Our Retirement Dream Fulfilled

alllivesmatter said:

Why would you move on with 2500 or more viewers?

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I saw the views, but considered them just passing curiosities

Wasn't so sure about the 'likes'

I'll continue on for a bit

Thanks for the input

timothyu said:

You are doing fine. It is the viewers who have a problem enjoying anything they can't argue against.

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HA!!!

Tim, yer a jewel

Whatever I post is open for argument or discussion

I'll continue on in a bit

Thanks, brother, for the laugh

Continuing on;

Yes, we had an outhouse





No, we didn't dig a hole
Used a 5 gal bucket

It sat quite nice





Something I writ a year or so into living at the cabin;


Tedious things

or

What we do with you know what;


This is what I learned from a guy down the path that had been composting his family of five's 'stuff' for six years.

Build a bin

Approx four feet cubed

Posts in the corners and 3-4 inch wide by half inch thick boards

2-3 inch spacing

Initially leave one side open with one or two boards at the bottom.

Start with a generous layer of pine needles or the like.
A layer of straw on top of that does not hurt.

Empty your pail of you know what, including TP, and well...pee.
(no wipes, won't break down)
Pine needles and straw on top of that, about 2-3 inches.

Add boards as needed.

If you experience an odor, add more straw and needles.
(if you experience an odor after saaay a foot of pine needles and straw, change your dining habits or see a doctor)

Once the bin is full, proceed to the next bin and start the process anew.

Let the first bin 'rest' for 12 months.

Happy birthday, you now have compost.


Somebody told me to never mix in the urine, or I’ll learn the hard way


About the urine;

This 'compost' will not go into our garden.
Bushes, shrubs, maybe trees, if anything.
My intent is to just break down the 'stuff'.
So, the explanation of 'learning the hard way' prolly doesn't apply in our case.

I'm just getting somewhat weary of spending a goodly portion of whatever is left of my precious time here on irth boiling poopoo.
At first it was fascinating.
The lighting ceremony.
Stirring the caldron.
Tossing on more...and more.....and more fuel.
Not sure when tedium recognition took place, but, by end of winter the allure had transmuted to some kinda sordid monotony.

This led me to the quick and easy aspect of composting.

But

to extract urine from the other stuff, or to somehow divert the stream 'tween urges?
Not bloody likely.

Then again, if we were to be so bold as to use our loo-made urineized compost in our veggie garden after a year of resting, well, those fine neighbors down the path have been doing it for years now and they seem normal.....good color, no hair loss, good muscle tone....minimal itching....

But, like most aspects of living off grid, the very real things, procedures of day to day life, get rather nitty gritty.
None of it can be diverted or in some cases postponed.
This ain't Disney out here.
Even the simple task of bathing can be an adventure, especially in winter.

Back on topic;
I've never been a member of the white toilet bowl society, nor a proponent of the decorative hand towel display.
The one so ornate one is given to wiping their hands on their pants or flapping them dry to avert messing up the obvious feng shui of accoutremental aura.

Thing is, most of us, when on city water, never give where things go a second thought.
The only concern is when the water keeps running after flushing, causing your water bill to compete with your electric.
It's either accepting the fact that you must train all family members how to successfully jiggle the handle, busying yourself by looking at your facial flaws in the mirror until the water does in fact quit running, or just standing there, staring at the swirling eddy in the bowl, daring it to keep running,
or,
eventually lifting the tank lid, reaching into that mystical area and fixing the darn thing, feeling a bit heroic, showing everyone that you, you are the master of the house, you got this.

But,

When the outhouse becomes the facility, whatever you ingested just hours ago eventually becomes an ever present, heaping menace.
And the question looms, what on earth do we do with this, this festering mound of blind eels?

Having mastered cleansing these aging vessels of ours, and maintaining a controlled command of the laundry, especially thru the winter months, we are on task to turn these flourishing keester cakes into a form of harmless humus, of which we can merrily cast forth, back to muther irth...where it belongs.

