Ever since I started this blog at the end of last August, I’ve feared a day like this.
Normally, I write my blog posts in the morning. Usually, there’s something on my mind, some aspect of homestead life that might be of interest to someone. Wednesday morning, after giving it some serious thought, I gave up. Nothing seemed to be happening.
It promised to be a dry day, so I grabbed a saw and a backboard and headed up the trail toward a couple of small dead falls. I cut the larger one into three long logs and a couple of stove rounds, and packed them down the hill. I threw the logs onto the saw buck and cut them to stove lengths, then split them. Even though they seemed fairly dry, I hauled them down to the beach and stacked them in the sun; the good southerly would dry them more quickly.
As I chopped, I realized that the wood I’d stacked behind the chopping block is too close. It’s not dry yet, so I hauled most of it down to the beach as well.
Processing the tree took me into the early afternoon. I also cut up some branches that we’d gathered for shower wood, and chopped a couple of handfuls of kindling.
I remembered that the outhouse bucket needed changing, so I took care of that. In the process, I noticed a deposit of spruce needles and other forest floor litter accumulated near the base of the trail. We had four emptied duff buckets lined up beside the outhouse, so I grabbed a shovel, and soon had them filled and restowed.
While I worked on my projects, Michelle sifted soil in the garden, and planted sea stars in the potato bed. She then covered the rows with plastic, to warm the soil and hopefully keep the smell from attracting visitors. Aly tended her current experiment: she’s collecting birch sap. She then studied for her upcoming ACT test this weekend. Through it all, each of us kept an eye on the weather (snow arrived around 3:00 a.m. that night, prompting a tarping session on the beach in pajamas). We also watch and listen for signs of whales, sea lions, and other sea creatures.
Eventually, we regrouped at the cabin. We had time to read a bit before making dinner. We watched a movie afterward. I still had a blog post to write, but at the end of the day, nothing had really happened.
When Michelle ran a daycare, she used to talk about emergent curriculum. We seem to have developed emergent occupation. Whatever it’s called, even when there’s nothing going on, something’s going on.
I figure I can only use this once. Okay, maybe twice—watch for the sequel: Nothing Happened Today, Either, coming soon to a blog near you!