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Cabin Life – #72

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The last week has been nothing but sunshine and warmth.  The change in Daffodils and Plowseasons was quick, and it seems like we went from zero to sixty in the temperature department, but it’s been good for the mind.  The trees are blooming and the daffodils are shining bright yellow in the hot sun.  It’s a good time of year even though my nose won’t stop running and my eyes are always itchy.

The last time I got an allergy test was a few years ago in Jacksonville.  The doctor pricked both of my forearms with different allergens.  On my right forearm were things like dust mites and pet dander.  On my left arm were all the different types of pollen.  After about five minutes, the nurse checked in on me and saw my left arm.  She left and came back with the doctor, who decided that the red, swollen flesh necessitated immediate action.  He cleaned up my arm and handed me a bright red inhaler that he recommended I carry with me at all times.

Last year, my allergies weren’t so bad.  With everything blooming early in March and then getting frozen in April, the pollen never really went that crazy.  But now that we’re done with winter, I’m not really looking forward to seeing a wave of yellow air coming towards me.  I can only hope that in the next few weeks we get some rain.  It’s really dry up here, but my reason for wishing for rain is selfish.  A few well placed days of rain during the pollen onslaught can mean the difference between a normal spring and a horrible spring for me.

Hopefully this spring isn’t too bad.  But even if the pollen is yellowing the air, at least there’s no snow on the ground anymore.  I don’t have to hike into the cabin and I don’t have to worry about the woodstove.  It’s amazing how much of my time is spent handling and thinking about the stove though.  Even now, I’m starting to haul logs out of the woods down to the yard to buck and split for next year’s supply.  It’s been in the seventies for a week and I’m still working on firewood.

Even though the weather has turned and I actually enjoy working outside running the chainsaw, it’s a bit draining to already be preparing for winter.  It’s only May, and I’m thinking ahead to October, wondering if when all is said and done if I’ll have enough wood set aside or if I’ll have to buy some.  Will I be able to build a new wood shed or empty out the old one and fill it to the brim?  What kind of new wood stove am I going to buy?  Should I go with stainless steel or black chimney pipe?  These are the questions I’ll be working on all summer.

I’m not sure how I feel about that.  Sitting here now, with the sun burning off the morning chill, do I really want to spend the few nice months a year we get up here working on winter projects?  I don’t really have much of a choice I guess.  I just hope I can remember to enjoy the warmth while I work on winter projects.  Because a winter without a summer is nothing to look forward to.

Be sure to like Middle of the Trail on Facebook for more pictures and daily updates and follow @JustinALevine for whatever it is I do on Twitter.

Cabin Life – #20

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With no TV or internet to distract me, I spend a lot of time thinking.  Just thinking.  One of the things I’ve been thinking about lately is how crippled I used to be by my depression.  I also think a lot about the sea change in my own personality and life since I sought out treatment.

My therapist in Jacksonville was good, she was no Freud or anything like that, but I didn’t really need someone to tell me that all my problems were somehow related to sex.  A cigar is just a cigar.  I needed someone to unload my problems on.  During our first session, she asked what I wanted out of the therapy.  I told her I wanted to say what was making me angry (always a strong byproduct of my depression) and that I needed an independent person to tell me when I was right to be upset and when I was being a baby.  I can’t begin to describe the weight that was lifted as I gained some perspective on my feelings.

I heard an interview with a famous person the other day, and she said that her depression was never gone, but it felt like a train that was coming, and all you could do was hop on and hope that you survived the ride.  I couldn’t agree more.  It’s not that I don’t get depressed anymore or that a couple years of therapy was a magic pill.  But the lows are a lot more shallow and the train is easier to hold on to.

I’ve always found solace in nature, which is why I’ve basically spent my life outdoors.  The sounds, smells, and colors of the woods are very soothing, and I can honestly say that I have never been depressed during a hike or camping trip.  Going through therapy and addressing my issues led me to the conclusion that if I was happiest outside, then I needed to spend as much time in nature as I could.  Hence my leaving Florida to come back to the Adirondacks.  It’s my way of making my lifestyle my therapy.