Seems our society has taken the unglamorous facets of living and, for the most part, hidden them.
I mean how many of us (sans septic tanks) know where sewage goes?
Oh sure, we see the treatment plants, and have read about how everything gets converted to biodegradable glop,
but what about the really horrible stuff?
I do believe it's good...'xcuse me, necessary to git yer hands in it, see it, learn how to give it back to muther irth in a relative form of whence it came.
Same with garbage, another topic, but the same thing.
Some societies have no garbage, yet we (most of us) feel just fine about putting anything undesirable in a can because once a week a large noisy truck makes it all disappear.

I have too simple (lazy) of a mind to get into all this, but even us simple guys can take heed and comply with the nature...natural process of things.

Fresh notes on this;

Winter 2017

It snows here, lots

The compost bin is many paces from the cabin

I chose to devote my snow trekking energy to drawing water....many paces from the cabin.


So,

Back to burning

What I came to learn last winter was it takes considerable time to tend the barrel.

As much fun as churning the cauldron seems, it’s not one of my favorite pastimes.

This, our second year, I stayed on top of everything.
Water
Wood
Propane
Gas
Diesel
Food
Small building supplies, nails, screws, brackets
All stocked
All the time
No surprises
Winter has its own surprises, so it’s best to keep the odds of getting in a bind to a minimum.
Give yerself a running chance.

I incorporated poopail duty into my aggressive maintenance schedule.

Turns out, less burns quicker.

Every other day is around a quarter pail of moist paper, pine needles at the bottom, and eight meals worth of mud bunnies.

We gathered four pails of pine needles back in the fall.
Best ever at layering the bucket.
Much much better than sawdust.
Worried four pails wouldn’t be enough.
We have two pails left, and it’s, what, March?

Anyway, I’ll twist the old ashes with a farmer’s fork,
pour a cup of diesel/gas/used oil mix
fetch the bucket
dump it in the barrel
(temps at 0°F and below require the tapping of a hammer near the bottom of a tipped bucket)
twist that a bit with the fork
or, at low temps, poke heck outa it with the farmer’s fork
pour a generous amount of the volatile cocktail (2-3 cups…a tin can’s worth)
twist a sheet of newspaper, soak the end
light it
flick it into the barrel
run light heck, screaming FIRE! FIRE!
Jus’ kidding
Put the screen on
And go about yer other business for 20 minutes

Note;
If, for some reason, the barrel does not go ‘whoooosh!’
Do NOT! hang yer face over it to determine the matter
(...another thing I came to learn)
Jus’ do the pour, paper routine again
Best to treat the barrel like poking a cornered puma during this procedure.

Synopsis;
It takes around an hour to reduce raw alley apples into powder of grey poupon
when tending ever 20 minutes

Bon marché

Somebody in another forum told me they expect the best in everything

I challenged them a bit then moved on


I don't expect anything

I do plan, however

Living in the mountains taught me many things

Out there, wind, fire, large beasts of prey, ice, snow, trees falling, errant chain saws, renegades, can happen

One prepares
Prepares to increase the odds in defraying calamity

No wringing of hands
Worry is the bastard child of concern
Wasted energy
Things happen, because they just do

'God's will'?

He's let us use our will to really mess things up

This planet is pretty much toast

but

He gives us a glimpse of how it should be

...and a view of better things to come

I savor each moment I'm topside

And stop to take in, not what we could lose, but what we have


Yesterday was a lesson


Today is opportunity to apply that lesson

joyshirley said:

I have enjoyed every post you have written here and, in fact, your posts have encouraged me to keep going with one or two things that need doing here in the garden. I've been quite busy with family and work round our place - time well spent - but have been looking forward to catching up with your latest posts. Inspiring stuff, so know you and your little saga are greatly appreciated

Click to expand...

Well, if that ain't inspirational, nothing is

Thank you, Joy

I'll be more attentive to this growing thread

Notes from a late summer day;

Weeks of smoky skies (wild fire season)
Getting rather used to it



The morning sun is playing along



My daily routine of drawing water from the well became not so routine yesterday evening

For three years, I’ve started the genny, plugged ‘er to the pump....water, cold, crystal clear water, streaming

Yesterday evening I strolled to the well to draw a couple jugs for the night
Started the genny
Nothing
Tried again
Nothing
Three more times
Nothing

Unplugged the genny
Started her up
Plugged her in
Water
Glorious gushing water

‘Twas a wakeup call
Things can happen to mess with yer day
This time the plug just wasn’t fully in the socket

