The Journal: Ash Fall (5 page)

Being self-sufficient is part of being
prepared, an important part, and that need was growing stronger in
me. I’d always tried to heed those feelings, and it usually served
me well. Something was tweaking my alert system. I didn’t know what
it was, but I’d listen, although it was likely just memories of
this past winter and worrying about shortages. I wish I could
easily resupply everything we used over the winter. I don’t think
that will be possible though.

CHAPTER 4

May 7

Keith Kay stopped by this morning to see if I
was still interested in fire wood.

“Of course I am!” I readily agreed. “And you
saved me from having to track you down, Keith.”

We’d been friends a long time and he had
furnished my stove wood for many years. Having it cut, split and
delivered saved me a great deal of time that I could spend on other
things, including the garden.

“Unfortunately, the price has gone up,
Allexa. It’s the cost of gas for the splitter machine and diesel
for this hog of a truck,” he said, pointing a thumb at the large
red dump truck parked in my driveway.

“I understand, Keith, the cost of everything
has gone up. When can you bring the first load?” I asked. I was
delighted when he said later that day. It gave me peace of mind to
get all my winter wood done early in the season. I had acres of
wood I could harvest, and cutting wood was very time consuming. We
used a lot of wood last winter for staying warm and cooking, and we
needed every piece we could store.

“So how did you do this winter, Keith? How’s
Carron? I didn’t see either of you at the food bank at the township
hall,” I asked.

“The wife is fine and it’s thanks to her that
we made it,” Keith said. “She did a lot of canning last fall. I
must admit, though, I got real tired of tomatoes and green beans.”
He laughed. “But we didn’t starve, and I did manage to get a deer
or two, which helped, and the swamp was abundant with rabbit. Of
course staying warm wasn’t a problem.”

I imagined not; he must have years of wood
stacked in his yard.

* * *

After Keith left, John and I emptied the
woodshed of the remaining two face cord that we didn’t burn over
the winter and I stacked it on the pallets nearest the house for
the first burn in the fall.

“Aren’t you putting any on that other set of
pallets?” he asked, looking toward the small brown barn that I used
for storing canning jars and equipment. Under the clothesline
attached to the short sloping roof were three empty wooden
pallets.

“Yes, I have longer range plans for that spot
though. There are a couple of trees down by the creek that fell
during a wind storm that still need to be cut up, and one that has
already been bolted,” I explained. “It will be very green wood and
need longer seasoning so I want to keep it separate. Once we get
the shed full, you can cut up the trees whenever you want, if you
want.”

I so appreciated the work he was helping me
with and I certainly didn’t want to take advantage of him, plus I
didn’t want to wear him out. My heart tugged at the thought of him
going back to work soon.

John grinned at me. “It’s been awhile since
I’ve used a chain saw. It might be fun.”

Fun? I smiled, bemused. I don’t think he
understood how many trees there were, and that cutting was only the
first step. The bolts then need to be hauled up near the pallets,
much easier now with the four-wheelers, then there was the
splitting and stacking. It was all hot, sweaty work, and black fly
season was approaching, not to mention the ticks and the
mosquitoes, another reason I liked to get the firewood done
early.

* * *

It was always a shock to get that first load
of wood dumped in the yard. Keith showed up later in afternoon with
a trailer loaded instead of the dump truck. John gaped at the
pile.

“Is all that going to fit into that small
shed?” he mumbled. The 8x8x8 shed held a full ten face cord of
stacked wood.

“Actually, this will only fill it halfway,” I
said.

He looked skeptical. On my own, it would take
me a week to stack this much wood, re-splitting what I needed to.
Keith had a commercial splitter, so it only did standard cuts for a
wood stove. Having a wood cook stove, my wood requirement was
slightly different. I need smaller, just not shorter, pieces. About
half of this wood would need to be split again. I really didn’t
mind. I felt like I was doing more of the process myself this way.
Of course having a gas log splitter helped a great deal.

