Here's a link to their website, http://www.backwoodshome.com/, enjoy.
Stephen
Autumn
Tuesday, August 30, 2011
BackWoods Home
I've been reading Backwoods Home for years and years. If you haven't you're missing a great magazine. Do yourself a favor and check it out. I receive no funds for my endorsement, I simply like the magazine.
Here's a link to their website, http://www.backwoodshome.com/, enjoy.
Stephen
Here's a link to their website, http://www.backwoodshome.com/, enjoy.
Stephen
Cool Dreaming and Firewood
I'm ready for cooler weather and the warmth of a wood fire. We're lucky, Sweet Wife and I, as we have two fireplaces in our home. Working fireplaces, not those cheap metal inserts made more for looks than function, but quality brick and mortal 'kick your butt with roasting heat' fireplaces.
One is located in our formal living room and the other in our family room. The family room fireplace is primary. When cool weather hits our area its usually in late October. I have standing orders, from Sweet Wife and Little Bit, when she is in residence, to have a fire laid and ready to light when she arrives home from work. I always follow orders. We burn a lot of wood. Firewood here in North Florida isn't cheap. A good truck load (less the a standard cord) can cost me a couple hundred dollars. Ouch. I'm cheap, well, perhaps frugal is a better description of my spending habits.
So this weekend when I spotted a nicely stacked pile of freshly cut Live Oak on the side of the road, I jumped. I had beat the city yard waste truck, and it was free for the taking.
The wood was the result of a trim job, probably as a safety measure for hurricane Irene. Live Oaks are big. The limb had been cut in rounds, and trust me, they were heavy. Each piece weighed between 60 and 90 pounds, a rough estimate for sure, but close enough. I tried to limit my selections to pieces measuring less the 21 inches, the limit for my Troy Built.
Free firewood is money in my pocket. Times are 'tuff all over, this is evident from my daily blog reads. Seems everyday I read where more and more people are losing their homes and jobs, or know of a neighbor in the same predicament. It's depressing. Many of these bloggers have become my friends. I read their posts and feel helpless. One jumps to mind and I shall not mention his name, he's a proud man, and to ask for help is beyond him. I've veered of course....sorry.
Anyway, back to the firewood. I loaded six or seven rounds (doctor's visit imminent) took it home and prepped for splitting the wood down to usable sections. Guess what...darn things were so heavy and green my log splitter wasn't up to the task. It'll season and I'll try again. Did get one to pop, Little Bit cheered.
Stephen
One is located in our formal living room and the other in our family room. The family room fireplace is primary. When cool weather hits our area its usually in late October. I have standing orders, from Sweet Wife and Little Bit, when she is in residence, to have a fire laid and ready to light when she arrives home from work. I always follow orders. We burn a lot of wood. Firewood here in North Florida isn't cheap. A good truck load (less the a standard cord) can cost me a couple hundred dollars. Ouch. I'm cheap, well, perhaps frugal is a better description of my spending habits.
So this weekend when I spotted a nicely stacked pile of freshly cut Live Oak on the side of the road, I jumped. I had beat the city yard waste truck, and it was free for the taking.
The wood was the result of a trim job, probably as a safety measure for hurricane Irene. Live Oaks are big. The limb had been cut in rounds, and trust me, they were heavy. Each piece weighed between 60 and 90 pounds, a rough estimate for sure, but close enough. I tried to limit my selections to pieces measuring less the 21 inches, the limit for my Troy Built.
Free firewood is money in my pocket. Times are 'tuff all over, this is evident from my daily blog reads. Seems everyday I read where more and more people are losing their homes and jobs, or know of a neighbor in the same predicament. It's depressing. Many of these bloggers have become my friends. I read their posts and feel helpless. One jumps to mind and I shall not mention his name, he's a proud man, and to ask for help is beyond him. I've veered of course....sorry.
Anyway, back to the firewood. I loaded six or seven rounds (doctor's visit imminent) took it home and prepped for splitting the wood down to usable sections. Guess what...darn things were so heavy and green my log splitter wasn't up to the task. It'll season and I'll try again. Did get one to pop, Little Bit cheered.
Take what you can folks. There are terrible times ahead. Swallow your pride, too. Friends help friends.
Do you hear me, my friend.
Stephen
Monday, August 29, 2011
The Great Salvation Army Raid
I was party to a fascinating sight yesterday.
