Time past is starting to lose its definitive placement for me at times.
On or about the end of october '85
when I trudged up my footpath from the road to my chosen site,
dragging 16' 2x6's and 1/2 inch ply wood, to build the floor of my tent,
that I would spend two years living in, even in sub zero weather . . .
a floor that would become a small cabin,
where I would live another four years.
Yes I had running water . . . I had to run down to the creek to get it.
. . . many folks thought I was crazy or even a nut.
Nobody said any thing . . . even Buddy One didn't say much,
only that I was a frontiersman out of time.
My mother cried when she visited.
She walked up the path . . . cried . . . and walked back down,
without saying a word. Never to return.
But it was my sister, visiting after my first two months of being alone in the winter . . .
. . . that said, "Listen, the quiet . . . it's deafening"
She got it right away.
Still, many thought I was . . .
So thank you to my new family . . .
a family of mostly like minded . . .
winter campers . . . and summer campers
that think or wish they were more daring, or not.
Yet it is OK for us to want to get out, or get away,
solo, or in a group.
To live in the wilderness . . . one night at a time, if need be.
To be self-sufficient . . . one night at a time.
To be innovative, daring, and different.
To capture moments that we can cherish for a life time.
Moments that might lose their place chronologically,
yet remain steadfast as an event, that we experienced.
I have grandchildren that I may never see,
but I have young children now . . . that love my stories
They love to read what I write, even what I post here,
it gives them a glimpse into their Papa's life past,
to them I'm like a historical person, yet that lives.
To me I am not that person, but an adventurer,
that was to scared to do, many things.
So thank you family of mine, may we share our lives together,
and enjoy each other immensely.
I write this as I prep. to hang in -11°C or 11°F again tonight,
and I think back to my tent property, and think of trees that were favorites,
That I could have hung from.
I had two favorite trees, one that was growing like a slingshot handle,
the other was struck by lightning,
40 ft up and knocking the rest of the 15 ft top
to 90 degrees, or parallel to the ground.
At that point a 4" sapling was grown to a 15ft height
after all this time they could still be standing . . .
I'll have to ask an Ent . . . right . . . a fictional very old tree that talks.
But I am going on . . . and it is late . . . time to hang.