A Walk in the Mountains

I went for a walk in the mountains today. The National Weather Service had issued a blizzard warning and the road to the trailhead was already snowed in. I put the truck in four-wheel drive and pushed ahead. At the Noah’s Ark trailhead, I strapped on some snowshoes, grabbed some ski poles, and started up the trail. More than a foot of new snow was on the ground and the stuff was falling steadily. The woods were silent and dusky, and as I walked, I thought about a couple of things, scary things and practical things.

After hiking along through the snow for a few hundred yards, I came across the tracks of a lion. Actually, the lion had been using the trail and I followed its tracks. It was nice to have the trail broken for me in the deep snow, but after a while I began to feel a little spooky about it. I stopped to blow out one of the tracks. There was quite a bit of new snow in it. It must have been made several hours ago. Right? Besides, cats sleep during the day . . . don’t they? Lion attacks are rare, and it is silly to scare yourself by looking warily around in the quiet forest, but I did that for a while until the lion tracks dropped off the trail and fell away below me. (Of course, it was the Noah’s Ark trail, I guess I should have expected a second lion.)

As I worked my way higher on the mountain and the wind began to blow and the snow got deeper, I started to think about avalanches. It wasn’t really avalanche terrain, but there were a few gullies to cross and visibility was low. Now, I don’t want to scare anyone away from the mountains in the winter, especially myself, but avalanches are not rare, and people are killed by them every year in Utah. I kicked at a couple of steep pillows of snow. They weren’t going anywhere—too light and unconsolidated. There was no sense worrying about avalanches today, but it was a good reminder about winter travel in the mountains.

Besides scaring myself, I debated the merits of the snowshoes versus the skis I had left at home. Overall, I prefer skis in the mountains. For one thing, skis are better at supporting you on top of the snow than are the silly snowshoes sold today, which are hardly bigger than a pair of Sorrels. In addition, skis require only about half the steps of snowshoes (the uphill half) and can provide long gliding descents—instead of an uphill slog followed by a downhill slog. On the other hand, skis can be a bit of a trick to maneuver around steep switchbacks. And, sometimes, the gliding benefits of skis can make the descent a little too fast for comfort—especially in thick trees. Today, I was on a pretty rough trail with a number of switchbacks through the dense scrub oak, so I concluded that snowshoes were the right choice for the job.

I got pretty high up on Noah’s Ark today. I hiked along some exposed ridges, the wind blew, and I experienced that fierce joy of being alone in the mountains in the winter. But, besides my camera, I wasn’t carrying anything—no food, no water, no shelter, no dry socks, nothing. When I travel like that, I try to rein in the urge to go just a little further; I start to think about how far I am from the truck and what it is going to take to get back to it. So, I turned around before the top. I went down, I drove home, and I dried my wet socks on the woodstove.

White Out/Black Out

The wind blew hard during the night and, before daylight, the snow started coming in sideways. It was one of those blizzards where you can't see across the street. I was up, in the dusky dawn, starting the fire and the coffee. I had a couple of lights on, but they soon flickered and went dark. It was the start of a three hour black out. The good thing, however, about living like 19th century homesteaders is that our routine pre-electric lifestyle is not really impacted by, well, a lack of electricity. I put on a headlamp (Aha, battery powered devices were not available in the 19th century.), gathered a few candles, and moved the coffee pot to the top of the woodstove. Done. Let it snow. We cooked breakfast on the woodstove (OK, the final touches were done on a propane camp stove.), ate by candle-light, and sat in the living room looking at old Sears Roebuck catalogues. Maybe we'll send away in the mail for one of those new hand-crank washing machines.

Christmas Tree

It isn't all hard drudgery at The Homestead, sometimes we take a day off to enjoy the mountains. Yesterday we went Christmas tree hunting in the snow and fetched home a nine foot fir. I cut about a foot off the bottom to make it easier to wrestle through the door. The girls did the decorating and it looks really good. Last year at this time we were trying to move in to the house and I had to grab a tree on my own—not exactly in keeping with the family tradition. I found an ugly pinyon along the road near Escalante and threw it on top of one of my loads. We brought it with us to Grandma and Grandpa's house and the girls did a nice job with it, but this year's version is way better. With all due respect to the lowly pinyon, I think I'm sold on the true fir at Christmas time. Now, I'm going to call this one a subalpine fir (Abies bifolia), but someone could convince me that it should properly be called a western subalpine fir (Abies lasiocarpa). The taxonomy of the three (or four) subspecies/varieties has me a bit confused. (It is tough to see the leaves in this picture, but there is a specimen just to the right of Ellen.)

Skiing the Homestead

The Homestead received only about three to five inches of snow out of our latest storm. But, the girls felt like that was a sufficient base for setting track. There was a good straight-away along the north side of the property, a turn around the garden, and a small down-hill run in the orchard. Soldier Hollow? Who needs it? Of course, the southern Utah sun may have something to say about the long-term success of our Nordic resort.

