one last warm day, the estate, a mishap and no more PO
So, after driving 670 miles north to Utah, this is what I got for it. Heading north in February, kinda expected it.
And yes, we were both up ladders sweeping off our solar panels.
I set up out in the canyon rims area south of Moab for a day before continuing on the the Mason Martini Estate. A week later, I took the previous photo.
Deb has 80 acres of range/grazing property, three miles from a boat launch on the Colorado. She has quite a setup. Hauls in water, power comes from solar panels, constructing a geothermal greenhouse, has a compost pile going, burns paper and cardboard, will soon be constructing a cold frame garden, takes care of her immediate acres and practices no harm. She is extremely handy and self-sufficient. Deb researches all aspects of her off-the-grid homestead before incorporating what she learns. Very smart lady. Ya done good, girl.
I’m enjoying our day to day interactions, laughs, conversations. Looking forward to warmer temps so we can sit outside as we did last winter for our 3:30 wine and conversation.
I drove out with Deb a couple times while she fed alfalfa to some free roaming horses. She calls it her peaceful time. I felt the same way. Standing among a few horses, feeding and brushing them is truly peaceful. A most enjoyable quiet time.
Friends in Moab have a cold frame box garden. As you can see, their method works very well and has been in use for quite a few years. Pretty good for February and no greenhouse.
One afternoon before heading north, Mesa came tearing out of the M&M/storage room, ran to the back, up onto a settee cushion, across the table, over the closed laptop, down onto the opposite cushion, back across the floor and up onto the bed. No big thing, sometimes he gets hyper. This time however, was somewhat different. He was spewing vomit the entire time, even sprayed a section of wall. Not normal. He never slowed down. I was thinking he must be awfully scared about what was happening in his body, poor guy. Maybe it was a reaction to one of the three shots he got at the vet, the day before. Then he wanted to go out. Wait, you’re not cleaning this up? No, that’s what you’re for. Let me out.
View out my back window of the La Sal mountains to the south.
I feed Meadow and Mesa Kit & Kaboodle or Meow Mix. Recently I picked up a bag of Purina Cat Chow, thinking it would be more nutritious. They did not like it and didn’t eat much of it. One morning, when I went into the M&M/storage room to clean out the litter clumps and change their water. I glanced at their food bowl and barked out a laugh. One of them, I’m guessin’ Mesa, had upchucked over the Purina Cat Chow. It’s as if he had laser sight, didn’t overshoot a spec. All of it went into the bowl. Okay you two, on a scale of one to five, how would you rate Purina Cat Chow?
I’ve had some stellar experiences since starting this lifestyle and many that were, ahhhh.
I hope we got all the vomit out in this one page.
I got a call from a friend in Timberon. The Postal Service closed the post office in Timberon a few days ago. Sounds like they will be installing racks of outdoor mail boxes at some point. One would think they would have installed the boxes prior to closing the post office. In the interim, residents have to drive 34 miles to Cloudcroft along a slow, winding road with only four legal places to pass (it’s a scenic byway). My least favorite stretch of road when I make my town runs down to Alamogordo. There are residents in Timberon who are in their 80s and 90s who have not been maintaining their bodies, owning old cars and probably are not the safest drivers out on public roads. Many get their meds through the mail. This is not a good situation. Road accidents and medical emergencies? Hope not.
The ball is in your court. Pick it up.
January sixty minutes sixty years1825 minutes
s January Triple 18upper: 3115; core: 1810; legs: 1830
They clutter their minds with odds and ends that interfere with clear thinking.
Table of Contents
RVwest article ‘Following a Free Spirit’
RVwest article ‘The Space Between the Places’