apocalypse « Robin Writes

Down on the Farm

I’ve decided it’s too hot to day anything but sit on the porch, fan running, and drink beer. Seriously.

And it’s only 84 degrees. I must be old.

Remember the summer of 1980? One hundred twenty degrees in the shade in the corral at camp. And I survived, even wearing jeans and boots all day. In fact, when I came home on weekends, I kept turning the thermostat up on the AC and Mom would complain.

Fast forward, er, 36 years, and here I sit. Sweating. A lot. I mean, when I was putting up the new clothesline, I could SMELL myself. Ugh.

Okay, enough complaining—I just hope I get used to this quick, because, unlike tonight when the temps should drop into the 60s, the rest of the summer won’t be like that!

We’re down at the Farm on a weekend this time, because this morning we went to an equipment auction at the MDC. Boats and motors and trailers and parts and implements and tractors and UTVs and ATVs. And trucks. And more.

Everyone said bidding was high this time, and all we came away with were two gas-powered backpack blowers. And boy, are they heavy!

It was hot, but again, not too bad. A little cloud cover, a slight breeze. A LOT of people.

Then, of course, the obligatory shopping, and back home. Mostly, I’m piddling around here, trying to stay cool. I did put up the aforementioned clothesline, and put away the supplies. And tried to light a bonfire.

Smokey the Bear’s got nothing on me. I swear, the stuff is being deliberately . . . I don’t know what! But other than a couple flares, thanks to a judicious application of lighter fluid, that was it. I gave up. Guess I’ll just look at brush piles for a while yet.

I’m inside, and it’s not too bad—at least 10 degrees cooler. And looking at those brush piles. . .

My husband is up at the barn, fixing things. Most particularly, my garden rake that he broke last week, killing a snake. He sure hates snakes. I explained that one does NOT need to raise said rake over one’s head in order to bash said snake and deliver a fatal blow. . .

And now, as we speak, the new AC unit is going in. Call me a wimp, I don’t care! I ditched the jeans and boots about 2:00 p.m., about two hours later than I should have.

In other news, the garden is growing and expanding, the barn is cleaned and traps are laid down for those pesky mice. Plus, I rigged up a cooling system for the deck and picked up a ton of trash in the pasture and garden areas. And all the trimming and cutting is done, too. For now.

Someone said to us, recently, that she was surprised we’d been purchasing some items that didn’t fit with her idea of “going off-grid.” Well, first, I still work and I still need Wi-Fi, which kind of requires being ON the grid, but in general terms, “off-grid” can mean different things to different people.

In a nutshell, we’re preppers, and that means that we are prepared for almost any eventuality. What this means, and “going off-grid” can also mean, is that we are or will be ready IF that happens.

It does not mean starting a hippy commune using only hand-tools and making our own clothing out of hemp.

Yes, we have gas-powered tools, and eventually a fuel tank; yes, we have tools run by electricity. And we use them and will continue to do so, BUT—if the time comes in which we can’t, we have hand-tools for that purpose.

We’re growing most of our food, whatever can be grown, and we’ll raise livestock once we move; we’ll hunt if necessary. That doesn’t mean we won’t purchase whatever doesn’t fall into these categories, while we can or if needed.

We have a well; it uses a pump run on electricity. We’ll have generators for backup. Our fridge runs on electric, as do fans, computers, AC unit, etc. We’re not exactly “roughing it.” But we use very little power as it is, and we’re, again, PREPARED to use even less, or none at all.

All preppers do so in different ways. It doesn’t mean going back in time to the 1880s or whenever, and it doesn’t even mean “going green.” The common thread is being ready if something bad happens. For instance:

Economic collapse

Civil unrest

Terrorist actions

Do I think any of these things are going to happen? Not today. Probably not tomorrow. Good heavens, I hope not! We’re not ready—close, closer than most, but not ready.

But at some point, yes. One or all three. No, I don’t have a good guess; no one really does. I’m hoping for at least a year or two. Time to finish getting ready, time to adjust.

Am I worried? A little bit, yes. But I think it’s just enough to inspire me and push me along, not make me break out the tinfoil . . .