The other major thing I learned in therapy was that I was really exceedingly normal.  I am open to discussing my problems because I think that many people suffer day to day from mental demons or whatever you want to call it, and I hope that others can buck the stigma of needing to talk to a therapist.  It took me about five sessions to realize that I had nothing to be ashamed of.  But as I sat in the waiting room twice a week, I saw dozens of people come in and immediately put their eyes to the ground out of shame.  I noticed it because I was one of them for a while.  And how silly, to be ashamed of seeing a therapist when you know for an absolute fact that I am also there to see a therapist.

As I sit here writing this, the snow is falling again, and there’s about an inch on the ground.  It started raining around four this morning, and changed to snow sometime after I fell back to sleep.  The new porch roof did well in the rain, and the new floor makes the porch feel much, much larger.  It’s a gray and dreary day, cold, windy and wet.  And I couldn’t be happier.

Cabin Life – #17

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The yellow-bellied sapsucker.  My all time favorite name for an animal.  I’ve seen two of them in the last week.  This March was definitely a weird one as far as weather goes.  Record breaking high temperatures led to several shirtless days outside and a sun burn on my back.

It was about this time last year that I left Jacksonville and headed back up here.  The year didn’t turn out any where near what I had planned, but that’s alright.  Now, I am completely absorbed with the amount of birds that have been popping up around here.  I saw two grouse walk through the yard a little while ago, and there were a bunch of robins that passed through a few days ago.  I’ve even seen a few geese flying by along with a bunch of others that I can’t identify.

This year’s lunge into spring was so sudden that it felt as if we had just skipped a few months and were in the middle of summer.  But that would have meant missing the spring, and even though it’s usually more of a mud season than anything else, I love the abundance of growth and warmth after winter.

I went canoeing last week, the first time I was ever able to do that on my birthday.   The sun was warm and the water was freezing, and my buddy and I managed to stay out on the water for a while.  We didn’t go anywhere, mainly because we had no where to go, but it was a great way to end the winter.  I always love snow until the first day of spring, and then I want it gone, and this year, that was pretty much what happened.

And now the birds and animals are coming out, there are small buds and flowers on the trees, and the little stream that runs through here is flowing.  The air smells different, and not just because it’s no longer stained with the exhaust of the woodstove.  It’s lighter later in the day, and the candles and lanterns have not been in use much.

Yup, spring is one of my favorite seasons, along with the rest of them.

Cabin Life – #15

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Pico and I went snow shoeing for probably the last time today.  I wanted to get out before all the snow is gone, and I think there’ll be enough left to ski on tomorrow.  But the snow is going fast, almost as fast as it came.

In the last two weeks, I’ve gotten about two feet of snow out at the cabin.

Black Capped Chickadee

The plow guy had to come three times in four days, after having been out here only three times in the last three months.  But now it’s about fifty degrees, and the forecast calls for warm for the rest of the week.  It’s starting to look like winter might really be over.

I missed this part of the Adirondack spring last year, as I was still living in Florida.  I missed opening the windows and letting that clean-smelling breeze roll through the house.  I missed seeing people’s super white arms emerging from t-shirts for the first time in months.  I just plain missed the change in the seasons.

Jacksonville, FL is far enough north that there is kind of a “winter,” where it does get cold for a couple of months.  The palm trees stay green and you might need a hat and gloves in the morning, but that’s about all you get out of the change of seasons.  There’s really only two seasons:  Hot, and not as hot.

The lady bugs have been proliferating around and on the big window.  I keep catching glimpses of them out of the corner of my eye, and thinking that someone is coming up the driveway, but that’s not really all that likely.  Now that it’s warm, the snow is melting, and there are brown patches of dead grass peeking out, I can’t help but feel some sort of satisfaction.  Back in October, I thought that living off the grid for the winter would be a huge challenge.

