Good Fortune
My friend down the road, H., the gun enthusiast, sees me as being an unlucky person. He says that it seems to him that I always get it in the neck.
I admit that I have suffered a number of bad setbacks now and then, but there have also been quite a few bright moments.
The most obvious must be that I've managed to stick around this long and do not yet need a motorized chair. Another is that I've always had sense enough to be able to spot an abysmal U.S. President when I see one, like the present person, and the integrity never to have voted for one, which makes me more fortunate in that respect than the majority of my fellow citizens. And there are other things, but the one I want to talk about right now is my fuel supply.
Aside from a few small electric heaters, our only source of heat is a big wood-burning soapstone stove. This means that every year in the Fall I have to expend a lot of my time and effort and the dwindling daylight to go out in the woods for weeks of wood calculations, cutting, splitting, hauling, and stacking.
Many might look on that as dire straits right there, especially because of the risk involved, which only increases with age. This risk is in wielding a chain saw, and along with that all the highly dangerous dynamics of felling trees. That is usually necessary, despite all the dead wood still standing as well as sprawling across the forest floor, and even a small tree can do unacceptable damage. But despite my fears, I still see it all as a stroke of the rarest good fortune.
It means that I am alone in the woods for long periods when I don't have to hear or witness any nonsense except my own, because no one would ever follow me in there to inflict me with it. And those woods are more beautiful than the most celebrated cathedral or any other building. The ground is soft, the birds are singing, the colors are resplendent, the air has that fresh woodsy scent, the temperature is just right, and the shapes of everything are interesting and harmonious.
The aspect of this in which I am perhaps most fortunate of all is that I get a lot of exercise, fresh air, and well-filtered sunlight. And, unlike people walking, jogging, running, and working out on Bowflexes and all those other weird exercise machines, at the end of the day I have something to show for my efforts in addition to the health aspects. I have a big beautiful stack of wood to keep us comfortably warm through another winter, even -- I hope -- if the worst aspects of a "Day After" should suddenly strike.
I admit that I have suffered a number of bad setbacks now and then, but there have also been quite a few bright moments.
The most obvious must be that I've managed to stick around this long and do not yet need a motorized chair. Another is that I've always had sense enough to be able to spot an abysmal U.S. President when I see one, like the present person, and the integrity never to have voted for one, which makes me more fortunate in that respect than the majority of my fellow citizens. And there are other things, but the one I want to talk about right now is my fuel supply.
Aside from a few small electric heaters, our only source of heat is a big wood-burning soapstone stove. This means that every year in the Fall I have to expend a lot of my time and effort and the dwindling daylight to go out in the woods for weeks of wood calculations, cutting, splitting, hauling, and stacking.
Many might look on that as dire straits right there, especially because of the risk involved, which only increases with age. This risk is in wielding a chain saw, and along with that all the highly dangerous dynamics of felling trees. That is usually necessary, despite all the dead wood still standing as well as sprawling across the forest floor, and even a small tree can do unacceptable damage. But despite my fears, I still see it all as a stroke of the rarest good fortune.
It means that I am alone in the woods for long periods when I don't have to hear or witness any nonsense except my own, because no one would ever follow me in there to inflict me with it. And those woods are more beautiful than the most celebrated cathedral or any other building. The ground is soft, the birds are singing, the colors are resplendent, the air has that fresh woodsy scent, the temperature is just right, and the shapes of everything are interesting and harmonious.
The aspect of this in which I am perhaps most fortunate of all is that I get a lot of exercise, fresh air, and well-filtered sunlight. And, unlike people walking, jogging, running, and working out on Bowflexes and all those other weird exercise machines, at the end of the day I have something to show for my efforts in addition to the health aspects. I have a big beautiful stack of wood to keep us comfortably warm through another winter, even -- I hope -- if the worst aspects of a "Day After" should suddenly strike.
posted by Carl (aka Sofarsogoo) | 6:49 PM
3 Comments:
Well, when you're done you can come to Minnesota and cut some wood for my fire place! I'm just too darn lazy to go through all that work.
Sorry, Guy Andrew, but no. Too MUCH work! Virginia has a long period when there's no need to heat the house. It's called late spring, summer, and early fall. Minnesota, from what I've heard, never experiences any of that. All you have, I'm told, is that one day in July that they played baseball.
Ouch, ouch, ouch, Ouch! Darn, I think my nose is bleeding after that smack.
Ok, I surrender before your superious wit. I bow before you-I am not worthy, I am not worthy, I am not worthy
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