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Had book club breakfast this morning, "Cutting For Stone". Always a fun time, about 25% of the time went to the book discussion.
Wife and Jack Russells made me take them to the mountains to kill a tree for the Pagan Holidays (dogs kept peeing on the Festivus Pole). There are about four inches of snow up at 8000' and the wife was insistent on getting a Douglas fir this year. Funny thing that the Forest Service doesn't spend enough time growing proper trees for decorating, they're all slender and spartan looking, not stocky and incredibly full like those farm grown trees that get all their tender terminal buds sheared off every year. (That's simply ghastly - just like keeping calves immobile in small pens and feeding them milk until they are killed...)
We tramped around quite a while, wind howling and spotty snow flurries... looked at a passable Ponderosa pine, almost picked a southwestern white pine, saw a Douglas fir that was thicker in the foliage than most because it was a bit diseased... finally settled on a well-proportioned Douglas fir. The dogs were in heaven, racing around in the snow and wrestling each other, then getting a squirrel track, and flushing a flock of a dozen wild turkeys.
I un-sheathed the beautiful little Gransfors Bruks forest axe and chopped the chosen one down. We mosied back to the Dodge and loaded up, almost getting stuck in the narrow forest road turning around. We'd been making new tracks for several miles, so walking out wouldn't have been a preferred activity.
Back home now, fire on the hearth, sipping a G&T, and sitting in front of the frikkin' computer. But that's because I like all you miscreants.
Have a good one, ya'll!
You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the old model obsolete. R. Buckminster Fuller
My version is that I am home, little Dolly snug against me, listening to KUSC (Rick, that is something Norcal doesn't have). Unfortunately still no food or drink intake except through a tube in the stomach, but I too am a happy man.
Life is a banquet -- and most poor suckers are starving to death -- Auntie Mame You are born naked and everything else is drag - RuPaul
...not stocky and incredibly full like those farm grown trees that get all their tender terminal buds sheared off every year. (That's simply ghastly - just like keeping calves immobile in small pens and feeding them milk until they are killed...)
Scotty Claus figured out a way to have your cake and eat it too!
(Rick, that is something Norcal doesn't have). Unfortunately still no food or drink intake except through a tube in the stomach, but I too am a happy man.
...not stocky and incredibly full like those farm grown trees that get all their tender terminal buds sheared off every year. (That's simply ghastly - just like keeping calves immobile in small pens and feeding them milk until they are killed...)
Scotty Claus figured out a way to have your cake and eat it too!
...and he's dreamy!
Neeyeh... that's okay fer you city folks. His trees are still sheared.
Us forest restorationist types know that a good many trees have to be killed, because we interfered with Ma Nature's system for almost 100 years. But there's durned few of them that would satisfy a city dweller's notion of a proper Xmas tree. We off about 50,000 trees a year. The ones that are left love us for it.
I accept your assessment that he's dreamy, though he's not the woman of my dreams! (I married her)
You never change things by fighting the existing reality. To change something, build a new model that makes the old model obsolete. R. Buckminster Fuller
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