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Wood is pretty damn tough.... I kinda got tired just thinking about what ya did.
Yeah the chainsaw thing is very true for sure. There was a wood freak that used to live behind me up in Buie….guy was always cutting and splitting. He was adamant about quality hand files and ONLY THREE strokes of the file per tooth, never more than that.
Tried splitting some logs with some axes yesterday. Took forever and only made it through about half of them. At one point I had a splitting maul head I was using as a wedge; but one bad swing with the Sledge hammer ended that.
Borrowed a pole saw from a neighbor to trim some branches, then borrowed a word chipper from another neighbor to help it all fit into my compost better.
Ya ever been splitting logs and have a shard fly towards your shin at mach speed?
No shit, I had that happen once......took a few minutes to cool off and regain the positive log splitting attitude, and it happened again on the same shin 5 minutes later.
I looked up into the sky after cussing and such, dropped the axe and called it day at that point.
You have very helpful neighbors.Quote:
Originally Posted by Irving
Careful talking about chainsaws around these parts.Quote:
Originally Posted by Fentonite
[LOL]
Oh wow, WTF did I hit 10K post?
Shows how much attention I pay.
Actually you didn't. Stu and i felt like some post count redistribution this weekend. You're one of the recipients.Quote:
Originally Posted by brutal
No problem with the shards, but part of the first tree I cut down was rotten and full of bugs (termites?). Sprayed the bugs up my shorts and somehow under my shirt. Several hours later, I was still squirming around and pulling them from parts better left unsaid.Quote:
Originally Posted by Otterbatcat
Memorial Day..... a letter from a Civil War Soldier to his wife:
July the 14th, 1861
Washington D.C.
My very dear Sarah:
The indications are very strong that we shall move in a few days—perhaps tomorrow. Lest I should not be able to write you again, I feel impelled to write lines that may fall under your eye when I shall be no more.
Our movement may be one of a few days duration and full of pleasure—and it may be one of severe conflict and death to me. Not my will, but thine O God, be done. If it is necessary that I should fall on the battlefield for my country, I am ready. I have no misgivings about, or lack of confidence in, the cause in which I am engaged, and my courage does not halt or falter. I know how strongly American Civilization now leans upon the triumph of the Government, and how great a debt we owe to those who went before us through the blood and suffering of the Revolution. And I am willing—perfectly willing—to lay down all my joys in this life, to help maintain this Government, and to pay that debt.
But, my dear wife, when I know that with my own joys I lay down nearly all of yours, and replace them in this life with cares and sorrows—when, after having eaten for long years the bitter fruit of orphanage myself, I must offer it as their only sustenance to my dear little children—is it weak or dishonorable, while the banner of my purpose floats calmly and proudly in the breeze, that my unbounded love for you, my darling wife and children, should struggle in fierce, though useless, contest with my love of country.
Sarah, my love for you is deathless, it seems to bind me to you with mighty cables that nothing but Omnipotence could break; and yet my love of Country comes over me like a strong wind and bears me irresistibly on with all these chains to the battlefield.
The memories of the blissful moments I have spent with you come creeping over me, and I feel most gratified to God and to you that I have enjoyed them so long. And hard it is for me to give them up and burn to ashes the hopes of future years, when God willing, we might still have lived and loved together and seen our sons grow up to honorable manhood around us. I have, I know, but few and small claims upon Divine Providence, but something whispers to me—perhaps it is the wafted prayer of my little Edgar—that I shall return to my loved ones unharmed. If I do not, my dear Sarah, never forget how much I love you, and when my last breath escapes me on the battlefield, it will whisper your name.
Forgive my many faults, and the many pains I have caused you. How thoughtless and foolish I have often been! How gladly would I wash out with my tears every little spot upon your happiness, and struggle with all the misfortune of this world, to shield you and my children from harm. But I cannot. I must watch you from the spirit land and hover near you, while you buffet the storms with your precious little freight, and wait with sad patience till we meet to part no more.
But, O Sarah! If the dead can come back to this earth and flit unseen around those they loved, I shall always be near you; in the brightest day and in the darkest night—amidst your happiest scenes and gloomiest hours—always, always; and if there be a soft breeze upon your cheek, it shall be my breath; or the cool air fans your throbbing temple, it shall be my spirit passing by.
Sarah, do not mourn me dead; think I am gone and wait for me, for we shall meet again.
As for my little boys, they will grow as I have done, and never know a father's love and care. Little Willie is too young to remember me long, and my blue-eyed Edgar will keep my frolics with him among the dimmest memories of his childhood. Sarah, I have unlimited confidence in your maternal care and your development of their characters. Tell my two mothers his and hers I call God's blessing upon them. O Sarah, I wait for you there! Come to me, and lead thither my children.
Sullivan