Credit where it’s due

Long term readers of the blog will be aware that my life is often a shell game. Every simple task seems to take extra steps, backtracking, and at least twice as long as it should. This is a major ongoing frustration for me.

This past week we had a windstorm. A large tree fell across the driveway far enough from the house that I could not see it until leaving for work.

The saw was packed in the wagon, though. It started on the first pull. The tree was light and dry, and Kiddo and I made it to school/work respectively on time.

I took the rail car out both days this weekend. It ran well. I did manage to break the winch on the trailer, but I have a backup manual boat winch. No foul.

I started today with two goals: install a muffler on the rail car, and replace a worn CV axle on the Volvo. I finished both by lunch, uninjured and with only a modicum of cursing.

I used the extra time to finish cutting up and removing the rest of the tree.

I don’t know why things are going well. I would like to credit preparation and experience, but it’s more likely just probability working in my favor. I’m still enjoying it.

I have no photographic evidence of any of this. Instead, here is a flock of pigeons mooching pizza at Salisbury beach.

Don’t make them like they used to. . .

I bought new clothespins this spring. I continue to be one of those odd Yankees who prefers to hang my laundry outside when the weather permits. In our modern ‘green’ society, why does no one encourage this?

(Side note: my neighborhood forbids clotheslines. They also forbid my antique truck, my RV, and my chickens. They would probably forbid my railcar if it had occurred to them. Due to a legal oversight on the develper’s part, we have accidentally fallen outside the rules. No one has ever tried to make an issue of it.)

Back to the clothespins.

They are simple things; two pieces of wood held together with a sping. They have a curve cut out to go around the clothesline. This makes them grip better and allows them to spin freely when not holding clothes in place.

They don’t last forever. They are untreated wood. If I brought them in when not in use they might last longer, but they are inexpensive. I never bother.

When I hung my laundry today they broke. At least a dozen of this year’s clothespins snapped near the spring and were unusable. Six months of relatively average New England weather did them in. Last year’s pins, though ratty looking, are still functional.

File them under ‘don’t make them like they used to’ I guess. Anyone know where to get high quality clothespins?

End of Trail

“The mountains are calling and I must answer.”

I know not what attracts me to these mountains. They are pretty; they are majestic. I vacationed here as a child. They beckon to me with peace and calm even when out of my sight.

And sometimes, I must go for a hike.

I sit on a small waterfall, the highway invisible but audible through the trees below me. A ski area lies dormant beyond sight to my left, taking a breather between peak-bagging summer vacationers and the craziness of leaf-peeping season.

The stream burbles contentedly above and below me. There are no cars to fix, no lawn to mow, no litter boxes to empty nor laundry to fold. The fire department radio cannot reach me here, even with cellular assistance. Agiocochook looms above as the wind soughs through the branches here at. . .

. . .End of Trail.