Lumberjackin'

Yesterday, I was out in the woods, clearing piles of deadfall, etc. in preparation for the chainsaw work.  There's a lot of crap out there on the new property.  We've had several large trees fall over in the last few years and they're just laying there, clogging up the paths and generally retarding progress.  So, we bought a chainsaw to deal with them.

Except in order to get to them and work, we need to clear away all the limbs and sticks and little bushes.  We also need to clear all that crap so we can chart the property line.  The black cherry tree's upper branches are right across the line.  And there's a cedar fallen across the lower part of the line.  Plus there's a stand of spicebushes down there.  It's a mess.

In the middle, we have a huge sycamore that fell over during the storm of May 2024.  That definitely needs to be chopped up.  Walking around it to get from the top of the property to the bottom is a pain in the ass.

So, yeah, chainsaw.  

Now, I'm not an idiot.  Hubs will be working the chainsaw and I will be staying the hell out of the way.  I like my appendages and he's more skilled at that stuff anyway.  But if he's doing all the chainsaw, I'll be contributing by giving him access and then helping drag the logs up the hill.  That's why I bought the sled.  

What's any of this have to do with writing?  Not much.  Well, except for the fact that all the work I did yesterday made for really ouchie hands today.  Typing this is a symphony of ouch.  I need a bucket of Aspercreme and a pound of Aleve.

Still, it's stuff that's gotta be done and we're not getting any younger.  (Okay, it doesn't HAVE TO be done.  I want it done, so I'm doing it.  It'll be so pretty when we're finished.)  Chop it up, drag it up, stack it.  Plus, it's good exercise and it gets me out of the house.  Fresh air and all that.  And eventually, all that wood will be used to heat the house.