Each time I run to the cabin I pass a half-cut oak tree. Why did someone abandon this month of fine firewood? Did a forest ranger shoo him or her away with a citation? Licenses used to be a bit of a joke. For $25, you received a permit to cut dead trees and remove lying timber. You were supposed to log each time you removed a truckload, so you made an entry once in a while.
To me, it's great-looking firewood. To you, it might be an eyesore. In a nest of honeybees inhabiting a fallen tree, I see a swarm for an empty hive and sweet stuff to harvest. You might see a hefty exterminator's bill. Last weekend my sister saw the promise of patio furniture in a rusting metal table. Someone else we know recently described the best shaving experience ever. A disposable razor felt so fine. When she finished, she discovered she hadn't removed its plastic guard.
Chy (pronounced "shy"), the most recent addition to our livestock pantry, looks like a pet to many. To Karen, Chy is: (1) a guardian (donkeys protect chickens, goats and turkeys from coyotes and foxes); (2) a producer of extremely nutritious milk; and (3) a friendly pet.
"Think plow," says Virginia.
True. Maybe Chy will help me in the garden, burning grass instead of gas.
Different strokes for different folks
2 weeks ago