A flicker of motion outside the window catches the eye, a bird larger than the usual. I grabbed for my camera which has been largely ignored this week because of all the snow shoveling. But before I could even get a lens on, the bird took off, staying only long enough for me to identify it as a merlin, a discouraged merlin because he couldn't follow the small birds into the thicket of birch branches. From the silhouette etched in my brain and the color I made the identification from the Birds of Alaska guide. That observation was worth firing up the generator so I could get a good cellular signal and add the merlin to yesterday's post about chickadees and thick branches.
A look out another window told me what I was supposed to do today. All week things had to be shoveled off, trails snowshoed and packed down. Snowmachne stuck twice, the roof. Today I could finally get back to the main chore, firewood.
But first, of course I had to dig out the snow covering the sections near the house waiting to be split. No pressure though, so I worked at a leisurely pace and in short time had most of it uncovered and the splitting began. Working under the feeder I could hear chickadees' wingbeats as they flew to and from it. Before I stopped for a break I had taken two sledloads of split wood back under the house to be stacked later.
About that time I focused on the large black storage container on the porch. My friend whom I helped after tweakers just about destroyed her rental home had bought it for me as a thank you. For all the time I have spent at the East Pole I have thought I should have some kind of safety net. If this cabin were ever to catch fire, there is no fire department to call and no ready source of pressurized water. I always thought the smart thing to do in case I had to bail out in a hurry was keep a survival kit outside the house somewhere, something full of gear that could help me survive for at least a couple of days if the worst should happen and that was what I planned to use this container for. The problem is it sat on the deck since December, largely ignored except for a place to store stuff. So today I started thinking about that and pulled it indoors to fill. I have a container with 20 days worth of survival foods coming. I had to make a list of stuff to buy and stuff to bring from the other house. So far I have a one-burner Coleman stove, matches, a sleeping bag, a knife and a multitool like a Swiss Army knife. To-buy list just started includes an ax and a small shovel, a spare snowmachine key. Up in the loft here to bring down is a tent and a pair of short snowshoes. I will also sort through clothing here and make sure I have a change of clothes that includes several layers and boots. In the process of looking through stuff I discovered I own five corkscrews. What was I thinking? (Suggestions are welcome.)
That got me to lunch and a short horizonal rest and then back out to the wood pile, but with all this machinating in my mind it felt proper to take another break and write it down. So that's the day so far. Back to the wood pile. Oh, yes, I put the box of Franzia's finest blush chablis outside to chill. It feels like that kind of day. One big stump to split then more digging and stacking. BRB
One other considertion. Despite the lack of mountain, and bright sunlight, it's a most beautiful day here. Deep undisturbed snow covers the ground and huge globs of it cling to branches in all the trees waiting to drop on some unsuspecting traveler. Meanwhile melting snow is drippping off what remains of the snow on the roof making icicles that soon will be stout enough for the chickadees to cling to and drink from.
As the afternoon ages, whiskers of cloud grow across the sky. In the end four sled loads of firewood under the house and the next group released from its snowy den.
Then the daylight part of this one culminates in a comfortable chair on the deck, bright sunlight for a time but not long enough to send the thermometer past 58 degrees. A glass of wine, a playlist of love songs on the iPad/iHome system: "Suite Judy Blue Eyes," perfect, we dreamed of a life like this. Sitting back, listening relaxing, the memories will come with the second glass of wine. "once upon a time I was falling in love, now I'm only falling apart." A total eclipse, except, NOT. Turn around. Forever's going to start tonight.
And then there's that happy moment of lucidity and you are glad to be alone and can only hope no one can hear you in the deep woods as you step out onto the deck, driven by iPhone and earbuds and absolutely sure you hit the high note in Unchained Melody at the top of your lungs.
It's been that kind of day.
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