May 2
National Weather Service predicts a late spring storm tonight. Storms can blow in quickly here, but right now it’s clear and sunny. Despite the cold spring, we haven't had any snow in weeks. The brown earth stretches out all the way to the hills in the west, dotted now with the early growth of rabbit brush and greasewood. The purple mustard has bloomed, the yellow mustard hasn't yet made its appearance. Perhaps it's been delayed by the chilly nights. This morning puffy, white cumulus clouds pass overhead, contrasting with the deep blue of the sky behind them. A steady breeze blows out of the south, and the wind turbine spins merrily. The goats climb on a pile of firewood I brought down off the mountain before the snow fell last fall; they pick through the dead limbs seeking the freshest pine needles to snack on.
Despite the pleasant weather, I heeded the weather report: this morning I brought wood in for the stove and gassed up the four wheel drive. Sarah went into town for groceries and feed. We’re in good shape now, just in case. It’s probably unnecessary, but we do prepare for the major storms. Living as we do down two miles of dirt road, it pays to be safe. From time to time, we get stranded by the weather, either snow or mud, and spend several days left to our own devices. It’s odd to think that we’re far enough out that weather can isolate us from the rest of the world—no mail, no groceries, and yet our cell phones and internet keep us in communication. We can, however, walk to our neighbor’s house if we should need to. Half a mile is close enough except in the worst weather. My neighbor, Steve, is a Mormon. He and his wife, Phyllis, go to church every Sunday, and he’s got a full year of food in his basement. We aren’t close, but we chat from time to time—and if ever Sarah or I needed anything, Steve and Phyllis would be there. He’s been known to plow our road at the same time he plows his own. I thank him for it later, and he just looks embarrassed. I do what I can to reciprocate: I’ll drop off a dozen eggs now and then, or some home-made cheese. Sometimes when Sarah makes bread, she’ll make extra and bring them a loaf. This morning, Steve was working in the yard as I drove past, so I stopped and said hi. “It’s quite some world we’re living in,” I observed, once we’d exchanged pleasantries. “It is,” he agreed. “But I don’t worry too much. I think God has a plan.” “But you’ve got a cellar full of food, too,” I said. He grinned. “There’s an old Arab saying,” he told me. “Trust in Allah, but tie your camel’s leg.” I thought about that as I drove into town to get the mail. I guess it’s the equivalent of “Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.” Sarah and I still have stocks and bonds, even though the market hasn’t done well lately. We also keep a couple of hundred bucks in cash around the house, just in case. But I wonder whether we should prepare a little better, and maybe keep some gold and extra food and ammo. I plan to talk to Sarah about that when she gets home.
Despite the pleasant weather, I heeded the weather report: this morning I brought wood in for the stove and gassed up the four wheel drive. Sarah went into town for groceries and feed. We’re in good shape now, just in case. It’s probably unnecessary, but we do prepare for the major storms. Living as we do down two miles of dirt road, it pays to be safe. From time to time, we get stranded by the weather, either snow or mud, and spend several days left to our own devices. It’s odd to think that we’re far enough out that weather can isolate us from the rest of the world—no mail, no groceries, and yet our cell phones and internet keep us in communication. We can, however, walk to our neighbor’s house if we should need to. Half a mile is close enough except in the worst weather. My neighbor, Steve, is a Mormon. He and his wife, Phyllis, go to church every Sunday, and he’s got a full year of food in his basement. We aren’t close, but we chat from time to time—and if ever Sarah or I needed anything, Steve and Phyllis would be there. He’s been known to plow our road at the same time he plows his own. I thank him for it later, and he just looks embarrassed. I do what I can to reciprocate: I’ll drop off a dozen eggs now and then, or some home-made cheese. Sometimes when Sarah makes bread, she’ll make extra and bring them a loaf. This morning, Steve was working in the yard as I drove past, so I stopped and said hi. “It’s quite some world we’re living in,” I observed, once we’d exchanged pleasantries. “It is,” he agreed. “But I don’t worry too much. I think God has a plan.” “But you’ve got a cellar full of food, too,” I said. He grinned. “There’s an old Arab saying,” he told me. “Trust in Allah, but tie your camel’s leg.” I thought about that as I drove into town to get the mail. I guess it’s the equivalent of “Expect the best, but prepare for the worst.” Sarah and I still have stocks and bonds, even though the market hasn’t done well lately. We also keep a couple of hundred bucks in cash around the house, just in case. But I wonder whether we should prepare a little better, and maybe keep some gold and extra food and ammo. I plan to talk to Sarah about that when she gets home.
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