By the Author of Dear Diary: It’s Me, Jessica Find the previous chapter here. Dear Diary, It’s me, Jessica. The weather has been crazy!  It got cold and snowed heavy for three days.  Jack was the only one with snowshoes.  Twice a day, he would make paths through the snow to pack it down so we could at least walk to others’ homes if we had to.  At first, I did not think the paths would do much, but when I tried to walk off the paths, it was like trying to walk in wet sand versus walking on a sidewalk.  The clouds were really dark.  We needed to light candles an hour before sunset.   Then for three days, it warmed up into the fifties and sunny.  With the snow, it was so bright I had to wear sunglasses.  By the end of the third day, most of the snow was gone.  The next day it began to rain.  A cold, rain that made everyone just want to stay home in front of a good fire under a big fluffy blanket on the couch and read a book.   Diary, it is funny, I was never much of a book reader before the power went out.  Now, I read everything.  We will even trade with others for books to read.  We talk about books we like or did not like.  I also keep an eye out for books to read in class.  We sometimes watch a movie on Mom’s laptop, but I think I like reading a book by the fire, and she plays music instead.   Seems so strange the hours I used to watch videos on my phone of people doing dumb things, cute or silly videos of dogs or cats.   How much time did I waste? Entry two In one of the abandoned homes, Dad found a bunch of stock pipe of different sizes and lengths, fittings, and tools.  The owner must have been a pipe fitter.  Dad used four, ten-foot lengths of pipe, and used a manual hydraulic pipe-bending tool to bend the first two lengths at a ninety-degree bend at the halfway point.  Then he did the same with the other two lengths.  He then connected and secured them with something called two-part epoxy and crimp fittings.  The upper length of the pipe would attach to the rear of my saddle.  It would then extend just past my horse’s hindquarters, bend downward to where the fittings met the other pipe, and bend back horizontally with the ground, but now at the height of my horse’s knee joint.  Dad then bent other pipes to form a frame for a pull behind carriage with enough room for supplies and in the very back, a bench seat for two people to sit.  From two fat-tire mountain bikes, he took the wheels and front suspension forks and attached them to the carriage, with the suspension forks and rear wheels mounted under the bench seat to absorb any bumps on the road.  Now we could carry more supplies than just on foot or in saddlebags on a horse.  And, Jack and Dad, or anyone else who could not ride a horse, could come along. The next day we met up with Katie and her bunch to make the trip to the mid-way point to meet up with Jamal and his group for trade.   Katie was so impressed with Dad’s carriage that she and Dad haggled for him to make her three carriages in exchange for tack for my horse.  They shook on it.  I now had not only a horse but my own tack.  Dad could see how happy I was. We stopped on our way through Four Corners to see if anyone had anything they wanted us to trade on their behalf.  We could not make any promises but would do our best.  As we crossed the bridge, we now had several loaves of bread and a dozen live chickens strung upside down attached to the cart.   Katie alternated between a trot and a canter, quickly eating up the distance.  We arrived well before noon, but was surprised to find Jamal and his group already there.   While we tended to the horses, Jack and Dad got out of the cart to greet Jamal. “You must have left the city before dawn to be here now,” Jack commented as they shook hands. “Shorter days, wanted to be here early to get back before dark.” “Smart thinking.  Lets get to it then and get you back on the road,”  Jack nodded. Just as HAM Guy had said, Jamal and his group had cartons of cigarettes, bags of coffee, candy, gum, tubes and bags of chips, and a few bags of cough drops.   In exchange, they got several bottles of Jack’s alcohol, the bread, chickens, a few slabs of cured and smoked bacon, cuts of beef, and sausages.   While others conducted trade, I asked Jamal how things were at their new location. “Better, I think.  We found a fire station that we are using as our new home.  Reinforced the first floor, have a good overlook in all directions from the upper floors.  Keeping a low profile to not attract attention.  We are further out than we have scavenged before, that is how we found the gas station and these supplies.” “Any people?” “We catch glimpses of children now and then.  They take off as soon as they know we see them.  Never get a long enough look or close enough to get an idea of their age.  With the lack of food, their growth could be stunted.  No adults that we know or have seen.” “Sad.” “Yeah, think they have gone wild.” Once trade had finished, Jamal and his group, eager to be off, thanked us and, with a wave, set out to hump it back home, pushing grocery carts or pulling garden wagons with their trade.   No one was really sure if one got the better of the other.  If we did not eat the candy ourselves but used it for another trade at Four Corners only then would we be able to say if we got a good deal or not.  Dad was not going to trade for the coffee he got!  All in all, everyone seemed happy with the trade. Entry three I was eager in anticipation, sitting at the kitchen table.  The smell of some of Dad’s cured and smoked bacon frying filled the kitchen.  Mom was now making eggs.   And there it was:  The smell of freshly brewed coffee, in the French press, steeping.  Mom had an old egg timer sitting next to the stove.  After what seemed like an eternity, the egg time bell went, “Ding!” The coffee was ready.  It smelled heavenly.   Dad pressed the plunger and then poured three cups, one for each of us.  We had some cream, and Mom even got out sugar.  We mixed the cream and sugar to our own liking, and then almost as one, we all took a sip.  And then we all sighed in unison of contentment.   “It is the little things in life,” Dad said, smiling down into his cup. “Never thought I would relish coffee this much,” Mom said. I just took another sip. “Can we reuse the coffee grounds,” Mom asked Dad. “Well, I read during Nazi-occupied Warsaw, Poland, in the ghetto, when they could get coffee, they would reuse the grounds three or four times to the point it got to be more like coffee-flavored tea.” “We will try it,” Mom said with a degree of determination in her voice. After breakfast, Dad went to work on building the pull-behind carts for Katie, as agreed.  On our way to the mid-point to trade with Jamal, Dad noted the performance of the cart he and Jack were riding in, making mental notes for improvements.  For Dad, those improvements were tweaks here and there with not much more work.  The problem was finding more fat tires from the bicycles.  The ones he found were hanging upside down in the garage of the abandoned house.  For everyone else, bicycles were too valuable to just give up or even trade for.  Dad said we might have to see if Jamal can find us some for trade or, we might have to go to the city ourselves.   Diary, after the night firefight with the other city gang, the encounter with the big brawler and his group, I am not sure how I feel about making any more trips to the city.  About 1stMarineJarHead 1stMarineJarHead is not only a former Marine, but also a former EMT-B, Wilderness EMT (courtesy of NOLS), and volunteer firefighter. He currently resides in the great white (i.e. snowy) Northeast with his wife and dogs. He raises chickens, rabbits, goats, occasionally hogs, cows and sometimes ducks. He grows various veggies and has a weird fondness for rutabagas. He enjoys reading, writing, cooking from scratch, making charcuterie, target shooting, and is currently expanding his woodworking skills. The post Dear Diary, It’s Me, Jessica: Chapter 26 (Book 2) appeared first on The Organic Prepper.