The Moral Woodlot: Envy

If trees were people, they would be sinners.

No matter how high you climb,

Whatever is yours must be mine.

"For wrath killeth the foolish man, and envy slayeth the silly one." Job, 5:2.

Out and About and Under

I did not spend as much time in the field as I would have liked, but we did drive up to Florenceville-Bristol to see the fall colours. The trees grew greener as we drove west. In the Juniper area the colours are nearly at their peak, but down in the river valley, things are still moist and dark.

I spent a good deal more time this weekend under the sun porch, trying to turn this  . . .

into something more like this . . . 

If you don't see much difference, I can't really blame you. All I can say is that it takes a lot of digging before you can do the carpentry, and a lot of carpentry before you can do the insulation. Winter is coming on much too quickly this year, though I must say the last three days have been absolutely balmy--mid-20s and sunny. 

The Moral Woodlot: Pride

If trees were people, they would be sinners. Today: Pride and its fall.

I will raise both arms to heaven

And challenge the skies

Daring all wind, all weather.

"Pride goeth before destruction, and an haughty spirit before a fall." Proverbs 16:18

Arboreal Mortcat

The dogs were uneasy during our evening walk. Even Valla the Destroyer seemed spooked. She actually raised her immense bulk and clawed at the trunk of a tree. At first, with the sun low in the sky, I could not make out what crouched in the branches of a slender maple. A dark shape moved hectically amid the foliage and then froze into stillness.

Its cry was haunting; I can only describe it as a memory of anguish.






I moved closer, cautiously. It turned its head slightly, tracking me as I advanced. Its hollow stare was black and terrifying. There was no doubt in my mind. Though sightings have been rare, this could only be the Eastern Arboreal Mortcat.

Autumnal flowers

The wildflowers by the Crick look rather lovely this year . . .

but there's always that faint yearning when I see fading flowers in the fields--yearning and perhaps fear: winter is coming. The angle of the autumn sun is a warning.

Lawnmover

I finally finished the lawnmower. This is the Co-op one that has lain in pieces for 15 years, and has been on the Lucia pallet-table all summer. Now I have a 6-hp monster, massively heavy, that I don't really need--but it's finished!!

With overhead valves and manual throttle, it's an old-school grass killer. It might just be the dogwood demolition tool I've been looking for.
UPDATE: As of June, 2016, this is our main push mower. I mounted a fixed discharge chute after cutting a hole in the side of the deck (it was originally rear-eject with a plastic chute that always clogged). The original blade adapter wasn't up to the job, but the heavy duty replacement turned the machine into a very reliable and powerful mower.

Culvert

6 September
Today, I finished the culvert by the tractor shed. Boris came tantalizingly close to completing it this summer, so I gave it the final push, digging down another six inches and levelling off the ground around. Now I can buzz to and fro with brush and fill.