I explained to John about the various sizes
while we sorted through the pile nearest the wood shed, tossing
pieces in that direction. Then we stepped over the wood now inside
the shed and I started lining up hunks of the wood on the floor in
a particular fashion, explaining why as I went.

“Even though the shed has sides that could
hold the wood in place, I don’t want to put the physical pressure
on the boards. By stacking as if it were a free standing rick, we
get the same amount in, without possible damage to the building.
Last thing we need is a collapsed shed in the middle of winter.” I
showed him how turning the end pieces sideways every other row gave
a stable foundation for the next row, and how by using a piece that
had a flat side kept the wood from rolling. Whole, un-split logs
could be stacked in the middle, not on the ends. It was all very
similar to how we had just done the pallet stacking, only on a
larger scale. There was also a need to pitch the rows slightly
backward, to prevent the row from falling forward. I once had a
stack of wood fall and narrowly missed getting my legs buried in
logs. I had listened to that inner voice and moved out of the way
only seconds before getting crushed.

Once the area immediately in front of the
shed was cleared of logs, I showed John where the log splitter was,
a big, shiny, red 27-ton splitter. John’s eyes got big, and his
grin got bigger. Men just loved these kinds of toys. We pushed and
pulled it into place, and then I remembered that over at Greg’s was
a handy device for moving things like this around: a ball-to-hitch
caddy. Maybe we’d use it to put it back when we’re done. We worked
for hours, and then called it quits. I was exhausted and my back
ached. I’m sure John was tired too, though he wasn’t admitting
it.

* * *

“Have you been able to replace any of the
stuff we used up this past winter?” John casually asked over
dinner.

“Not yet. Most of the food we used came from
the garden. I’ll start canning when the garden starts producing.” I
was being nonchalant about it, and I didn’t want to worry him.
Gardens are very iffy things. “I haven’t been to town to see about
the basic staples like flour, rice and pasta.”

“Is there anything you would do
differently?”

Even though what I had done all these years
had served all of us very well, there was definitely more I’d like
to do, and the question got me thinking.

“As a matter of fact, I’d like to take a
break from the physical work tomorrow, and go shopping. I just got
a big check from the township, a belated paycheck for the past
several months. I need to cash it.”

“I’m sure whatever they paid you doesn’t come
close to what you gave in return.” John smiled at me sincerely,
knowing how many times I made trips into Moose Creek, sometimes
under adverse conditions, to offer my knowledge and help to the
community as emergency manager of the township.

“I told Anna I didn’t want it. She insisted,
and I must admit I can use the money. It will sure make me feel
better if I can replace some of the supplies we used up, especially
what I gave to the Stone Soup Kitchen.”

The volunteer soup kitchen may have been my
idea, and I may have secretly donated buckets of rice and beans to
it; it was Pastor Carolyn who kept it going and the town folk that
made it successful.

“Do we have a shopping list?” he asked, and I
felt a warm rush at the we part. I was happy and content that John
was back and I think he felt the same. I just wondered how long it
would last this time.

“Not really. It shouldn’t take much to come
up with one though,” I said. “Maybe we can work on that
tonight?”

“It will be interesting for me to see what
you’ve used,” he said, and I was gifted with one of those lopsided
smiles that made me feel warm inside. “So,” he continued, “what
would you do differently? Or maybe a better question is, what would
you liked to have had to make things easier?”

I thought for a minute. “Well, I think a
second means of power would have been helpful. Maybe a solar array
with a bank of batteries, that’s really pricey though,” I said
wistfully. There were a few residents that had set up huge solar
panels a year or two ago, the systems were for usage and feeding
back to the power company, not for energy storage. They depended on
the sun for daytime power, then went back on the grid power at
night, which meant they had no evening power this past winter. A
large bank of batteries being charged during the sunny days would
ensure electricity to use at night.

“Yeah, having solar sure would have been
nice,” I said. “Not having to get dressed to start up the generator
would have been much more convenient and Jacob could’ve watched TV
anytime he wanted.”