Temperature Data

Now that winter weather has arrived, my office can be a bit chilly. While the wood stove is nearby (in the next room), it is difficult to move the warm air from the stove to my desk. A former homeowner's solution was to install a duct in the attic with an intake vent above the stove and an outflow vent above my desk. In the middle of the duct-work is a small fan, positioned to move air from the warm side to the cool side. What a good idea. I mean, that is virtually free heat.

When we moved in, the fan didn't work. I fiddled with it this fall, and even took it to my father-in-law for some maintenance. I finally got it working and felt pretty good about this new way of heating the office. The only problem was that my self-satisfaction seemed to be the only warm glow associated with the project. After a day or two, even I had to admit that it didn't feel much warmer at the desk than it had before. So, I decided to collected some data to see how well it was working.

For 90 minutes on Wednesday, from 8a to 9:30a, I kept the door to the wood stove closed while I ran the fan. The temperature went from 52.6F to 52.2F and back again. (See above.) At 9:30a, I opened the door and shut off the fan. The temperature went from 52.6F to 59.8F over the next 90 minutes. Now, I ain't too good at statistics, so I don't know if my data are significant, but it looks to me like the fan is making things worse. How can this be?

The only thing I can think of is that the air is traveling slowly through an unheated attic and cooling as it moves. The length of the duct is about 30 feet, the attic is cold, and all the heat is gone before it arrives. It is hard for me to believe this, since the ducting is insulated, the air above the stove is super-hot, and 30 feet isn't all that far, but I can't think of anything else. The fan is an old, slow, and probably ineffective squirrel cage, so perhaps it just can't move the air fast enough.

How Not to Cut a Tree

I was in the woods yesterday hurrying to fill another firewood permit before the snow flies later today. I found a smallish, standing-dead Douglas fir. It was leaning the wrong way, but I figured that I could out-smart it and drop it where I needed it. Wrong. I put on a short primer called "how not to cut a tree" and ended up having it settle on my back-cut, closing the kerf and irrevocably pinching my bar and chain. This is never a good situation, but it is even worse when the tree is standing over your head and you are no longer in control of it. It is a recipe for a broken neck.

The first thing I did was unbolt the rest of the saw from the bar, no sense having the whole saw destroyed just because the bar was likely to be ruined. Next, I pounded a wedge into a small crack in the kerf next to the bar. It wasn't much, but I hoped to lift the tree enough to wiggle the bar. No luck. So, I went to the truck for a rope and a cam-strap. I gingerly positioned the strap as high on the stem as I could reach and cammed it to the rope. I took the rope to a small cottonwood and made a Z-drag. I pulled it tight and went back to the tree; I pounded the wedge; I went to the cottonwood and tightened the rope; I went to the tree and pounded the wedge; I went back to the rope and pulled it again. When I returned to the tree, low and behold, it had let go of my bar and chain. I inspected the bar and could find nothing wrong, so I put it back on the saw. Amazingly, it was completely undamaged.

I was back in the Douglas fir business, so I grabbed a couple of extra wedges, doubled them up, and pounded them into the now open kerf. The tree started to go, so I ran away. Instead of a satisfying crash, however, I heard nothing. I turned back to look. The small branches of my dead tree had become entangled with the live branches of a neighboring tree, and the whole thing was hung up. This, dear reader, is the time to go home. This is the time to collect all of your functioning equipment, not to mention your good health, and slope off to the nearest pub for some cold refreshment and a few moments of silent reflection.

Unless, of course, you want to give it one last try before you go . . . . Foolishly, perhaps, I tightened my Z-drag one last time and began some careful cutting just above my original cut. This is a dangerous business because the butt of the tree can snap loose at any time and take your head with it. Without any further mishap, however, I was able to carefully re-cut it and have it fall exactly where I had planned. The Douglas fir is now in my wood pile. I told you that I was smarter than a dead tree.

Robespierre

Jerry, my neighbor, stopped by the other day and dropped off a machine to help me with the box elder. Now, I can't prove that this thing was used during the French Revolution, but I can't prove that it wasn't either. It is no longer in service as a guillotine, but it had a lot of work to do on the box elder. That stuff was twisted. And, coming from me, that is saying something. I had split a fair amount of it by hand, but some of the pieces were virtually impossible. In one case I had buried multiple wedges in a chunk and had to hit them about 60 times each. Robespierre groaned and smoked a little bit on that particular one, but got 'er done.

Black Gold

It is time to put the garden to bed. We've planned to have our friend, Dr. Free, come over from Paragonah with his tractor to till it, but weve wanted to have some organic material mixed in, something more than leaves. Today I went over to the horse barns at the county fair grounds. Bingo. Black Gold. I mean, this stuff would cost $5 per bag at Home Depot. It is a mix of hay and horse poop, but it has been self-composting for who knows how long. It was steaming as I shoveled it into the truck. I think we'll be back here every day. This stuff is going on the garden, on the lawn, on the orchard, on the dinner salad . . . .

