Story Threats Within, Threats Without

Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
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Sorry guys ... been really busy in real life. Needed to restart the muse engine where I was getting burnt out.

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Chapter 45​


Something was just pulling me to go down and see what the damage was up close and personal, or at least up closer. It would only be personal if not everyone escaped that truck, and I was fairly certain everyone had given the road crew hadn’t made more panicked noise than they had. But just in case, I decided it wouldn’t be such a good idea to go crashing through the bushes. I might have been allowing my curiosity too much free reign, but I wasn’t being completely stupid either.

Slow and steady and I still wound up slipping and sliding and covered with mud and it was mostly clay, so it clung to every nook and cranny it got into, including through my jeans and undergarments. I felt like I was carrying an extra twenty pounds by the time I got on level with the truck. And that took backtracking several times to pick up trails that hadn’t been washed out.

Oh. My. Gosh. I could use worse language, but I’m trying to break some bad habits because of Tess. Lord knows she can be a parrot. On purpose. And Beau does it enough as it is though I think he is trying to watch it around the kids. I’m not in a place to say anything to him about it yet (or ever) so I just focus on my own mouth and the words I use.

The moon came out saving me from stepping into the deep pudding mud the truck was stuck in. It had slid backwards right up to several boulders, and someone had been unable to close the passenger door after getting out. Goody. I used the boulders to get to the truck and then used the open door to get into the truck. I felt it settle a little more and decided speed was my friend and of the essence. I’d long ago considered the issue of fingerprints – and though a little paranoid – I had taken to using nitrile gloves when going through the cabins. I did the same with the truck; sliding off my fingerless gloves, putting the nitrile ones on, and then putting my fingerless gloves back on over the top just in case I needed to make a quick getaway.

The truck was a four-door, all-electric utility vehicle. No wonder it didn’t have the power it needed to escape the initial mud. It wasn’t even a 4x4 which told me it was a government fleet piece of crap. Probably purchased with a grant because it was “eco-smart”. Smart? Don’t think so Slim.

I had burglary down to a science, the truck wasn’t much different. Glove compartment equaled a couple of flashlights and a couple cans of bear spray. Visors equaled area maps. Underneath the seats equaled a larger rechargeable spotlight. Then bingo, behind the rear seat was a bag with a portable defib kit, a giant medical kit done up backpack style, and a bag that looked like it had emergency signaling odds and ends. I got everything out and tossed it into the bushes then scrambled into the back of the truck and figured out that the rear was decked. Nifty but probably added digi’s to the cost that hadn’t been necessary.

Most of what was in there were tools and we had plenty of, so I skipped over that in favor of anything in the drawers that we didn’t have. There was a box of road flares, some compressed air canisters that I assume are some type of tire-fix supplies. A box of safety glasses. Some awful colored safety vests that I grabbed in case we came up with a use for them. Besides they were lightweight and didn’t take up much room. A butane torch and some extra fuel for it. Another heavy-duty spotlight that could be attached directly to a car sized battery. A bulk package of handwarmers. Then a bunch of small odds and ends that I kept stuffing in my pockets like carabiners, duct tape, electronic replacement parts, and reflective tape. I grabbed the door in preparation of getting out when I heard voices. Oh crap. I ducked down in the floor board just in time to notice the mud was starting to ooze into the truck. Crappity crap crap.

“Barlow is going to birth a herd of purple peacocks. Lookit. The truck is sinking more. If it slides the door is coming off. We gotta try and save some of the equipment to …”

“To what? Prove we are idiots?,” another man said. “We can’t even get to the truck anymore for this side. That mud … uh uh. I don’t even know how deep it is. Luke went under and he’s six feet tall. The truck is fotched up on those rocks. As soon as it slides loose it is going under.”

“It’s already going under. Or will be soon,” said a third voice. The man wasn’t wrong. The mud was over my wrists. What was worse it was a sucking pudding type mud; the type that it was difficult to get loose from.

“This is going to mean my job,” said the first man. I could hear the worry and fear.

“Uh uh. We’ll back you. You got us out just in time and Luke is still so shook I’m not sure we shouldn’t call an ambulance. I’m praying he didn’t inhale any when his head went down. Barlow forced us … threatened us … if we didn’t come up here to investigate. They could have waiting ‘til morning and sent drones. Hell, had it been daylight I doubt we would have come near as far up as we did. Going back down on foot … half the road is already slid. We couldn’t have gotten the truck down even if it hadn’t got taken in the mudslide.”