But this being August, and no rain for weeks, well, my mind went places other than a kicked plug

My usual prayer of thanks was a bit more earnest

Notes from late July, third year at the cabin;

This time of the season, I get complacent

There’s no rush to do chores
No need to keep things topped off
No need to do…..anything

Still

I push myself

Several projects, but none needful
Always chores, but none pressing

Heh, don’t know what I’d do in town
Golf, maybe
Fish, maybe
Or….nothing
I’d go nuts

Out here, it don’t matter whether yer nuts or not
Actually, I’d blend in better
There’s some real kooks out this way

The wonderful thing is, they’re standoffish
I’m leaning that direction

.....I may already be nuts



Reminds me of the movie Papillion when Steve McQueen stuck his head out his cell door and asked the guy next to him how he looked

Anyway, it’s a nice moon tonight



Think I’ll step out and howl at it

...give the 'yotes sumpm to think about

heh heh

My little aged fellow

I like to imagine he’s the grandad of his tribe
An elder

He can be seen most mornings, basking in the first rays of ‘ol sol


Seems to be deep in thought

Maybe about the day ahead
Maybe about the events of yesterday
Maybe about his clan
Maybe just how good it feels to enjoy the warmth on his face of this crisp morn

Maybe absolutely nothing
His little Zen moment, possibly

Wish I could offer him coffee
Doesn’t look like he needs it
Nothing moves, save a paw, for several minutes



He’s taught me to appreciate
To observe
To feel

And, yet to sense a presence….me


These critters of the woods can impart lessons
…..if you share their dawn moment


So sorry to disturb the quiescent repose, my little wizened friend

Hope you have a nice day

You’ve already made mine

A noted event back a ways, before the move to the cabin

August 2014

The main event, the one that was our main purpose of this trip, the putting on of the roof, was somewhat of an adventure all by itself.

Wednesday morning clouds formed.

Ah.

Not gonna be so hot.

Nice.

Mosey.

Tear off sagging roof tarp.

Gaze, with frozen stupification, at waterfall from sagging tarp gush directly onto bed, camera, pistol, and other important things, like me.
Haul tools and organize things while my lady swabs out bedroom cabin and hangs things out to dry.

Mosey.

Rest from mosey.

Work, grunt, work.

Rest.

Sip coffee.

Ponder next thing to do and how to do it.

Get the 2x6s three fourths on and suddenly realize my arm, hand and thumb are no longer functioning, deciding instead to compete with my back for spasm count.

Rest.

Sip coffee.

Ponder.

Watch strange birds.

Go 'Whazzat?' several times in repetition.

Consider nap.

Tell each other to slow down, 'we've got three days'.

Plop on the bed.

Rain happens.

Rather suddenly.

Lots and lots of rain.

We discover 2x6s, tightly nailed, leak like sieves.
We gaze at the tarp shreds now on the ground.

We commence to mutually scream out pointed nouns and adjectives;

'THE (censored) BED!'

'THE (censored) FLOOR!'

'CENSORED CENSORED CENSORED!!!'

....all the while waving our arms in the air, running to and fro, banging into each other like berserk windup toys.

Eventually, I scurry up and down the ladder, with the agility of a wounded rhinoceros, throwing tarp shreds and OSB scraps onto the roof.
Ever see a wounded rhinoceros scurry up and down a ladder?
I-I-I-I think not.

It's not pretty.

By the time I ran outta crap to throw on the roof, it's done raining.....for the week, it turns out.

It's now close to 8pm.
I have no idea it will never ever ever rain again.
I just want to sleep in a bed....a dry bed....from the dry bedding from the main cabin.

An old fat man pulled up his trousers and tore all the wood scraps and tarp rags back off and doggedly finished the sub roof...including the tar paper.....then drove 20 miles for a new tarp.

Tired?

I hadn't known that kinda tired since....well....I don't know.

My back spasms had spasms.

Ever OD on naproxen?
I only took two, before bed.
Only I couldn't lie down.
Too much pressure in the chest.
I actually couldn't move.
Considered the possibility of having a heart attack, and death.
Started welcoming the possibility of death.
I could feel my lady's quiet concern, momentarily asking pertinent questions like, does your left arm hurt?
Why are you sweating?
After a lengthy Q&A, she handed me two Tums.