First Snow

Yesterday we got a foot of snow at The Homestead. Now, I'm not one for hot weather and I don't necessarily like the summer, but I prefer to have snow AFTER Halloween, not before. We've still got leaves to pick up and mulch; we've got a little more garden clean-up to finish; we need more wood split and stacked; we've still got one leak in our roof that I've not been able to seal; there are three unfinished storm windows to install. In short, as beautiful as the first snow of the season can be, we're not ready for it at Rural Ways.

Transportation Dilemma

We own a 1995 Mercury Sable. It has about 180,000 miles on it and it ain't much to look at, but we've relied on it for more than six years. It is good in the snow; it is roomy and comfortable; it is relatively efficient (around 30 on the highway); and it was paid for long ago. Recently, though, the transmission has started slipping. It hesitates and then clunks into gear. We called the guys down the street at Reese Automotive, but they don't even want to work on it. They said it isn't worth it. They may be right. Generally, at Rural Ways we fix things rather than replace them, but this may be a case where we don't bother. The car, according to Kelly Blue Book, is worth between $250 and $750. I looked for a rebuilt transmission on line. There was one available for $1400. Is it wise to buy a $1400 part for a $700 car? We may try nursing it for a few months, but this may be the end of the trail for our Sable.

Hard Truth About Expenses

At Rural Ways we are always looking for ways to reduce our expenses. The lower our monthly outflow, the less we need to earn and/or save to maintain our household. I had an unspoken goal of $1500 for our monthly expenses. (And by monthly expenses, I mean everything. Every penny that it takes for Rural Ways to exist each month.) And, I had an untested assumption that we were close to that. Unfortunately, assumptions often don't stand a closer look. Today, I took a hard look at the numbers and came up with something more like $2000. I would think that with a couple of spending tweaks and some better accounting, we could be at or below $2000 per month consistently. As for $1500 per month, that is a pipe dream right now. A 25% reduction won't come easily even for Rural Ways' somewhat frugal lifestyle. Anyway, it is not a bad goal and there are a couple of things to look at. First, the electric bill continues to be higher than it could be. Second, we need to rethink our insurance position in a couple of areas. (More on that later.)

Home Grown Herbs

Rural Ways is now the proud owner of a hand-cranked herb mill. It cost about five dollars, was made in China, and was available for shipping to southern Utah for about another five dollars. On the day of its arrival it successfully demonstrated its ability to turn dried cayenne peppers into "ground" red peppers in just moments. Of course, given that one can buy 16 ounces of ground cayenne pepper for about six dollars, it may be a couple years before the herb mill pays for itself. But, hey, what do we care about the cost? According to "Shirley's Wellness Cafe," cayenne pepper is a "miracle" herb. Dr. Christopher has posted a recommendation to Shirley's web page claiming (roughly) that a cup of cayenne tea will cure a heart attack. I'm not sure about that, but I'm looking forward to sprinkling it on a big plate of huevos rancheros this weekend. Check out Shirley's here:

http://www.shirleys-wellness-cafe.com/cayenne.htm#

First Frost

On Tuesday, the temperature was in the eighties; by last night it was in the twenties. That kind of sixty degree swing can have a dramatic effect on one's garden. So, we had a final harvest and piled everything in the pantry. There are apples, pears, pumpkins, squash, cukes, zukes, and tomatos. The squash are already being seeded, baked, skinned, and frozen. This winter we'll pull them out for Butternut Bisque. Rural Ways does not know what "bisque" means, but the following ingredients make a soup-like food that keeps one warm and strong all winter:

2 lbs butternut squash
2 tbsp butter

2 carrots, sliced

1 onion, chopped

1 stalk celery, chopped

2 potatoes, peeled and cubed

5 cups chicken stock

1 1/2 tsp curry powder

pinch each of nutmeg and ginger

sour cream for garnish

Saw Chain

We've got some firewood stacked in the yard . . . which is better than last year. But, it is time to find more. Unfortunately, the chainsaw is dull. The street tree that we found last winter had some hardware in it. When the chain found the hardware, the edge came off. Now what? We've got a file, but it doesn't seem to work well . . . probably operator error. When the chain is machine sharpened or factory sharpened it makes chips; when it is hand filed it makes dust. We can keep trying, but it would be nice to know how make a saw chain sharp without taking it to the shop.

Apples

The Homestead came with two producing apple trees. We gave them some amateur care and watering and they grew some pretty nice apples. Unfortunately, we only sprayed once, and that was not enough to keep them from becoming wormy. Probably about sixty percent of them are too bad to eat. (It would be good to have a pig to feed.) But, even with just 40% of the crop, we are filling the freezer: apple sauce, apple butter, apple crisp, dried apple, apple scampi. OK, not that last one, but we're almost ready for winter. The harvest is well underway.