“You … you sure you’re up for it. Barlow … he’s got backing. But I can’t lose the insurance. Melissa is on her last round of chemo and the tumor has already shrunk so much. Just another round and …”

“Hey man, we got your back. You’ve had ours all these years. Been anyone else and I might not have picked up the phone to start with. Let’s just get down and check on Luke. Kid is acting like he banged his head on top of the rest.”

“O … okay. Thanks. I’ll owe you for life. She’s all I got since my parents … you know what they did. Let’s just get down and what your step. Let me go first and feel the road before we get all the way on it. Especially that stretch that keeps slipping more.”

They left just in time. Getting out of the truck was a miracle. The boulders weren’t feeling very firm either. I slithered over them and got on the edge just in time to see the truck and one of the smaller boulders – the one the truck door had been jammed against – pull loose and slide down the gouge and then over a precipice that had been created by the erosion.

I don’t think I’ve ever seen anything like what is happening. I knew that I’d need to investigate further up creek but it wouldn’t be this night. I had supplies to get back to the cabin. I had to “leap frog” everything back. Not only did it cause me a lot of extra steps, I had to make sure those steps wouldn’t been trackable. The rain that continued to fall in spurts about every thirty minutes or so would help with that but I still tried to leave as little evidence as possible.

Once I got back to the old homeplace site … I gotta figure out something different to call it … moving everything became easier. I did not say easy, just easier. I finally managed to get everything to the gate and I was about done. Even the inside of my mouth felt caked with mud and I was out of water. I walked around to the back and Beau was sitting out there waiting on me.

# # # # # # # # # #

One surprised and then outraged look was all I got before …

“Dammit Keegan, you told me you wouldn’t get close,” Beau said, checking me over for every imagined ding and bruise. “You’re soaked to the skin and covered head to toe in mud. What did you do? Fall in? Wind up in a mudslide? Did anyone see you or chase you? Dammit, are you okay? Say something already!”

“Water.”

“Whu?”

“Water. Drink. Something. Anything.”

I sat down on the edge of the stone porch and in no time he had a bottle of water in my hand. The first sip I swirled in my mouth and then spit out. Took another swig … and then downed half the bottle.

“Thanks,” I rasped out, finally catching my breath.

“Are you okay?” Beau asked getting down on my level for another checkover.

“I’m fine. Dead dog tired but … I’m fine. I’ve got some stuff at the gate I need to bring around here and …”

“I’ll get it.”

“It’s covered in mud and it is starting to rain again.”

“I won’t melt.”

Rather than fight him I accepted the help and whispered my story as we carted everything to the cover of the porch.

He’d grown worried when he saw emergency lights down on the highway. About the same time he surmised they were setting up a road block but he couldn’t tell if it was on 515 or on Rock Creek Rd.

“If I have to assume, it is Rock Creek Rd. Unless there is more slipping or a larger mudslide then it could be 515 as well. I’ve never seen anything like this. My grandfather never told me any kind of story like this and he knew a lot of local history. I know the waterfall … or what used to be the falls … was more active with a year ‘round flow before they put in some of the roads and flattened some of the tops for buildings but …”

“You okay?”

“You keep asking that,” I told him.

“’Cause it bears asking. Standing under the roof line has only washed some of the mud away.”

“I just needed it out of my hear. My head felt like a twenty-pound bowling ball.”

“Well you’re shaking now. Just go take a shower and …”

“I’ll drag this stuff through the house and clog the drain. I’m going to have to rinse my clothes before they get washed anyway. Uh …”

It was more than a little embarrassing, but I needed help. I stripped out of my muddy clothes and used the rain barrel and roof run off to get 90% clean. Rather than get clean clothes dirty just so I could walk through the cabin and take a real shower, Beau helped me wrap up in an oversized towel. I was still listing to the side a bit, I really was tired, and finally got over my embarrassment enough to come out of my room looking for a warm drink.

“Chai?”

I jumped a mile.

“You should be in bed. The kids are going to be on you in just a couple of hours.”

“Keegan …”

“Yeah?”

“Look at me please.” I did and he continued, “You’re a beautiful woman and I ain’t apologizing for the effect it had on me. But at least you can see I didn’t jump on you.”

I snorted. “You’re a good-looking man Beau and stereotypes being what they are, at least I haven’t been using you as a scratching post.” I shook my head at the deer-in-the-headlights look he gave me. “Really?”

He finally started chuckling quietly. “I fergit, you’re a modern female.”