My morning began with a trip to my son's home where Sweet Wife and me helped our son and daughter-in-law with a few minor home repairs. No big deal. I spent much of that time outside in temperatures which were well above 100 degrees....I was nothing less than a sweat rag.
On our return trip Sweet Wife and Little Bit (she came along for the afternoon) ordered me to stop at the local Diary Queen. I said no, I'm wet and want to go home. While sitting in the Dairy Queen parking lot, which is located in front of a Salvation Army store, I noticed a car drive by several times, park as the engine idled, then peel out and come to a quick stop at the donation trailer. The driver then quick like a fox jumped from his car, snatched a garbage bag bundle, threw it into his car and drive away. Weird, said I.
Until I noticed another truck do much the same. My camera came out. In the span of less than ten minutes I counted no less than twenty cars and truck jokey for position at the donation pile. This pile was huge. The thieves whittled that sucker down to nothing while I waited on my milkshake. One man, in a green stripped shirt, made six runs on the loot. Some cars would wait six to ten yards away while another man or woman had their turn at the donations.
Only two cars, as I waited, actually dropped off donations; one at the curb, the other at the pile stacked at the foot of the trailer. The thieves had the loot in their vehicles before the donors even had a chance to drive away. Folks, it was fascinating to watch.
Above, democritter drives away with his loot as another takes his place at the pile. The flea market awaits.
Green shirt man's second or third trip to the booty pile. This is a Sunday, the store is closed.
The truck parked next the door of the building is a donor. Seconds after I snapped this picture, the smaller white truck moved in and grabbed the pile. My wife later said she thought perhaps these poor people were taking items for their family. I argued the selections of the criminals, the speed of the snatch, indiscriminate and blindly loaded objects, was nothing more than looting for the purpose of resell.
Granted, we all suffer from this mini-depression. I should not pass judgement. Perhaps these donations, even though placed after hours before the donation trailer, should be considered discards and labeled public domain, free for the taking. Yet, these people used stealth and were quickly in and out, which indicates to me they were guilty of their actions. You tell me.
Still, I laughed, and I've learned a valuable lesson. Always donate when the store is open for business.
Footnote: this morning I passed this same establishment and all, all, of the pile has disappeared. The store had yet to open.
Stephen
My morning began with a trip to my son's home where Sweet Wife and me helped our son and daughter-in-law with a few minor home repairs. No big deal. I spent much of that time outside in temperatures which were well above 100 degrees....I was nothing less than a sweat rag.
On our return trip Sweet Wife and Little Bit (she came along for the afternoon) ordered me to stop at the local Diary Queen. I said no, I'm wet and want to go home. While sitting in the Dairy Queen parking lot, which is located in front of a Salvation Army store, I noticed a car drive by several times, park as the engine idled, then peel out and come to a quick stop at the donation trailer. The driver then quick like a fox jumped from his car, snatched a garbage bag bundle, threw it into his car and drive away. Weird, said I.
Until I noticed another truck do much the same. My camera came out. In the span of less than ten minutes I counted no less than twenty cars and truck jokey for position at the donation pile. This pile was huge. The thieves whittled that sucker down to nothing while I waited on my milkshake. One man, in a green stripped shirt, made six runs on the loot. Some cars would wait six to ten yards away while another man or woman had their turn at the donations.
Only two cars, as I waited, actually dropped off donations; one at the curb, the other at the pile stacked at the foot of the trailer. The thieves had the loot in their vehicles before the donors even had a chance to drive away. Folks, it was fascinating to watch.
Green shirt man's second or third trip to the booty pile. This is a Sunday, the store is closed.
Granted, we all suffer from this mini-depression. I should not pass judgement. Perhaps these donations, even though placed after hours before the donation trailer, should be considered discards and labeled public domain, free for the taking. Yet, these people used stealth and were quickly in and out, which indicates to me they were guilty of their actions. You tell me.
Still, I laughed, and I've learned a valuable lesson. Always donate when the store is open for business.
Footnote: this morning I passed this same establishment and all, all, of the pile has disappeared. The store had yet to open.
Stephen
Thank You and Welcome
Thank you and welcome to my new followers, Jatico, Duke, Lamb and 45er. Nice to have you on board.
