Mike,
Murray, and I went to the farm again on Thursday (Feb. 12). The guys lifted
heavy limbs into the bed of our old pick-up. I helped some with the slash, but
I couldn’t do the heavy lifting. I felt a little useless.
Mike says 100 feet of this tree lies on the ground. That doesn't count the snag that still stands. It's 100 years old, so we'll say it came to be about 1920, perhaps as the family was setting into their new house.
At some point it had rained, and the mud was even worse than heretofore. I wear “duck boots,”
and I carried them back to town to be cleaned under force of water. If the ground is going to freeze, I think the temps will have to drop and stay below freezing for a while. It was 45 Thursday afternoon.
So
now, much of the work has been transferred to town. Mike unloaded the wood
to be cut into lengths for firewood. Naturally, it’s green, so it won’t be
ready to burn for a while.
And that’s about all I have to say. Sometimes when the work is demanding, all you can say is that you worked hard. In the end, it might be rewarding, but it’s not fun while you’re going through it.
I suppose I should add that the contractor had been there and started the repair to the ceiling in the master bathroom. And we found only one mouse in trap. KW