“Not the way you are looking at it.” I sighed. “Beau, I needed help. You gave it to me with no strings attached. I might not accept such help from any other man but …”

“But that don’t mean either one of us is ready for where we could have taken it. Let’s leave it at that. Need a fire?”

I shook my head. “I … I think I’ll go lay down for a bit.”

“Good idea. And Keegan?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t take them kinda chances again … please. All that stuff you brought back is good to have. But … it’s better that you came back.”
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
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Chapter 46​



I was wrong. It wasn’t just Rock Creek Rd., Hwy 515 was closed for days while they had people in State Prison Garb wearing what looked like hunter-orange vests using shovels to clear the slide that had made it all the way to the highway from the original “Gouge”. It looked like one of the old “chain gangs” from black and white movies. The inmates were chained together by two’s and three’s. Must have been interesting trying to get them to work together like that. I hesitate to judge the inmates, no way to say what they were arrested for, but it looked like mostly immigrants of some flavor. Guessing – and hating the way this sounds – I think they were illegals that either didn’t self-deport or were caught before they could do so. It was a common theme in California before I left. It looked like it might be just as true through the entire country at this point.

As for the damage they were clearing, from our vantage point we could see how it was a flash flood of mud that ripped out anything in its path. It hit the highway, took out the post office, crossed the railroad tracks, and made it as far as Bates Rd. where there is … or should I say was … a chicken farm. On this side of the highway, Rock Creek Church was taken off its foundation (had to use a telescope to see the damage after hearing about it on the radio). The cemetery next to the church is under several feet of mud so no telling how much damage was done to all the old headstones. One of the houses next to the church was demolished and the house on the other side of that took some damage but we can’t tell how much, just that there is yellow caution tape all around it. Radio says they aren’t sure how long to get the railroad tracks repaired but it is a major north south route so it will have to be done sooner rather than later … or so assumes the people broadcasting.

What does all this mean for us? It means we are cut off. It means Fish and Wildlife as well as the Rangers for the national forest are going to have people stationed to make sure hunters and/or poachers can’t use the highway to get up and do what they were doing. The GA National Guard makes the occasional drive by to check things out, but they are mostly in use in Atlanta that is still sucking up most of the disaster money here in Georgia.

What does “cut off” mean? Nothing bad if that is what we really and truly are. I have my doubts. Locals will know how to bypass most road blocks. When your family is hungry, a little thing like a roadblock doesn’t mean much. I also worry about drones but we haven’t seen many, at least not anything big enough for us to see. My one concern is that being the only people up this way – we assume – is that any evidence I leave during my foraging is going to stand out. As a matter of fact any evidence of habitation will stand out. We are figuring out how to camouflage all of the wood we are gathering and will need. It can be so quiet up here that the sound of any kind of chopping, or the manual log splitter, is going to be problematic.

Radio claims that some bodies have been found as the water recedes a bit and the mud is cleared away. Some of those bodies have yet to be identified and are suspected to have been staying in some of the supposedly empty cabins above the falls area. Generally, there is a question why they aren’t using helicopters or drones to see if there is anyone that needs rescuing. The answer? One, that’s when we found out that most resources are dedicated to Atlanta. Period. And don’t ask again or there could be problems. Two, the entire area has pretty much been triaged. What that means for town I’m not sure but for people – assuming there is anyone – breaking the law and “squatting” in areas that had been closed off it means zero assistance. It was news to me that they were closing off areas.

“Let me guess, you want to go check out those cabins above the falls,” Beau said in resignation.

“It needs to be done. I want to make sure that the Gouge that formed isn’t going to push people this way. We know it has blocked in a few passels of hogs on this side and that’s going to bring hunters just as soon as they can figure a way around Fish & Wildlife.”

Playing along Beau said, “We know all the cabins this way are empty.”

“Yeah, for what that’s worth. I make a run by them once a week just to make sure, but if people are looking for a place to squat …”

“You missed the news while you were out gathering them wild grapes.” Rather than leaving me in suspense he said, “They’re not letting people leave the cities. And I’m not just talking about Atlanta. Any city with a population above five thousand now requires you to get a federal permit – some long drawn out process – in order for you to move. And you can only move to another city that has given you permission to move there or onto a federal work program slot … like agriculture to replace the migrants that aren’t as eager to work since they ain’t making any kids to turn into anchor babies to get entitlements from. Rumor has it you can’t even leave the city limits without a pass which has to be screwing with transportation of goods and services. You get caught violating the new fed regs and you get shipped to a work farm until you come to trial … no bail. Only alternative to that is joining the military … not the national guard, the military. Minimum two-year commitment.”