Roofing

Like the rest of The Homestead, the roof is ramshackle. Mostly it works, but there are a couple of bad spots. This one is probably the worst. There is a little low roof over the screen porch where everything funnels off the rest of the house. At the point where all the snow and ice and water come down the valley and off the main roof it has been leaking for some time. Probably for years. We were able to stop it temporarily this winter with some heavy plastic. But, now we're trying to put a better patch on it. We really need a new roof, but can't afford it right now, so maybe some metal will get us through the winter. Ugly, ain't it? About that day job . . . better keep it.

Not Just Eggs

Last month we blogged about the backyard chicken craze. At that time, we noted that some New York based members of the family had established a flock. Well, it turns out that chickens provide more than eggs. Once my brother-in-law determined that they owned three roosters (which is two too many), he set his mind on a chicken dinner. The way he tells it, one can behead, pluck, gut, stuff, and roast two chickens in as many hours. Now my brother-in-law is well known for his squeamishness when it comes to blood and guts, so if he can do it without breaking a sweat, it should be a good option for most homesteaders. When it was all said and done, I asked him how it tasted. He answered, predictably, "like chicken."

Forebears

I came across this picture of Poppop today. Talk about homesteading. He'll want to do a little something about that roof before winter. Actually, despite Poppop's possessive look, no one at Rural Ways grew up in this cabin; no one at Rural Ways even knows anyone who grew up in this cabin. But, it doesn't look too bad. With a little water piped from the spring, a shed full of dry pinyon, and some clay and wattles for the roof, it might even do for Willie Yeats. (Sorry for the obscure reference.)

Cucumbers

We've tried to grow cucumbers before without much success. This summer we planted about three or four hills of them, hoping that each one would produce a cucumber. Well, each one has produced about a dozen . . . every day. We've had so many cucumbers that we rented a billboard on the freeway to try giving them away. OK, not a billboard, but we did have a sign. When Rural Ways was out of town, these two got together and formed a socialist republic. It turned into a vigorous knife fight, but we were finally able to sever them from the vine and cart them into the house. Now we'll see if they're good for eating.

Garden Costs and Benefits

OK, so having a big vegetable garden is a nice hobby, but does it pay? This is something I am always wondering about: By the time it is all said and done, does it save any money to grow a bunch of vegetables? My gut feeling is that it really doesn't . . . at least not much. But, as I promised last week, I am posting my sister and brother-in-law's back of the envelope calculations. This is what they figure:

"Greens: we eat lots of lettuce type greens. Off season, we can easily dedicate an average of $60/month from the grocery budget to greens. While the garden is producing (and we get greens for 5 months) we eat even more, and a much wider variety, and it’s all organic. We invested $14 of seeds. 5 months @ $60/month = $300.

Beans: Isabella (now 14) spent most of last summer (she believes) sitting in the garden picking beans (we sometimes call her “Harvester Belle”). Last year we yielded about 50# of beans. Beans are easy to freeze and lasted through much of the off season. Seeds cost $5. 50#’s @ $2.29/lb (organic) = $114.50

Tomatoes: Last year we froze about 20 quarts of sauce which (the organic equivalent) might cost $5.99/qt to buy = $119.80. We also had two months of eating lots of fresh tomatoes – (can I say “priceless”?) we invested $40 in plants.

Squash: We estimate a yield last year of 50#’s. @ $2.99/lb for organic squash = $119.50 (seeds were $10).

Peppers: Last year we spent about $30 on plants and yielded about 30#’s. You can easily average $5/lb for organic peppers = $150. This year, [with the global climate cooling trend stopping our peppers in their tracks] who knows?"

So, there you have it. They are figuring that the garden produces a net financial savings of approximately $700/yr. for a family of five. Of course, this does not account for the value of the land, the cost of water, the up-front costs of building the deer fence, etc. It also does not account for the cost of labor . . . but, hey, it's a hobby, right? For me, the thought that comes to mind is that big American agriculture is incredibly efficient. I know, I know, agribusinesses are second only to the people that provide us with cheap energy in the list of those we should hate, right? I mean, we can sit here fat and comfortable surrounded by food cheap enough to throw away and smirk self-righteously at "big agribusiness" because the media tells us relentlessly that they are bad. But, I've got to say that it is tough to complete with that kind of efficiency.

Thrifty

Rural Ways went shopping for back-to-school clothes yesterday. We bought nine items—three pairs of pants, three shirts, one pair of shorts, one skirt, one dress. Total cost: $4.50. Then, we went to Cal Ranch for one item—a hat. Total cost: $22. Granted, the hat is a bit of a specialty item—a 7 and 1/8 inch Bangorra by Alamo—but, clearly, the Catholic Thrift Shop in Cedar City, Utah will continue to be our retailer of choice. (John Maynard Keynes must be rolling in his grave.)