Bingo.
I'm ready to put on the roll roofing.

Thursday and Friday we did menial things and took lots of moments to enjoy our little patch of pumice.

Life is good.

Horrifically good.

Next trip; the siding, roll roofing, and other stuff.

Making the French doors.

Subtle suggestion; DO NOT MAKE FRENCH DOORS!!!!

Seemed like a simple enough project.......heh heh heh.

For, oh, say 60 of the 65 years I've been in existence, I've whittled/butchered/cobbled/hewn/chopped/gouged/disfigured and outright mutilated wood.

I tend to turn most my projects into timed weekend warrior events.
These races typically start when I pull in the drive Friday afternoon and end late Sunday evening...prone, weeping, cutting myself.
I figger that's why there are five week days.
Convalescence.
On any given Saturday morning, at 3AM, I can be found stumbling around, holding a 17th cup of coffee in my quavering hand, looking for.....something....oh, yeah, my try square......oh well, I'll jus zip a shade off the ol' edge.
......well, crap.
Oh, heeeeere's my try square.
No worries, Home Dopey opens in three hours.
Think I'll make another pot of coffee.

Note to readers; if one maintains hurry mode, one can gain much experience in repair mode, which comes directly after scurry mode, but only after the [bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse][bless and do not curse]!!? (discovery) and wailing modes.
But I do love French doors, and my imagination puts me and my lady waking up every morning to a glorious forested vista, with shards of sun rays beaming into the cabin.

So here I am, slogging away.

I even drew up some specs to keep my thought processes in line (see detailed plans).



Some pics;





I had the brilliant idea to double pane
Finish carpenters double pane
Wood butchers best stick to single pane
My double pane effort immediately fogged up

I consoled myself with the thought that a small cabin with a wood stove should not be air tight anyway

timothyu said:

But makes for beautiful frost patterns come winter.

Click to expand...

If you'd had told me that at the time, I prolly woulda kept the double panes.

Heh.....'in winter'

That was the time of year one could get outa bed, stroll over, open the French doors, and pull a frosty cool one outa the snow bank

Pardon the unfinished pic



The snow bank 'tween cabins grew by the day

More notes from early on;

July 2014

We arrived at the cabin around 9pm last Tuesday.
Usually we get out, walk the cabin area, looking for signs of break in, or wildlife events.
Usually we go; LOOK! What's this?!...discovering later that they are our own tracks from last time.
This time my lady made a beeline to the poophaus.
Considerable coffee intake on the way down was more than ready to outgo.

Note;
I built our loo in the strict style of the (I really don't know what to do here) ancient culture of early ignoramusism, religiously adhering to the 'I've gotta poop now' method.
One of the unique features is having to insert and outsert a board from the back of our facility in order to cover and uncover the 5 gal poopail. (I changed this design after the first real snow...and ice)

In my lady's scurry to the back of our poophaus to remove the board, she suddenly got real quiet, trying, in the dark, to focus on and fathom what her mind was trying to explain to her.

'Gar, come here....quick!'

'What?'

'JUST....COME.....!......'NOWWWWW!'

My mind registered that my dear woman of 45 years, mother of my children, grandmother of my grandchildren, might be in trouble, and most definitely is facing down some sorta wild animal, most likely a hungry puma (of which, by the way, would make a really cool name of a rock band...'The Hungry Pumas').....

.....where was I......ah, yes....screaming woman.


I immediately went into rapid dawdle, tearing myself away from staring at the load in the pickup, breaking into a speedy saunter.
I mean since its obviously a large heaving drooling ravenous wild mountain lion, why confuse everyone by rushing in and suddenly becoming the other white meat?
(this tactic learned from many years of astute survivalist training)

As I came around the cabin, here is what I saw, that my lady was trying to explain to me in great detail (in as few stunned, stupefied words as possible);




A blow over
A rather large one

If it had gone 90° left...no more cabin



Of coarse I had to pose




Heh
Boy, we were a couple real porkers back then
First year at the cabin took away 65 lbs of whale blubber

Here's my lady, standing where that dead fall was, after living at the cabin for a year, and chopping wood right along side me;