I could have let a lot of words fly but it isn’t like we hadn’t said them already. Instead, all I said was, “Well, that’s new.”

“Part of what my uncle would have called the old Fifteen-Minute-City plans to keep people in central locations to make them easier to control.”

“Doesn’t change that this is a new strategy.”

Beau shrugged, “Next attempt at using an old strategy that didn’t work the first … or second … time around.”

This time it was me that shrugged before asking, “Are you sure about the military part of it? Or is it just people bumping their gums because they have too much time on their hands.”

“Well, you’re in a mood.”

I forced myself to relax. “Sorry. Not directed at you.”

He surprised me by stepping over and putting his hands on my shoulders and then slowly messaging them. “You’re stressed out about something.”

Taking a deep breath I admitted, “I was trying to do what you suggested, take time to write to relieve some stress or whatever it is I’m feeling, but all I could do was make lists, imagine plots, and feel inadequate. I’m not doing enough.”

“That’s a whoa right there. You go out nearly every day or night. You always bring something …”

“I need to bring back more. More forage. More wood. More intel for you to work with.”

He pulled me back against him. “Don’t Keegan.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t get so wound up you do something crazy. There’s a lot going on. We both know it. We’ve both also noticed that the subject of Pure Bloods has dropped out of the news. It’s making both of us itchy.”

I felt his arms going around me. Not to stop me but … to comfort me.

He continued, “You’re used to being able to get on the computer and find out what you want to know. There’s just no good way to do that right now. I can’t ask questions on the radio either. Too dangerous. I have to wait until a subject comes up and hope they talk about it in a way that I don’t have to do too much guessing. That’s getting harder. Some of them act like they are talking in code. I don’t know why they’ve switched but it has to be for some other reason than just to get their rocks off in a game. I know you want to run into people and overhear things – to confirm things I’ve been hearing, or explain them - but … it’s too dangerous. So … don’t. Please.”

It was the please that got me. I turned in his arms but didn’t move out of them. I told him, “I couldn’t do what you do. Wait. Be patient. Take a few bits of information to add to the picture we’re building. I’m used to my muse riding me with nine-point spurs. When I needed information, it was right there, at my fingertips … either on the computer or using my phone to find someone with experience. This … this … whatever you want to call it. Maybe a game is the right word to use. I’m … struggling. But, I promise, I’m not going to hare off and do something stupid.”

He was surprised when I leaned into his loose hug, then his arms tightened just enough. Some of the crazy went away, left me alone, left me with a clearer head.

“They’re going to start a war, may have already started one for all we know. Maybe not today or tomorrow but the minimum two-year commitment gives a maximum timeline.”

He said, “Yeah. Probably. We’re gonna need to be careful because it is likely going to be a war on our own soil this time. Can’t tell yet if it is going to be a civil war … not enough noise or complaints that I can hear. News folks aren’t targeting anyone like they were the Pure Bloods. Mostly they are talking about other countries trying to take advantage of us … as in the US. It don’t sound financial though. They’re starting to pull out the patriotic rhetoric. That’s worrisome right there. Too many will fall for it.” I could feel him getting his own version of stressed, and I slowly put my arms around him.

He asked, “You doing that to distract me?”

“I’m … I’m trying to say that … I want to give back to you what you give to me.”

“Oh yeah?” he asked, and I could hear the surprise in his voice.

“Yes. Just … just …”

“Take it easy Keegan. We got time for things to build. To build them the right way.”

“Do we? That’s part of what is … is making me think. Making me wonder. I’m … I’m fine with it being the two of us against whatever is out there. I’m not okay with being fine with that but … sorry, that sounded stupid.”

“Nope. Sounds like you’re thinking. That’s more than what I shoulda expected after Uncle Finis planned me into a damn corner. I’ll take thinking about what can be over thinking of a way to get out of it any day of the week.”

We moved apart when we heard the kids tromping down the stairs like a herd of elephants. That brought me back to reality. The man had kids. He had responsibilities that came before what our “thinks” might be. And I had agreed to be part of helping him with his responsibilities, not about creating more of them. As they dragged him back upstairs to help them with some project or other, I turned to my desk, a place I’d always found peace, and decided I needed to push harder. The cabins, more wood, and I needed to forage what I could before the end of August … before the feral hogs and other animals got everything in preparation for the cold weather that would be coming whether we were ready for it or not.
 
