Tuesday, April 17, 2012

as I see it

It’s like this past winter, only warmer. One day it’s damp, blustery, the next day there’s brilliant sunshine, the next day it’s something else altogether. There is no stability to the weather these days. Every day is up for grabs.

Take Tuesday. Storms? Wind? Don’t know anything about that. A tad cool, but stunningly bright. And calm. Ed calls the fire department.
Any chance of getting a burn permit?
Sure!
Whoa! We’ve got piles upon piles to burn, to make way for the newly developing orchard!

Except, not so fast. Ed is still working on his taxes and I have my job to do. Good luck pal, I wave to Ed and scoot off on Rosie.

Oh oh. Rosie has no gas.

Suffer not the details of this morning with me. Suffice it to say that I am late for class. Three minutes. For me – an unpardonable teaching moment. (I am never, ever late.)

Rosie, you old girl, you weren’t even seriously out of gas! I should have known! You flash warnings when you’re half full! You little attention grabber you!


But, the day grows more interesting, more likable, pleasurable, -- in short, better.

I love my classes. I wont talk about how or why or what may have been the reason behind this, but I do want to note here that there are days when everything falls into place and you just love your work.

So there’s that.


After, Ed and I are primed to meet at Paul’s café, but we're both anxious to burn our honeysuckle and other comparable wood debris. A permit, after all! Who knows when another may be offered!

By the time I turn into the driveay, Ed is done with taxes (not really, but he thinks at that moment that he is done) and the fire is picking up force.


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I want to help, but it's so hot, so very hot by the blaze. Remove layers, dig in your heals and start heaving. Pile limbs, put out spot fires, push branches onto the raging fire.



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Brutal work. I remember burning branches for the Ice Age trail this winter. A fine job in the middle of the cold months. Less so now and especially when you worry (I worry) about embers flying away from under your control.

Hours later, the sun moves to a lower position, the fire dies down.


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We plant another cherry (four to go!), heave dirt, remove boulders, throw water at the grasses around the dying blaze.


It's been a very very long day.

Kashi frozen dinners, chocolate covered raisins. Call it dinner, call it food without heart, but it is the way it is today.

Tomorrow – oh, tomorrow will be different. I promise that.


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