Prepping « Robin Writes

As a homesteader, you’re going to be at the mercy of the weather more so than your city counterparts. There will be things that must be done, regardless or rain or snow or wind or extreme temperatures, and it could be the difference between life and death—at some point, if not immediately—instead of just an annoyance.

Today, for example, it’s a little windy, a little chilly, and a lot rainy. Fortunately for me, I have plenty to do inside the house—or barn—but if I had animals at this point, there would still be feeding and care and for that I’d have to brave the weather.

But a lot can be said for planning ahead.

Normally, I do laundry on Monday. Today is Monday. It’s pouring rain, and I use a clothesline. If I wasn’t paying attention to weather, I might be going commando today, but I washed clothes yesterday when it was sunny and 70 degrees.

I also got the strawberry plants in the ground, and a small tree, and trimmed and mowed the orchard—because when the weatherman says, “Ninety percent chance of rain,” I tend to believe that we’ll get some precipitation. Probably.

Better safe than sorry!

The worrisome forecast is coming up, though: high chance of rain for the next ten days or longer. Not thrilled about that—it’s not good to work the soil when it’s super muddy and at this rate, my weeds will be bigger than my potato plants. And they’re looking really good!

Something else we have to consider around here is burning. I’m a fanatic about fire safety, or so my husband says, but I won’t allow burning if the wind is higher than 10 mph. Period. We still have some of that old house to burn down before we bury the rest, but yesterday the conditions were ideal: no wind, and rain in the forecast.

That fire is completely out now, good and proper, thanks to the downpour.

Trash burning, too, should be done in low-wind conditions. As I have to say around here, repeatedly, it does NOT MATTER if there’s a grate on top of the burn barrel to keep large pieces from flying around.

“It only takes a spark,” and all that . . .

The Little Things

I brought the laundry in yesterday and put it away, shaking out each piece to get rid of any lingering dust or whatnot. Last night, as I put on my robe, I noticed something green on the sleeve.

A tiny worm.

Cute!

I flicked him off and let him take his chances with the cat. Or the dog. Whichever got to him first.

I kinda feel bad. Kinda.

I’m certainly NOT going to “set him free” outside. Good grief. I’m sure there are plenty more where he came from . . .

But it got me thinking—my daughter is coming down on Friday. She’s never been here. She’s not what you would call outdoorsy or anything, unless that means lounging by the pool on a layover; she’s a flight attendant.

She is not a fan of bugs. Not. A. Fan.

When she was six, she saw a spider on the living room floor. I told her to step on it. She refused. I bet we spent at least 15 minutes arguing over that thing. I finally squished it and told her to take a Kleenex and pick it up and throw it away.

She refused again.

Another 15 minutes later, Spidey was in the trash and my daughter was in tears. So was I, come to think of it.

From laughing.

I mean, sheesh, a dead spider. Never did get the fear of spiders thing—and I was bitten by a brown recluse when I was 16.

Oh, and she will dispose of them now—twenty-five years later. But not without, I suspect, lots of shaking and shuddering and squealing.

I’m just wondering how she’s going to manage down here . . .especially if a worm gets on her sleeve!

You’re never done prepping. You could have all the gadgets and tools, all the skills, all the food storage and everything else, but you still carry on. Why?

First, because the work is never done. Oh, sure, you can store MREs and shelf-stable food for months or years, but you probably want better than that, right? So, a garden doesn’t plant and weed and harvest itself, it doesn’t prepare its own soil for the next year, and I can certainly testify that it doesn’t build its own deer-proof fence!

Thirty rows of crops this year, plus a six-tree orchard, a couple grape vines, and some strawberries and blueberries—and, if it came down it, that would maybe, just maybe, be enough to feed us throughout the year until the next harvest.
Of course, yes, we do have stored supplies, things that aren’t easily made from scratch and a few treats, not to mention supplies to make other things. But those are supplements, not three meals a day. Providing we have a good crop, along with our storage, we could likely hold out for a year or so . . .

If we’re willing to eat ketchup sandwiches.

I jest. But food is only one thing to keep up with:
You’ll always have housework and laundry and cooking. And gardening.
Assume you have a security system, fencing and whatnot. You have to check that fencing, and probably repair it from time to time. Along with that, you have defensive skills to practice, knives, guns, your weapon of choice.
Vehicle and tool maintenance.
Clearing and cutting firewood. That’s a chore, and it takes a long time because you’ll need a ton of firewood if you have no power—it gets used up quickly, especially if you have no other heating or cooking sources.
Learning and practicing other skills, like baking or canning or small engine repair. We have a lot of those, it seems.
Plus, if you have animals—which we don’t, yet—there’s daily feeding and training and care, besides medication or first aid when needed.

Of course, if you’re like us, you’re still in the developmental stage. There were things here, yes, like a house and a barn, but we haven’t quite finished remodeling the house, and that barn, remember when it was packed full, and then empty?

Um, it’s kind of filling up again!

My point is that while you’re building, you’re also maintaining. And maintenance will be a bit easier when the building is finished.