Chickens

My sister and brother-in-law just installed a clutch (herd? flock?) of chickens on their 20 acre patch in upstate New York. My next door neighbors did the same on their half acre a couple of months ago. The putative reason is that chickens produce eggs and eggs feed the family. Unfortunately, neither my sibling's birds nor my neighbor's birds have produced so much as an empty shell. Is this some kind of hoax? Not so, says none other than The Economist. Not only is it for real, but it is actually a "craze." (Read about it here: http://www.economist.com/world/unitedstates/displaystory.cfm?story_id=13856313). So, why doesn't Rural Ways keep chickens? For the same reason that we don't keep a horse, a dog, a cow, or a goat: Animals require care . . . all the time . . . even on the weekends. Because our weekends, and even our weeks, are often spent traveling away from The Homestead, it doesn't make sense.

Electrical Outlets

When we bought The Homestead, we split the cost of an electrical upgrade with the seller. The house had an old 60 amp system that was somewhat inadequate. We got it upgraded to 200 amps, which was a good choice since most of the home's appliances are powered by electricity. We did not, however, pay to "rewire" the house, so we are stuck with the existing outlets. The home pre-dates electric service so the outlets have been added in ones and twos on an ad-hoc basis over the years. The living room has one outlet, the studio/office has two, the kitchen has three, etc. This isn't really a problem except in the studio/office. For nineteenth century homesteaders, we have a suprising number of electronic devices: two modems, three printers, two scanners, two computers, two cameras, and a phone. Dear Fire Marshall, does this look like a problem to you? Rural Ways has no training in energy engineering, but is available for consulting on the construction of power-strip daisy-chains such as the one pictured.

Cash for Clunkers

Cash for Clunkers was "unveiled" today. Sounds like a good deal for clunkers drivers, huh? Rural Ways drives two clunkers: A 1993 Chevy pick-up with a 5.7 liter V8 and about 150,000 miles; plus, a 1995 Mercury Sable with a V6 and 180,000 miles. But these don't qualify as clunkers under the $1 billion dollar program. In order to qualify, the Chev needs to get less than 15 miles to the gallon. It could be close. If we drove it like most people drive (with two speeds: full-on and full-off) we'd get probably 12 or 13. But we like to use hyper-miling techniques to get 16 to 20(http://www.hypermiling.com/). For the car, we'd need to get less than 18 miles per gallon. Even with a V6, gentle driving can yield more than 30 mpg on the old Sable, so there is no way. The "environmental" reasoning behind this part of the program is that inefficient vehicles will be replaced by more efficient vehicles.

Of course, even if one of our vehicles did qualify, we would want to trade it in for a "used" car since that is where the long term value is. But, no, the money is only available to purchase a new vehicle. The "economic" reasoning behind this part of the program is that it doesn't help Detroit to have people buying used cars.

Obviously, the cash for clunkers program is a clunker. First, it makes little environmental sense to encourage people to buy new cars. Sure, they may be marginally more fuel efficient, but the manufacturing process requires incredible inputs of energy, nickel, steel, cadmium, lithium, plastic, and etc. This is totally un-accounted for and cannot possibly be justified when compared to the long-term maintenance and preservation of existing vehicles. Second, it makes little economic sense for most families to pay the premiums associated with new vehicles. A used vehicle would likely provide equal transportation for half the cost and a new vehicle would likely come with a usurious interest rate that can scarcely be afforded by the average family.

Picking Everyday

The garden has reached its productive phase. We need to pick every day. After Friday and Saturday, I put it on the scale: Two pounds. That's one pound a day of fresh beans, peas, zukes, and yellow squash. Today we grabbed a large head of lettuce for Grandma and Grandpa. It has been a lot of effort to get up and running this year, but now it is starting to pay off. What does a head of lettuce cost at Food Town? I don't know, but my sister and brother-in-law have done some calculations that show a direct financial benefit from the garden. When they send the numbers, I'll post 'em.

Old Chimney

Early Utah construction materials often included local bricks, made of native clay and dried in the sun. I'm not sure that our original chimney was quite that earthy, but after many decades in the southern Utah weather, it had become more like a pile of dry mud than a chimney. We hired Buddy to fix it for us . . . and he tried. But, in the interest of safety and functionality, we eventually authorized him to use modern bricks for a rebuild. The old chimney is now on the ground where it, hopefully, can't hurt anything.

New Pipeline

The City of Parowan is a universal service provider. That is, the City manages all services necessary for a comfortable existence. The City provides electricity, culinary water, a library, a swimming pool, garbage collection, irrigation water, law enforcement, a retirement home, and free universal health care. (Ooops, skip that last one, the US Congress is working on it right now, so why saddle Parowan with the burden.) One of the quirks that comes with all this utility is a very wide street-side right-of-way. Between the edge of the street and The Homestead is a vast expanse of lawn that appears to belong to us, but does not. And it would be foolish to plant anything in it either because, without warning, the world can be filled with the sound of multiple track-hoes for the better part of a week while a new waterline is installed.

