Editing and Slabbing up Logs

Even though the mosquitoes were bad today, I went out early and cut up some wood before breakfast. I have nearly gone through the huge pile I had at the start of day, and then, after breakfast, I alternated between slabbing up the log I’d pulled from the woods yesterday and doing some work on the latest Blind Fish novel. I’ve only made it through a fifth of the novel on this pass, and haven’t started any of the additional work, but I cut a slab off three sides of the log and have only the fourth side to go. Then I will decide to either slice it up for drying purposes, or store it as a squared timber.

I watered the garden again today, and noticed I am almost out of water in my white jug under the porch eaves. My hot water half-barrel is running out as well, although I still seem to have lots of drinking water. I need to clean the drinking water barrel but I’m reluctant to empty it when I’m not sure when it’s going to rain again. Someone is running a generator this evening. It sounds like the same person who was hammering lately. It’s a relief to be this far back in the woods so such sounds are dimmed by distance.

While the sun was dropping, I decided I would set up a new way of suspending the water barrel under the eaves of the porch. I built it while it grew darker, and then left it to finish tomorrow.

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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