Our exercise program is back in gear. Bill's chain saw has a shiny new part, and we can get back to cutting oak. Well, he can cut; I can drag limbs and pile brush.
We've been trying to decide whether to make it all into firewood and sell it ourselves, or just sell the logs and let someone else do the commerce. A third option seemed appealing but had about 47 questions to research, not the least of which was cost.
Then, Monday, it all fell into place. We have a trucker, a miller and a moulder, who will take our logs and, Presto!, instead of firewood, we'll have oak flooring! How sweet is that? Instead of going up someone's stovepipe (and adding to global warming), the trees can come inside and play.
Things I think about - as jumbled and unrelated as the contents of my garden cart at the end of a nice long day outside: lots of weeds, an empty coffee cup, some prunings, an interesting looking plantlet and a few handy tools.
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