A day in the trees
The sweat was getting in my eyes. So much so that I couldn't see for more than a few seconds without wiping my brow. My back was screaming and I knew that there would be hell to pay once I stopped. But it felt good in other ways. I was doing something that when I was young, many moons ago, was one of my favorite jobs. One of the many, many different jobs that I have had over the years.
Working with a chainsaw cutting down trees. Now today, as it was on the first day of a job that I started 40 years ago I was cutting up the part of the tree that was already on the ground. 40 years ago it was a middle aged Portuguese man with 3 young sons and an old pickup truck, today it was a couple of 20 something guys doing the climbing and cutting as I watched from the ground.
(Yea, I do remember which shoulder it was...when somebody is pointing a gun in your general direction you remember every detail). BAM! BAM! the explosion echoed thru my body..."Morning" I muttered back. "Dam hawks" he said. I turned to see him looking skyward searching the heavens for these "hawks". "They are after the pigeons", he said pointing behind me to a coup filled with various multi-colored birds swarming and floundering from the noise and commotion. "They swoop down and pick off the pigeons one at a time" he said standing there with a smoking gun on his shoulder still scanning the sky over his home.
When he put the gun away and showed me how to start the pile of rust disguised as a 63 Dodge pickup my job as a "lumberjack" had started. Now years later I'm in my back yard with a pile of rust of my own, a chainsaw that the bow legged hawk killer taught me how to use and the young kids doing the hard work. Life is how it should be!
Working with a chainsaw cutting down trees. Now today, as it was on the first day of a job that I started 40 years ago I was cutting up the part of the tree that was already on the ground. 40 years ago it was a middle aged Portuguese man with 3 young sons and an old pickup truck, today it was a couple of 20 something guys doing the climbing and cutting as I watched from the ground.
I remember my first day as a "lumberjack". I waited in the yard, leaning on a pile of rust that I would later learn was our transportation for the day. Out of the door of the house came a bow legged, short, stocky man running toward me with rifle in his hand. Was I fired for being late on my first day? Should I not be leaning on the rusty pickup? Was I going to be shot on my first day of work?
"Morning", he said as he raised the rifle and aimed at something in the sky over my left shoulder.(Yea, I do remember which shoulder it was...when somebody is pointing a gun in your general direction you remember every detail). BAM! BAM! the explosion echoed thru my body..."Morning" I muttered back. "Dam hawks" he said. I turned to see him looking skyward searching the heavens for these "hawks". "They are after the pigeons", he said pointing behind me to a coup filled with various multi-colored birds swarming and floundering from the noise and commotion. "They swoop down and pick off the pigeons one at a time" he said standing there with a smoking gun on his shoulder still scanning the sky over his home.
When he put the gun away and showed me how to start the pile of rust disguised as a 63 Dodge pickup my job as a "lumberjack" had started. Now years later I'm in my back yard with a pile of rust of my own, a chainsaw that the bow legged hawk killer taught me how to use and the young kids doing the hard work. Life is how it should be!