife has had her last trip until after New Year’s, and now, we are just relaxing and enjoying each other’s company. We don’t put up a tree, because it’s just the two of us, though I have talked about maybe, when we’re settled into a new, and bigger home, I might do something for the season, though the dogs and cats have never seen a Christmas tree, and that might be a problem. Right now, there really isn’t enough room in the cabin for a tree, so it will have to wait. I hope everyone has a wonderful holiday, and a happy new year. That’s all the news for the week. Bye for now.

The weeks news. Change, and moving on.

It’s been an emotional week up here on the mountain. Planning and listing your place is one thing, but when someone makes an offer, that’s another. It has been a bag of mixed emotions here this past week, since someone has finally made us an offer. Now, I look around a cabin I built and wonder if I really wanted this. I know that my disability would eventually force me to consider leaving my home, a home that I built pretty much with my own hands. I look at the hearth, which I spent days gathering the stones for it from this mountain, then still more days building it. I gathered stone, many pickup loads, and took months building a stone wall next to the driveway. I look at the kitchen, which was the first room I built on the already existing 12′ X15′ cabin, then look at everything the lovely wife and I have done together, and have second thoughts.

I wrote seven books here, the first of which was enough that a stranger wanted to visit, to see for herself if things were like I wrote them. She ended up becoming the lovely wife, who has been by my side these last seven years through the good and the bad, the terrible weather during winter, and the crappy roads the rest of the year. She learned how to ride a snowmobile up here, and we fought this road with one damn machine or another for the first few years she was here. Things have improved a bit since then, but they aren’t going to change much more for a few more years, I suspect. My disability has gotten to the point that I will not be able to handle the outside chores for much longer, and that means the lovely wife has to not only work, but keep roofs clear of snow so they aren’t carrying too much weight. That’s too much on her shoulders.

We have come accustomed to the moose that hang around here, a few have become like family, and we both enjoy it when they show up. We leave a mineral like for them in the winter, and one has brought her newborn offspring right up the driveway as if to show off. We will miss that I think most of all.

I had thought I would look forward to moving back to New England, and in many ways I do. Yet, I can’t help thinking about what I have here, what I have built, the early memories I made, and, then, those the lovely wife and I have made together. We have laughed, loved, cried, and fought this mountain together many times. In the process, we have forged a bond with each other that many never do. Am I ready for the next chapter? I can say with certainty that I am. Will I miss everything we have here? Again, I can say with the same amount of certainty that I will.

Life is all about change; that is the one constant thing in the universe that we can count on. Change can be good, and things can be learned along the way. I am as ready as I will ever be for what this next chapter brings as I move through the winter of my life.

That’s all the news for the week. Bye for now, but not forever.