Hail Storm

We've had a couple of wet weeks. Each afternoon a thunderstorm has rolled through and given us a good pelting. After living in Escalante for five years, it feels as though we have moved to Costa Rica. We've never seen so much water. Yesterday, Ellen and I were out hiking in the canyons and, when we got home, there was a bit of a hail storm between the truck and the house. After I took this picture I told Ellen that we'd jump out and make a run for it. I got out first and stood there in the deluge urging her to jump. She balked and started crying. I grabbed her, slammed the door with my foot, and ran to the back door. Later, I said, "Hey, you're a big strong kid. No crying about a rain storm."

Home-made Tomato Cages

Tomato cages at Walmart are cheap. They are also flimsy. The ones I make are neither. (Of course, if I simply sat at the office for the hour that it took me to make this one, we could probably go to Walmart and buy about twenty of them.) Mine start with an old fence, full of the local terroir. They are crafted by hand and molded to fit the individual nature of each tomato plant. As a final touch, each point is personally filed by me. The result is practically a work of art.

Late Spring

When we moved-in this winter, the Homestead was relatively barren and cold. With summer approaching, things look much different. The trees have leaves, the grass is greeen, and there are many flowering shrubs. Yesterday, we had a Memorial Day picnic on our screened porch during a cool spring rain. We sat and talked about all the work that still should be done, but we agreed that the old place was attractive. It is still a bit rambling and ramshackle, but after five-years in a plastic box (the Escalante house), it isn't a bad change.

Health Benefits

Managing the homestead can be hard work, but there are certain benefits that come along with the sweat. One of them is saving money on gym memberships. Rural ways is forty-something, but still going strong. So far there has been no temptation to join the obesity epidemic. Today I finished the first bit of fence to protect the garden. The roll of wire was 330 feet long and weighed between 183 and 276 pounds, depending on which gauge I bought . . . I can't remember. Anyway, I cut and set the posts, and then strung the wire, all of it by myself—though Valerie helped me pull the fence tight while I swung the hammer. It is difficult to put on much extra flab while doing that kind of work. On the other hand, those who know me, know how much I dislike being called "skinny." "Lean and mean" if you must, with an emphasis on the mean, but skinny is as skinny does, and that ain't skinny. Of course, you can earn the right to call me skinny, but it will require a least one broken bone. So far the only person who can use the term is Big Daddy Holmstedt who once gave me such a violent bear hug that he cracked a couple of vertebra.

The Shed

The Homestead has a shed. It may have been considered a garage at one time, but no one would call it that now. Before we bought the place, someone had crashed into the east side of it and pushed the wall out about 12 inches. It wasn't in any danger of collapsing, but I thought maybe I could do something with it. I put the jack on it yesterday and got most of the wall up high enough that I could see daylight under it. Then I hit it a bunch with a 12 pound sledge. It moved a little, but it didn't want to go all the way back to vertical. Good enough, I guess.

Floors

The oldest part of the homestead is a 14'x16' brick or mud cabin that we are using for an office and studio. The rest of the house surrounds it now, and we aren't sure how old it is, but it came with a decent wall to wall carpet that was installed fairly recently. We are, of course, tearing it out. I have only a few minutes per day to work on it, so I can only do a piece at a time. But, look at the floor. I think it will be beautiful when we have the whole thing exposed. Now we just need to protect it from the oil painter—no more Jackson Pollock workshops.

Scaredeer

Ellen and I made a scaredeer today. (And don't say it looks like me.) Ellen drew a face with the mouth yelling, "ARRRR." I found the old Carrhardts and did wonders with some twist-ties. The fence is going in, too. So between the scary guy and the field wire, the local marauders ought to find it easier to go elsewhere.

Emancipation

When Rural Ways started college . . . um . . . more than twenty years ago, we borrowed money to do it. Since that time, we have been "in debt" in one form or another. While there is "good" debt (asset backed mortgages) and "bad" debt (consumer credit cards), owing money feels enslaving to us and it is something we have worked to eliminate. Well, we've succeeded. For the first time since the mid-1980s we owe nothing. Rural Ways is debt free. No credit cards, no student loans, no car payments, no mortgages, nothing. Independence Day.

Sprouters

Many of the trees planted around semi-arid southern Utah over the past 150 years are drought tolerant and fast growing—not to mention downright aquisitive. They are typically prolific seeders and sprouters and can quickly colonize an area. The worst of these is probably the inaptly named Chinese Tree of Heaven (Alanthis altisima), an ugly and agressive invader with a foul smell. (I mean, if they've got these things in heaven, I'd rather go to the other place.) Others include various locusts, elms, and poplars. A native tree with similar characteristics is the Box Elder (Acer Negundo). It is a messy, shapeless little tree with poor form and a propensity for rotted heartwood and broken branches. It is also the source of my free firewood for next year (see my February 19 entry). So, I have a bunch of it cut up and laying in the yard. Look what it is doing. This is a very poor picture of a chunk of Box Elder sending up sprouts. This is not rooted; it is not buried; it is not cultivated. It is a piece of firewood that is sprouting. Valerie said that we'd better be careful or our entire wood pile will root itself and turn into a Box Elder tree.