We both remembered how angry I got at Jason
the time he ran the gennie just for his son’s cartoons, wasting
precious and limited gas.

“Anything else?” John prompted.

I gazed out the window thoughtfully. “A
greenhouse,” I smiled, lost in the thought.

“A what?”

“A greenhouse. A glass room where we could
start plants for the summer garden, and grow fresh things for us to
eat even in the middle of winter. Of course, we’d have to figure
out a way to supplement the heating when there was no sun. I think
that’s a minor issue, considering a structure like that is way too
expensive to even think about.”

I sighed wistfully. A greenhouse had long
been a pipe-dream of mine. I could envision a large addition, with
an aquaponic pond at one end for humidity and irrigation using
nutrient rich fish-water, a warm, humid room with growing plants to
spend time in while the snow swirled outside. I shook myself
mentally. It wasn’t gonna happen.

“I suppose you could put a solar array on the
greenhouse to help heat it,” John continued, tying the two things
together. Interesting thought.

JOURNAL ENTRY: May 8

John has been back with me for only a few days, and
there is something we still have to address, and soon: Eric and
Jason. Both of my sons are really protective now, and they are
still mad at John for leaving like he did. I need to fix that. I
went over to talk with Eric first, finding him sitting on the front
porch, whittling.

* * *

Eric didn’t waste any time letting me know he
watches the house. “Looks like you’ve got company, Mom.”

I jumped in with both feet and said, “John is
back.”

That stopped Eric short. He looked at me,
those deep blue eyes showing concern, waiting for me to continue.
It hadn’t taken long for my oldest and I to get back to the silent
communication we had shared while he was growing up.

“He wants back in my life, our lives. I’m
accepting his return, Eric, and I want you and Jason to accept it
too.” I paused while I chose my words carefully. “He felt he had to
leave in order to do some things that would allow him to come back
on a more equal footing.” Still only silence from Eric. “I’ve been
so happy these last few days. I’m glad he’s back.”

Eric finally smiled. “That’s what I’ve been
waiting to hear, Mom. If it makes you happy again, then I will
welcome his being here.” He got up and gave me a hug and I knew
everything would be alright. Now I had to tell Jason.

* * *

Leaving John at home, I drove my new car out
to the Dam Road to see Jason. He had been working daily on the
remodeling of the doctor’s new quarters and I wasn’t sure where I
would find him. His truck wasn’t at the doctor’s office when I
drove past, so he had to be home.

I pulled into his driveway off the rutted
stone and dirt road. The county trucks weren’t wasting the limited
diesel fuel on grading residential roads and the quarter mile was
rather bumpy. Jason stepped out of his workshop, shotgun in
hand.

“Sorry, Mom, I didn’t recognize the car,” he
said, leaning the rifle against the door frame. “New wheels?”

“Actually, yes.” It was a great lead in, as I
had hoped. “An apology gift from … John.” Jason’s head snapped up
at the name. “He’s back. I’m happy he’s back. I might even forgive
him for leaving,” I smiled.

“And he gave you a new Subaru to say he’s
sorry? Wow.” He ran his hand over the shiny pale green fender. “Can
I have the old one?”

I laughed. This was going easier than I
thought. “You and Amanda have a gas efficient car. I might give the
’01 to Eric so he doesn’t have to always use the big pickup.” We
chatted for a few more minutes and I asked how the doctor’s project
was coming along.

“I’m just about done with the residence. I
have a few pieces of trim to finish staining and install in the
bathroom, then I’ll move down to the office. Amanda is there now
cleaning. He’s moving in tomorrow.” Jason took a deep breath. “Mom,
thank you. We both really needed this work, and not just for the
money. Amanda was getting really depressed not having anything to
do. Dr. Mark has hired her to clean every week now. Her spirit has
really picked up.”

“You two were perfect for the job, Jason.” I
smiled at him, gave him a hug and told him dinner was at my place
tonight, for everyone to welcome John back.