As always when I welcome new followers to my humble little blog I promise to always reply individually to all comments. It might take a few hours or in some rare cases, days, but I shall respond.
Again, thanks and welcome.
Stephen
As always when I welcome new followers to my humble little blog I promise to always reply individually to all comments. It might take a few hours or in some rare cases, days, but I shall respond.
Again, thanks and welcome.
Stephen
As Arnold Said, I'll Be Back
My friends, I will be back. Life has me on the run. Please be patient. Visit some of the excellent writers listed under my blogroll, they're good people.
Hopefully later today I will have a chance to blog.
Until then, Little Bit says, "Hello."
Stephen
Hopefully later today I will have a chance to blog.
Until then, Little Bit says, "Hello."
Stephen
Saturday, August 27, 2011
Foxfire, The Series
Many years ago while in the service I had a few days of earned leave and decided to hit the airport and spend some time with my father. On my rare visits to my dad's home I knew I could always kick back with a few good reads; my dad is a book junkie.
He's a good 'ole country boy, once wore a badge, retired to a farm where he took up the easy life of cattle and horses and various other farm critters. After he purchased his acreage he took two old double-wide mobile homes, had them attached, and converted the suckers into one huge gun and reloading factory. Much of the interior was devoted to book shelves. I think he still has a picture in the shop of me and my younger brother standing proud as he received his black belt in judo. When the photo was snapped I was skinny and tall, my grandfather called me a beanpole, but I was cute too.....
Anyway, it was one of those rare visits where I walked into his home to find a new book he'd just purchased titled, Foxfire. Shook my father's hand, went to a room and finished the book overnight. This was in the late 1960's or perhaps early 1970. Can't remember. The first three of the set of ten or so volumes birthed my survivalist library, a collection that exceeds my ability to catalog, much less count.
I haven't the time this morning (yes, I'm at work) to describe and praise the glory of these fine folklore volumes. So Google 'em, please. (Mudbug, notice my usage of the word, please) If you are a survivalist (or, for pete's sake, a prepper) you should own them.
A couple of days ago my friend John found this set at a garage sale for a buck. A boxed set of the first three volumes...darn good deal. Cannot understand why he refused my offer of a dollar and ten cents, greedy old coot.
My friends, have a safe weekend. Keep your powder dry.
Stephen
He's a good 'ole country boy, once wore a badge, retired to a farm where he took up the easy life of cattle and horses and various other farm critters. After he purchased his acreage he took two old double-wide mobile homes, had them attached, and converted the suckers into one huge gun and reloading factory. Much of the interior was devoted to book shelves. I think he still has a picture in the shop of me and my younger brother standing proud as he received his black belt in judo. When the photo was snapped I was skinny and tall, my grandfather called me a beanpole, but I was cute too.....
Anyway, it was one of those rare visits where I walked into his home to find a new book he'd just purchased titled, Foxfire. Shook my father's hand, went to a room and finished the book overnight. This was in the late 1960's or perhaps early 1970. Can't remember. The first three of the set of ten or so volumes birthed my survivalist library, a collection that exceeds my ability to catalog, much less count.
I haven't the time this morning (yes, I'm at work) to describe and praise the glory of these fine folklore volumes. So Google 'em, please. (Mudbug, notice my usage of the word, please) If you are a survivalist (or, for pete's sake, a prepper) you should own them.
A couple of days ago my friend John found this set at a garage sale for a buck. A boxed set of the first three volumes...darn good deal. Cannot understand why he refused my offer of a dollar and ten cents, greedy old coot.
 |
My friends, have a safe weekend. Keep your powder dry.
Stephen
Friday, August 26, 2011
My Friend Duke
My friends I'd like to introduce all of you to my friend, Duke. He's a personal friend of mine, lives in my city, we shoot together, and is an all around nice guy. He's veteran, like many of us, and I'm sure has many stories to share.
Please, drop by and say hello and tell him Stephen sent you. Another gunny is always nice to have on our sidebars. Please, give him a boost and click his 'follower' button.
Thank you.
http://downrangereport.blogspot.com/, again, thanks.
Stephen
Please, drop by and say hello and tell him Stephen sent you. Another gunny is always nice to have on our sidebars. Please, give him a boost and click his 'follower' button.
Thank you.
http://downrangereport.blogspot.com/, again, thanks.
Stephen
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