It has been.  But not one that has broken or defeated me.  If anything, I am stronger, both mentally and physically, than when I moved out here.  This winter was an experiment in self-reliance.  Not that I haven’t gotten help along the way, but being way out here is something that you have to experience to truly understand.

And really, isn’t life all about the experience?

Cabin Life – #11

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There’s a half dozen black capped chickadees hanging around the cabin now.  They finally found the birdfeeders, though the blue jays have been scarce.  One of the jays was hanging out in an apple tree this morning, but I haven’t seen them at the feeders in a few days.

I was recently asked why I decided to live off the grid.  Long story short:  It’s free and I can’t afford to pay rent.  But when I really think about it, this has been a long time coming.

            The idea of being self sufficient has always appealed to me.  I just couldn’t afford to buy a piece of land to do this on, and until this winter, I had never been lucky enough to have someone just offer to let me live in a place for free.  When Amy asked if I wanted to stay out here, I didn’t even think about it.  I just said yes.

I’ve usually moved around a lot, mainly because I get restless, and the grass is always greener somewhere else.  In 2006, when I moved to Florida, I was in desperate need of a change.  I had battled depression most of my life, and Jacksonville seemed like a good escape.  Eventually, I manned up and sought help for my depression.  And part of my therapist’s plan was to help me realize that I could do what I want with my life and not be afraid of the consequences.  After all, it was my life to screw up.

The more I thought about this new, happier phase, the more I knew that I couldn’t keep living in Florida.  I gave up two jobs, health insurance, vacation time, a pension, lots of friends, and agreed to a long-distance relationship all to move back to the mountains and work a seasonal job with no benefits so that I could hike and play with Pico.  I knew that I would be broke and I didn’t care.

I think that’s why I am adjusting so well to living off the grid; because I’ve been mentally preparing for it for years.  And now that I’m actually doing it, I couldn’t be happier.  Sure, I’m broke, single, and have to ask friends if I can take a quick shower at their houses (They always say yes!) but what could be better than having an adventure like this?  When I look back twenty years from now, I know that this time will have been a major turning point in my life.

The experience I’m having is already shaping the future me.  I’m making plans for a cabin of my own, looking for land, and reading and taking classes on farming, homesteading, food preservation and draft horse handling.  I’m not shy of hard work, and when I can afford some land, I plan on building a log cabin and living off the grid.  But, since I’m not the Unabomber, I will also have solar panels, running water and indoor plumbing.  Plus I’m pretty sure that he didn’t have a blog.

Cabin Life – #6

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Why did I let myself fall asleep on the couch at six in the evening?  Now it’s two in the morning, and I’m wide awake.  I forgot how boring it is to be up in the middle of the night without any electricity.

A year ago, I was living in Florida, five blocks from the ocean, with a pretty good job (two of them, actually), and a nice place to live.  And the temperature never went below zero.  I was on a boat a lot of my work days, and got paid to hang out with my friends while working at the bar on weekends.

Wood smoke and sunrise

Occasionally, I would go hiking with Pico.  Our favorite place to go was Pumpkin Hill Creek Preserve State Park.  There were a few loops of trails out there, and I regularly worked with some of the people there on water quality stuff.  Although it wasn’t really hiking.  Sure, I was walking outside in the woods, but just kind of strolling along a sandy, single-lane road that was maintained not for recreation, but as a fire break in case of a forest fire.

When Pico and I would go hiking, I always looked for the eagle’s nest.  And there was a chance that we’d see deer or wild boar, and we were guaranteed a sight of the enormous gopher tortoise.  They can move really fast when they want to.

One time for work, I was driving a truck along the hiking trail, and a big fat black boar popped out of the undergrowth and started running away from the truck.  Perhaps instinctively, I started to chase the boar to see how fast it was running.  I backed off the gas when I hit 17 miles per hour, and the thing disappeared back into the brush a few seconds later.  I could see the tusks on that monster from about fifty feet, and they scared the crap out of me.  I just imagined Pico getting impaled by a tusk as he ran up to greet the boar.

