one scout, two scouts, three or more...
As a girl, I was a Brownie, an Indian Princess and a Girl Scout. I learned how to be a good friend, set a table and make a cookbook; but none of these groups taught me how to survive in the wildness or survive a bad trip to the hair salon, for that matter. In retrospect, I probably should have joined the Boy Scouts. I could have gotten a badge in knot tying, something I think of every other time I'm roping down a load of hay in the truck. Or learned how to start a fire with two sticks... I haven't needed this yet, but ya never know.
But, you don't need a club or a badge to become a good boy scout - you just need to stick yourself on a farm for several years to deal with broken machinery, wood plies, critters and mother nature. You'll turn out to be a boy scout by necessity or by accident.
The week before Christmas we started getting snow. I loved it - a hushed blanket of white over the landscape. It snowed and snowed and I began to make the mental list... candles (check), flashlights and batteries (check), water (check). After a few days I filled some buckets with water for the toilet (no power, no well pump, no flushing) and enjoyed being trapped on the hill.
I was just beginning to think we'd weathered the storm with no major problems when the darn power finally went out. I set up the Coleman stove to cook dinner, stoked the fire and cuddled in with the dogs. 24 hours is fine, 48 is manageable, but after days without electricity things start to get un-fun. There hasn't been a shower (save the sponge bath over a pot of hot water); the days are extremely short and the nights drag on (you can only read by candle light for so long); and you find yourself sleeping in long johns, flannel pj's, a fleece and gloves in front of the fire (oh so not-sexy). And the dogs are shivering under blankets.
The boy scout in me called uncle and I decided to head for a cozier farm (which promised a hot bath and a glass of wine). The dogs were ready to go too, so we broke camp and headed down the hill. That was a boy scout four-wheeling adventure in itself, but we arrived to enjoy the creature comforts for a few days until the juice came back at our place on Christmas day.
The farm survived, I took the longest shower ever, began turning the pounds and pounds of tomatoes that had been in the freezer (and then snow bank) into pasta sauce and enjoyed the yummiest spaghetti for Christmas dinner.
It's nice to know you can become a good boy scout at any age ( and that if you need to abandon the wilderness there are friends waiting for you).
If you think about it, every experience is worth having.
- Henry Ford
But, you don't need a club or a badge to become a good boy scout - you just need to stick yourself on a farm for several years to deal with broken machinery, wood plies, critters and mother nature. You'll turn out to be a boy scout by necessity or by accident.
The week before Christmas we started getting snow. I loved it - a hushed blanket of white over the landscape. It snowed and snowed and I began to make the mental list... candles (check), flashlights and batteries (check), water (check). After a few days I filled some buckets with water for the toilet (no power, no well pump, no flushing) and enjoyed being trapped on the hill.
I was just beginning to think we'd weathered the storm with no major problems when the darn power finally went out. I set up the Coleman stove to cook dinner, stoked the fire and cuddled in with the dogs. 24 hours is fine, 48 is manageable, but after days without electricity things start to get un-fun. There hasn't been a shower (save the sponge bath over a pot of hot water); the days are extremely short and the nights drag on (you can only read by candle light for so long); and you find yourself sleeping in long johns, flannel pj's, a fleece and gloves in front of the fire (oh so not-sexy). And the dogs are shivering under blankets.
The boy scout in me called uncle and I decided to head for a cozier farm (which promised a hot bath and a glass of wine). The dogs were ready to go too, so we broke camp and headed down the hill. That was a boy scout four-wheeling adventure in itself, but we arrived to enjoy the creature comforts for a few days until the juice came back at our place on Christmas day.
The farm survived, I took the longest shower ever, began turning the pounds and pounds of tomatoes that had been in the freezer (and then snow bank) into pasta sauce and enjoyed the yummiest spaghetti for Christmas dinner.
It's nice to know you can become a good boy scout at any age ( and that if you need to abandon the wilderness there are friends waiting for you).
If you think about it, every experience is worth having.
- Henry Ford
posted by trina at 9:11 PM
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