I’ll get outside to work as we have a couple beautiful days
coming up. It seems too early for spring, but the hibiscus are already
blooming. Warm days mean hurley orders. Somewhere along this belt of warmth a customer is wishing they had a replacement hurley for the one they broke in the fall, or maybe a new sliotar as a dog chewed through the old one.
I shed my fleece as I clean up bark and wood scraps that lay about the yard—I’ll burn them in the fire when the temperature does drop. I split wood, setting up three or four rounds and swinging away ta them in turn in one long anaerobic exercise.
I shed my fleece as I clean up bark and wood scraps that lay about the yard—I’ll burn them in the fire when the temperature does drop. I split wood, setting up three or four rounds and swinging away ta them in turn in one long anaerobic exercise.
I empty the kiln and smell quite a stench so I make my way
around the kiln and see nothing save the water barrel. A furry thing is floating
on the top. Dusty I think. Old dusty the lost cat has finally turned up. I roll
the barrel over and to my surprise not Dusty, but five dead squirrels spill into
the mud. I gather them up in a box and dump the, outside the gate for the
coyotes.
I work on a few tables I’m nibbling away at. Shave a couple
dozen hurleys and then stop work early to pick up the boys from school.
The next day I check on the squirrels and they are gone.
Circle of life.
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