Breaking out the Teeth

I was awake early today, perhaps, although without a watch I don’t know. I ate a leisurely breakfast while listening to the Saturday radio programs and then tackled the tree I found yesterday that had fallen last year. I cut it up, making a video of the electrical system while I was at it, and then peeled the fourteen foot section that still stood, after I cut it down as well. I have it ready to move into the open near the cabin so I can cut it into a squared timber. The smaller section will likely end up the same, although the piece with problems are destined for my woodshed. Some of them are already cut up, for I spent some time on the saw horse today as well. I also cut some smaller trees out back, and one of the maples in the front and the fir that used to house the robin’s nest a few years ago. It was becoming a pain in the butt as it grew, and prevented light from getting to the chives and mint as well as rest of the yard. I’ll still have lots of shade from the birches and maples that are still around, which is a good thing right now, since it is thirty degrees during the day.

I’m not sure when I’ll go to Fredericton, since I broke a side off a molar today and I’d like to have it repaired as soon as possible. I wonder if there is anyone who specializes in quick fixes. If so, I have no idea how to track them down.

Later in the afternoon, when I was tired and hot from wood work, I watched some more of The 100 series. It is annoying how they think the only way people live is by betraying one another. Everyone in the show will not compromise and lie and betray each other constantly. Partly that is a delay tactic I would guess, so they won’t get to the main confrontation which would end the show. It is now late evening at some unspecified time, and I’m looking forward to working on Blind Fish. I’ve nearly read the entire book again, up until the point that I have to take notes on who is who, and soon I will be ready to start on the sequel which is now only in draft form.

About Barry Pomeroy

I had an English teacher in high school many years ago who talked about writing as something that people do, rather than something that died with Shakespeare. I began writing soon after, maudlin poetry followed by short prose pieces, but finally, after years of academic training, I learned something about the magic of the manipulated word.
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