Indoor Garden

We are trying to get the garden fenced and tilled. It would be nice to have some starts in the ground. On the other hand, if we'd jumped the gun, everything would be frozen by now. Utah is in the grip of a cold snap. Yesterday, numerous sites broke eighty year old records. It is colder here than it has been since the 1920s. I guess we'd better keep the seedlings in the window for now.

Electric Bills

I haven't figured out a way to stop buying gasoline for the vehicles, but we have cut our natural gas bill to near zero. The only other energy that we purchase each month is electricity. Unfortunately, this house is an electricity hog. Over the past three months we have averaged $103/month on electricity. That is a hard number to swallow for a nineteenth century homesteader. In Escalante we would spend about half of that on a very bad month. Of course, this house is all electric—electric hot water heater, electric range, electric dryer. Plus, I've moved my office into the house now, so we are running two computers, two monitors, and two printers each day. But, still, there has got to be a way to cut our consumption. (And I'm not trying to be righteous here; I'm just cheap.) Voila. The bath water is heating on the woodstove. It makes me feel so little-house-on-the-prairie.

Real Storms

I had to go to Salt Lake last week for a meeting. While I was there, I went over to George's to pick up some storm windows (http://www.georgessalvage.com/). Melanie was helping me and we had to go all the way to the back of the property and upstairs to find them. It was quite a bit of work to get them out to the car. But, when I tried to put them in, they wouldn't fit. I should have driven the truck. Eventually Melanie helped me feng shui them. We got them into the front seat while leaving me just enough space to drive. Now they are home and ready to be prepped for installation.

Fencing

When we moved to Escalante I put up a field fence mostly to keep out the dogs. It wasn't deer proof, but we theorized that it served as a deer deterrent. I mean, why jump it when you can walk next door and eat those trees instead? We didn't avoid all depredation, though, and I even bought some panther piss once to try keeping them off a miserable little ponderosa that I was trying to grow. Likewise, the Homestead came without fencing. It also came with a deer trail through it. When we moved in, the previous owner had left some rotting autumn pumpkins on the porch. The deer ate every scrap of those. Now we are trying to get the orchard in shape and we will start the garden shortly, so what are we going to do about the deer? Um . . . a fence? I'm going to make this one taller, but I don't have the resources to make it deer proof. What I do have is the mother of all corners. I cut a five inch locust out of the side yard because it was growing into the power line. It was so heavy I could only lift one end at a time. But once I got it into place and poured a bag of cement down the hole, I had what I wanted: A fence post to last through all eternity.

Before and After

The Homestead needs a lot of work. Some of it, like the leaking roof, needs more attention than those things that are only cosmetic. On the other hand, one needs a place to sit and relax from time to time. So, we started with the living room. We didn't do a lot, mostly just patching, painting, and cleaning. But, it feels like home to us now and looks better than it did in December.

Shearing the Sheep

My friend Don Evans used to say, "The difference between a bad haircut and a good haircut is about one week." Which is great, because I used the sheep shearer on myself today. I admit, it is never going to look as good as a professional trim—even after several weeks—but you can pay between $5 and $15 for one of those. If my memory serves, I bought the shearer in 2001 or 2002 for around $35. The way my hair grows, it needs to be cut about once a month or maybe every six weeks—let's say ten times a year. Even if you only spend $5 at the barber, and the days when you could do that are probably over, it would cost about $50 per year to keep fit—on the high end it could be more like $150. So, over the past 6 to 8 years, I've probably paid for the shearer at least ten times over. Plus, if we ever raise any sheep, we'll be able to harvest the wool for free.

Uhmmm . . . Nope; Not Spring

I had planned to go up on the forest today to try to find more firewood. (I know, most of the entries in this blog are about keeping warm.) The workdays have been dry and sunny, of course. But, when the weekend arrives, so does the blizzard. It snowed all night and most of the morning. If it had been cold, I could have pushed through the snow, but this was the sloppy stuff. It makes for slippery four-wheeling and a wet load of wood. I stayed home instead and painted the peach out of one of the bedrooms. How about tomorrow?

Springtime; Tea Time

What did Punxsutawney Phil say this year? Is winter over? It seems to be on the homestead. One way I know is that we did a lot of work in the yard this weekend. The other clue was high tea set on the manor grounds. The girls weren't huddled around the wood stove with their scones and Darjeeling today. Instead, they took their afternoon refreshment on the old world furnishings in the garden.