F

Freebirde

Senior Member
I don't remember if the basement had a fireplace or stove, but I heard a properly build rocket mass heater will emit little heat and no smoke out of the flue. With the mass of the house above it, there will be very little thermal signature to be detected, unless the drone is almost ground level and scanning sideways. They would not be looking that hard unless they already think you are there.
 
Kathy in FL

Kathy in FL

Administrator
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Chapter 47​


Putting my “more” plans in motion, I concentrated primarily on forage to start with. I needed to stop getting “other focused”. When cold weather comes it can give me time for the brain space and time for “planned adventures”. I needed to take care of needs before wants. And Beau was right, running into other people wasn’t something I should be looking for.

For what remained of August I hunted kudzu[1], the young leaves for a spinach-like or collard greens-like greens for the dinner table and for canning. The flowers I turned into extract, jams, jellies, and cocktails[2]. The kudzu bugs[3] were bad this year so everything had to be soaked and cleaned really well before I could do anything with it. I did it outside to keep their stink out of the cabin but in general they are a nuisance, and this is the worst I’d ever seen them. But that wasn’t the only trouble I was having with the kudzu.

The reason why I called it “hunting” kudzu is because any large, spreading areas of kudzu growth were suspect, especially on the lower reaches of the slopes. The government was spraying all the kudzu it could find. They claimed it was because it was snuffing out the natural growth that prevented erosion. Kudzu was actually brought into this country to help prevent erosion, it just grew too well. Maybe Samantha rubbed off on me more than I want to admit, but my first thought was the government was taking away an easy to access food. Why would people be foraging that didn’t normally? Desperate enough to eat kudzu? What most people considered a nuisance or goat forage or even poisonous to humans? Beau figured out that some of the code games the radio operators were playing were because the government was starting to institute “programs” to force people to move out of rural areas and into cities. Small towns were also being targeted. Some suburbs were in the clear, but mainly because they were being enveloped into larger cities, or into cities they were the bedroom communities for.

Cherry Log’s lone grocery store was closed not long after the mudslide. At first it was said to be because the slide was creating restocking issues. Then that spread to Ellijay and Blue Ridge. We heard that the only grocery stores open with normal operating hours were in places like Atlanta, Augusta, Macon, Valdosta, Athens, Rome, and other city center type places. “Supply depots” were opening but they were within those types of city’s boundaries and required a “day pass” to access. You could only request and be granted a pass on the day you were going to use it. It meant having all of your documentation and standing in line for who knows how long and hoping you were granted the pass in time to use it or you were SOL and had to start the process all over the next day.

The next thing going down is that they were preventing people living inside the “supplied zones” from importing anything from non-residents of the zones. That means that even if you got a day pass out to visit family or friends, and during that time you went hunting or were given food by family that did so on your behalf, you could be arrested if you were caught “importing disallowed and illegal items.” Yeah, food was considered an “illegal import.” That had absolutely nothing to do with Pure Bloods no matter what they called us.

The wild blueberries were really thick this year. I didn’t even have to go too far down the slopes to find them. And I harvested as soon as I found a patch so I wouldn’t have to lose sleep over whether they would be there the next day. I wasn’t doing battle with only the hogs and deer and turkey; the birds were pretty ferocious as well. I was mobbed by a particularly nasty flock of crows … or do they call them a murder of crows? Whatever. Those jobbers are mean. I still managed to bring in many quarts of them but mostly because I harvested outside the time the crows were out in their territory.

I got lucky and found more huckleberries and chokecherries when I went into a new to me area. Not as many as I used to gather with my grandparents, so I was glad they weren’t the only fruit I was foraging. I was happy that the old grove of Pawpaw trees[4] were still there and I gathered all that I could every time I passed by them. A lot of the elderberries[5] I knew … or used to … were washed away by all of the expanding creeks and rivers. Lucky for me as I went upstream, above the falls the damage to the banks wasn’t quite as bad as I expected and I found more. Not to say there wasn’t damaged. I found where two cabins had been washed off their foundations and over the falls.

Wild plums[6] were numerous in places, but not where I was used to foraging with my grandparents. The trees had made but it looked like the deer had found them. I found a couple of old apricot trees that were planted for decoration in the dooryards of a cabin that didn’t appear to be your typical vacation rental. First, it was old. Not as old as my grandparents’ place but certainly up there. Inside was decorated more like summer camp rather than nice enough to draw return customers. It has a pretty severe carpenter bee problem and it wasn’t stocked like a vacation rental either … no linens or paper goods or pots and pans. What it did have was a wood pile in a lean to and a bucket of granulated Snake Away that made me cautious when I started to bring that pile back a bundle at a time.