Chasing the boar reminded me of a time when I was at Paul Smiths, some friends and I were out on a large, private property.  We had permission of course, and since it was fall and the height of berry season, we figured that we could probably find some black bears grazing out in the fields.  As we drove around the enormous expanses of blueberry fields, we saw 24 black bears.  Only one of them was out on the road, and when it took off running, we chased, just to see how fast it would run.  It was a small bear, probably a yearling, and we topped out at about 18 miles per hour.  Seeing that many bears was an incredible experience.

I’m glad now that it’s winter, there are not too many living things out in the woods that would pose a real threat to me or Pico.  I never take his leash on our outings, and he’s free to run and smell and pee all he likes.  The bears are hibernating, and the skunks and porcupines are not moving around much, though I have found some tracks and scat from porcupines.  So far, Pico has shown no interest in chasing the rabbits, but the red squirrels out back are now firm enemies.  It’s become apparent that he expects me to help him get the squirrels.  He trees them, then looks at me and barks.  The squirrels laugh and move to adjacent trees.  Luckily, they haven’t found the bird feeders, or Pico would probably have dove through the big window trying to get them, expecting me to follow.

 

Cabin Life – #5

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Bitter, bitter cold.  The HIGH temperature yesterday was 1.  About 8:00 this morning, the thermometer in my car read -18.  And that was after the sun had been up for a while.  It hurts to do anything outside when it’s that cold, and I’m pretty sure that I would rather die than go to the outhouse right now.

There’s really no difference to the feel of the air whether it’s twenty below or thirty below.  Both temperatures are equally hellish.  It’s not like when the temperature goes from thirty to forty above.  Forty degrees is a really warm day up here this time of year.  I would have my windows open, there’d be people walking around in t-shirts.  But trust me, when its more than ten degrees below zero, it is all terrible.

I’m chicken sitting, otherwise I wouldn’t go anywhere on a day like today.  The car gets started at least thirty minutes before I leave to let the engine and parts get warmed up as well as the heater.  She starts fine, but there are always

The front door hinge inside the cabin

horrible sounds when it’s this cold out.  The Jeep doesn’t want to go anywhere either and it makes its protestations known.  Too bad, I got chickens to take care of.

So much time and energy are devoted to dealing with the cold when it is like this.  Two nights ago, it was well below zero, and when I went to put the chickens away for the night, I noticed that there was no light coming from the coop.  I checked inside, and the heating lamp was not on.  It was a frantic scramble to check the extension cords and make sure they were plugged in.  Hands freeze and become useless very quickly when they have to be shoved into the snow searching for a little piece of wire.  And I have to be careful opening the door to go in.  The tiny bit of moisture on my hands from the snow freezes to the doorknob, and I have to exert a little extra effort to “let go” of the knob.

Once inside, my face and hands start stinging.  I was outside for maybe five minutes.  I check all the places where I think light bulbs could be: basement, garage, linen closet.  Finally in a back corner of the basement, I find the light bulbs.  I love compact fluorescent bulbs to save money, but in this case they’re useless.  I need a good old fashioned incandescent, one that sucks up the juice and spits out a ton of heat.  I don’t know enough about chickens to know how well they’d survive a winter up here with no shelter, but I do know that I don’t want to report a dead chicken to Amy.  Even if it would be a delicious tragedy.

Another option if I can’t get the lamp working is to bring them into the garage.  It’s warmer and sheltered, but then I would have to clean up all that chicken crap in the morning.  Plus, they probably wouldn’t want to leave the garage, meaning that I would have to catch each one and carry it outside.  If you’ve never hung out with any chickens, they’re kind of dumb.

Luckily, it was just a burned out bulb, and I found one halogen light that seemed to throw some heat.  The next morning, the chickens were all still alive, so the bulb must have at least helped.  After checking the coop for eggs and finding two frozen ones, I guess that chickens can survive pretty cold temperatures.