Winter’s At the Door

End of November out here at the Brown Leaf Ranch hits different. Mornings are cold enough to make the dogs rethink their life choices, and the sun’s barely dragging itself over the ridge before it wants to go back to bed. You can smell winter in the air. Sharp. Heavy. Coming fast.

I spend most days the same way this time of year: checking the solar, splitting what wood I can before the rounds freeze solid, kicking the generator just to remind it who owns who, and keeping the animals fed so they don’t mutiny. The geese scream at everything, the chickens ignore everybody, and the cats swear they’re starving even with a full bowl.

Out here, nobody’s going to save you when things quit working. Pipes, power, vehicles, fences… winter finds whatever’s weak and takes a bite out of it. So you stay ahead of it. Patch what needs patching. Fix what needs fixing. Ignore the rest until spring decides to be friendly.

Groceries are on me. Bills are fifty-fifty. Peace and quiet come when they come. I keep to my lane, handle my work, and let the woods do what the woods do.

This place isn’t fancy. But it’s real. And out here, real counts for more than comfort ever did.

Winter’s about to hit. Time to tighten everything down and lean into it.

Live Free or Die Tryin’.