The apples were a bust. All the rain has created a very bad problem. And not just around here. There is rumor or gossip or whatever you want to call what Beau hears on the radio that all up and down the Blue Ridge Parkway and in the Smokey Mtns. and all the way up into New York, that the apple harvest just hasn’t been worth anything. Supposedly it is so bad that it even made national and international news and has caused “apple futures” to scare the crap out of the stock market. That might be someone’s idea of a joke or exaggeration. No way of knowing right now. But just extrapolating from what we can prove, the lack of an apple harvest is going to cause some serious economic hardships.

The dessert pears were at least as bad. What fruit that has made is over-soft and rots quickly. The deer will take one bite, it gets pulled off the tree and falls to the ground, and then they go onto the next one. Animals are getting into the fallen fruit but hard to tell what is doing the most damage; raccoons, bears, or feral hogs. I know most people think of bears as carnivorous but they are omnivores and my grandfather explained that 90% of the brown bear’s diet is made up of plants of some type. I know we lost several mushroom patches to bears. They also liked berries of all types. I wasn’t used to seeing them get into the apple trees, that’s more of a deer thing to do, but prints and scat told me if they weren’t eating the fallen fruit from the apple and pear trees they were playing in it for some reason. Or maybe they there the ones knocking the fruit down scratching their butts on the tree trunks.

Speaking of the feral hogs, they are getting fat and sassy. Because of all the food, and the fact they weren’t being hunted, they didn’t act quite as mean. I gave them a wide berth anyway. The tuskers could act crazy if they felt threatened. They needed to be thinned out or there was going to be worse problems with erosion over the winter and into spring. In some areas they were starting to root up and girdle the trees.

I think I’ve finally picked the last of the blackberries. They were big this year. I brought back enough that in addition to all other things blackberry, I canned almost three dozen pints of blackberry shrub. Grandmother always did three times that many but it is because she had domesticated hedge rows of them and she sold a lot of her stock to a friend that put it out at the Apple Festival every year.

The Asian pears have done better than the apples and dessert pears. I’m not sure why. My personal logic would say they would have done just as bad but maybe there are resistant to whatever are getting the other two. I’m not going to complain. The more I can forage – and most of those came from an old homestead where the trees are mostly played out and needing to be replaced – the less we have to use our “boughten” supplies.

I surprised Beau by starting to set snares and trying to bring home some meat every couple of days. And he surprised me by being proficient at bow hunting. I came home to find he’d gotten a turkey the same day I’d brought home a couple of quail. We cleaned them together. The only part I don’t care for is getting the feathers off. It has been a while since I’d done it and never by myself except in stories.

“I’ll do it,” Beau offered.

“No. I need to get back in the swing of things. I need to do more.”

“There’s that word again,” he said slowing shaking his head.

Beau has a thing or three to say about it when I bring up needing to do more. I personally don’t see the problem. He’s worried about me burning out or doing something “crazy”. I’ve learned to keep those thoughts to myself but the look he occasionally gives me lets me know he knows that I’m thinking them.

I found a couple of midget peach trees decorating around the “club house” of what was built on my grandparents’ land. They’re pretty pitiful but the deer hadn’t found them and they must be fairly cold hardy because I don’t remember peaches growing this far up slope. I still got a bucket of them. Certainly nothing to write up on my resume but something was better than nothing and on that day nothing was all I was finding. It’s why I’ve had to stretch out my “foraging territory” to find the “more” that I know I need to be bringing in. That’s also when I decided that I needed to stop delaying and check out those other cabins above the falls.


[1] The Weird and Wonderful Ways You Can Cook with Kudzu (Really!)
[2] Kudzu Flower & Muscadine Wine – Pixie's Pocket
[3] Kudzu Bugs - A Nuisance and Agricultural Pest | NC State Extension Publications
[4] How To Preserve Pawpaw Fruit - Fruits Knowledge World
[5] Elderberries: How to Harvest, Preserve & Use (+Free Printable Cheat Sheet!) - Unruly Gardening
[6] The Complete Guide to Foraging and Harvesting Wild Plums
 
Sportsman

Sportsman

Veteran Member
Thank you. Often wish that I still lived in an area full of fruit to forage. My last homestead was near a state forest and I planted some stealth gardens that worked well. No one (I could tell) ever discovered the little patches of beets, greens, or even potatoes. Now, I'd be more worried about grow operations in the area.
 
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