Poison Oak

I woke at six or so on Saturday, with every intention of making it out
to help with tie replacement, only to find it dumping big rain all over
the property. Also considering I did not get to sleep quite as early
as I had meant to the night before, I stayed home. Of course, just
about two hours later, the rain had stopped completely and the day
turned out beautiful. Instead of covering myself in railroad filth, I
donned my overalls and covered myself in yard filth. I fired my dads
old chainsaw up and finally got around to sawing up all the old
over-sized peices of firewood. Beyond that, I figured I ought to do
something about the half acre or so of volunteer grass that nature
decided to chuck in my general direction. The only tool I could locate
to deal with the situation was a push-mower. The job was always done
with goats in the past. I also discovered that grass growing on what
was not long ago a goat pen grows very healthy and fast. The oil in my
car changed itself with only a little help from me, and I added a bit
of antifreeze to the mostly water contents of the radiator. Throughout
that very productive day I kept looking up and feeling guilty. The day
was very productive and very needed, but I still wanted to be out
shoveling ballast. It makes no sense. I hate being dirty, but I miss
the opportunity to get that way.

There was an email in the box last night from Steve. It appears that just about everyone who was out tossing wood babies with us that day came down with poison oak. Fun, fun, fun.

Here we go

I've done it. This morning I called Revere and committed myself to paying money I don't have. A lot of it, in fact. I need to come up with about four grand before the first of March and another three or so before the April Fool tries to have my legs broke.

A warm friend

From time to time it is good to step back from all the familiar things that we take for granted and examine them again. We can re-evaluate their benifits and uses and realise how much they do for us once more without the familiar contempt. Take fire for example. Mankind has had fire for so long, and advanced ourselves (using fire as a tool to do so) beyond our immediate need for it. We still build our houses with fireplaces, but mostly for the pleasant social experience of sitting beside it rather than for heat or cooking or any other purpose. Some of us, however, use it for its most basic purposes. It provides me with heat, food (on occasion I feel like using it to cook, or perhaps, to reheat) and a warm pleasantly crackling friend. It is good to remember to take some small delight in the day to day mundane fixtures of life.

Also I was struck today by the irony of selecting the best pieces of firewood to bust up into kindling.

Tossing wood babies

Never mind. I know I've been lax in keeping this thing up. The last few weeks have been interesting for any number of reasons. My first class (fabrication 1) at the Revere Academy was a smashing success. It was entirely worth the money and left me wanting the day to be longer at the end of each class meeting. This class was to be a bit of a test to tell me whether I like the work well enough to continue. I've decided that I do want to persue this line of work. A call to Revere told me that they still have several places left open in the Intensive Program, one of which I mean to fill. All that remains is a down payment of $1000 and two more payments of about $3000, give or take, each. In addition to said dough, there is another grand or so of tools to purchase. I will reserve my space on Monday, then spend a bit of time in the bank discussing a loan with the fine people there. Hopefully they will be kind.

The cold of the past week or so has seriously depleted my stock of firewood. The Stangelands have put me to work draining the water out of all the trucks, tractors, and other vintage bits of machinery. In order to keep from freeziing to death, I already rummaged my neighbor's dumpster for scrap ends of wood from his barn building project. They burned quickly. I then took a load of very well seasoned (just starting to go punky) firewood from the right of way in the canyon. We picked up enough wood to completely bottom out my springs in the BMW. Once I emptied the trunk (leaving the back seat full) the car rode more smoothly. The next day found me back in the canyon for a meeting of the Niles Planning Committee. Since I was there, the trunk was reloaded. I lit a fire with it that burned for a bit less than a week before I ran low on wood again. The last two days were a bit cold. Today I returned to the canyon for my usual day of working on the right of way. We went to a stand of almond trees that have been dead for the last three years. Since they were still standing upright, they did not have enough moisture to begin rotting. Again I loaded my trunk. There was enough wood left (I piled it behind Blake's Palace) to give me at least two more carloads. It is wonderfully dry and splits like a dream. The wood is very hard, and yet very brittle. The axe makes it almost fly apart. I can only imagine it must be wonderful to carve. Perhaps I will try a piece of it. In order to get the wood loaded into the PG&E car (origin, not ownership) we formed a human chain with the chainsaw on one end and the car on the other. Steve looked quite a bit like he was tossing me a series of very wooden babies. I don't hesitate to tell you that these babies will keep my place warm all week.