Money Where the Mouth Is

Knowledge of Rural Ways is about self-reliance; not self-sufficiency. We are supported by our friends and family and could not make it on our own. In our latest post, there is some evidence of scepticism regarding government help for those who struggle. Well, if not that, what? If the government doesn't help, who will? We will. To put our money where our mouth is on this issue, we are committing $200 per month to four groups who are providing food and shelter to those who are most in need of it. Links to those organizations are below. We recognize that some people are struggling through no fault of their own. We also recognize that we are no better than anyone else. Finally, we recognize that two hundred dollars is not a lot of money. We pray that it will be multiplied.

http://www.saltlakecitymission.org/

https://www.utahfoodbank.org/home/

http://www.rescuemission.org/

http://www.gracecentersofhope.org/

Stimulus

I don't know if it will work, I really don't. I suppose it might, but there are two things I don't like about it. First, it emphasizes a statist approach rather than a personal initiative approach. That is, "trust the state to take care of you—cradle to grave—every risk mitigated by the government." That is anathema to the bloggers at Knowledge of Rurul Ways. Plus, I don't know that statism has a real track record of success. On the other hand, the voters are tired of suffering losses that they feel can be blamed on global free trade, lax regulation, and fat cat greed, so perhaps full-blown statism is an idea whose time has come. Second, the $800 billion is supposed to reach the "economy" by way of government bureaucracies. The money is being funneled through state and federal agencies as a way to stimulate the private sector. Well, guess what? Government bureaucracies are notoriously ineffecient. Moreover, the bill comes with very tight deadlines. The money is supposed to reach the ground in a matter of days—30, 60, 120 days. Unfortunately, you can't get the paper work finished to buy a federal office chair in 120 days, so I don't know how $800 billion is likely to be distributed in less time than that. In any case, I may be wrong, but I'm not stupid: I read the whole package—407 pages—twice. I won't tell you what I found, but I intend to take advantage of it. Hey, maybe this bill will stimulate personal initiative after all.

Free Fuel

When one's goal is to live a debt-free, cash-only lifestyle . . . and when the car's water pump has just blown up and the family is waiting for your next paycheck, there are two four-letter F-words that bring a certain tingle of warmth to one's cold soul. Yep. Free fuel. Valerie was running an errand today when she noticed a guy from the City trimming trees. She asked what he was going to do with the wood and, when it became apparent that it was simply refuse, she asked him to bring the dump truck around to our place. It is green, it is dirty, and it is box elder. But, I didn't have to find it on the stump and I didn't have to fork it on the truck. When it is cut, split, and cured, it will heat the house as well as . . . well, elm.

The Neighbors

Just two doors north of us is a neighbor who is having more problems with the roof than we are. Valerie has said that she wants to sneak in and use this place for a studio, but I think it is likely to be a hanta-virus infested rat hole. And knowing my affection for rat holes, you know that is saying something. There is also an abandoned shell just to the east of us which is less picturesque but just as empty. I kind of like the derelicts on the block; gives me a homey feeling.

Compost

We are building a compost pile for the coming growing season. The pile is largely composed of leaves, which we have been collecting from the yard between snowstorms. But, we also dump the ashes from the stove on the pile. Leaves will be good for the garden; ashes will be good for the garden; but ashes and leaves together can leave only . . . well, ashes. I dumped the ash bucket this morning, and then we went for a hike. When we got back, the compost pile was burning. It is nice for the compost to generate a little heat, but I don't want it to burn itself up.

Construction Materials

I thought our house was built of brick. But when I tried to scrape away some cracked plaster last night so that I could repair it, I found this. There is a layer of red sand covering a layer of small stones mixed with, I guess, old mortar. What kind of construction is this? Adobe? Home-made concrete? In any case, the glue is gone from it and it acts like the pile of loose sand from which it came.

Sewer Rooter

When Chris the plumber was here celebrating the new year with us, one of the things he found was a tangle of roots in our sewer line. They were having a negative impact on the flushing of solids, so Chris removed them for us. They looked like elm roots to me and, right outside the house, growing against the foundation, was a clump of elms. Today, the snow and ice had melted sufficiently for me to work into the base of the clump with my chainsaw. And look what I found? An outdoor sewer drain with, presumably, an underground connection to our main sewer pipe. The perfect place for roots to find nourishment. Don't let the elm trees grow up against your foundation, damaging your sewer, your roof, and your walls.

Stove Wood

The previous owner left us a nice supply of cut/split aspen for the stove. And we burned through it like the paper from which it is made. We mixed it with about one load of pinyon that we brought with us from Escalante. Since the house is poorly insulated, it takes a lot of heat to keep it warm and we were soon looking for more. Someone had stacked some peices of elm behind the shed and we started cutting and splitting this for the stove. It, like pinyon, has a lot of BTUs, but it is dirty and ashy. When my father-in-law was heating his farm with wood I remember that he liked to say, "I burn one kind of hardwood. It is spelled with three letters and they are not E-L-M!" So, I suppose he'd be ashamed of me if I told him I was burning elm, which I won't. But, as I was loading the elm on the truck to bring around to the back porch, I thought of something an old-timer once said to me back east when I was burning Eastern White Pine in my stove. I had complained about it since it lacked the heat of oak. The old farmer looked at it, looked at the cold, grey, northeastern landscape, and said, "Well, it's better'n burnin' a snow bank."