When I got a house last summer through fall, there
were only like three I could afford that had enough room for my kids to make
sense. The only one I liked luckily ended up being the one I got – a big old
ass house beside a quarry whose best years were a century ago. Supervising
people used to live up in this house. Anyways, most folks don’t seem to want
old shit, because the American Empire has promised an endless parade of
newness, which of course is unsustainable and expensive, both short term and
longer in terms of human survival. Nonetheless, that made it so I ended up being
the dude that fell into this house, and it’s been happy with me ever since I
got here. Very little problems, until this last week, but still minor all
things considered.
Being my first year here, just moving in back in
September, I have to get the feel for the seasons. My water line was frozen
this morning, even though I’ve got public water, and the house was relatively
warm. Discovered the weak link in the line, got it thawed without incident by
pointed a space heater into the closet. Ran up to the hardware store to get
some pipe wrap and hopefully some insulation, but they were out of the
insulation. One of the drawbacks of being new to a house is it’s not a true
southern gothic futurist compound yet, and full of all sorts of hoarded and
collected odds and ends that you need. Luckily, this place had a good bit of
left as is in the rough basement and sheds, so I started poking around to find
something to work like insulation around the pipe wrap around the two feet of
water line in a wooden box outside the house relatively exposed to the cold
air. No insulation but I did find a scrap roll of foam carpet matting, that
shit you put under carpets, and I sliced it up with a buck knife and tucked it
all around the pipe, and it looked cozy as fuck. I was ready to climb down in
there and sleep too. Ready for winter, for now. But while digging around for
insulation, in one of the metal sheds, I found a whole box of mason jars,
including two wide mouth quarter jars. I only had one, because wide mouth jars
are a commodity, and my ex-wife is a herbalist so made sure to keep most all of
them in the separation. I had one, which I used for my drinking glass. But now
I got three, all because I live in a country ass house with a bunch of shit
laying around. Pipes froze, but they thawed nicedly, and I found some wide
mouth jars. Country blessings, baby, country blessings. I celebrated with a
long walk nowhere. Nowhere is always the best place to walk.
RAVEN MACK is a mystic poet-philosopher-artist of the Greater Appalachian unorthodox tradition. He does have an amazing PATREON, but also *normal* ARTIST WEBSITE too.
Saturday, January 30
SONG OF THE DAY: Time Is Never On Our Side
Label Labyrinth:
country blessings,
country living,
dedication to walks,
I be fixin broke shit,
Krupert's jukebox
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