This always cracks me up. Bigfoot was a major beloved legend in my family when I was growing up. We were both terrified of the thought of ever encountering him, while at the same time loving the idea of him.
A lot of folks ask if I have any honest-to-goodness Bigfoot encounters (rather than just some made up tall tales), and I do. I once saw him move between some trees at about a football field’s distance, below me down in a holler, one late breezy, summer afternoon, shortly after I had awakened from a nap that I had taken against a tree in the deep woods.
I got tired of carrying booze, fuel, and medicine and got the bright idea to see if a strong enough whiskey might not serve all three purposes.
#WhiskeyStoves #BoozeForFuel #PocketCooking #ThePracticalWoodsman #PleasantHillbillyPickle
For centuries, families across Britain slept in what was known as a box bed, a wooden bed built into the wall or enclosed with doors, designed to keep out the bitter cold of winter.
Far more than a place to sleep, the box bed was a practical solution in cottages where space was limited and every bit of warmth mattered. By enclosing the bed, families trapped precious heat, reduced draughts and gained a little privacy in homes where several generations often lived under one roof.
These humble beds witnessed every stage of life. Children were tucked into them at night, babies were born in them, and loved ones spent their final hours there, surrounded by family. In many cottages, the box bed even formed part of the wall itself, helping divide the living and sleeping areas of a single-room home.
To modern eyes they may seem cramped, but to those who lived through harsh winters with little comfort, the box bed was a warm, secure refuge, a simple piece of craftsmanship that helped ordinary families ...
