I, Lumberjack.

Tree-rich forest“Seriously dude this is the greatest moment of my life,” Frank said as we pulled up to my brother, Pat’s, house. Or rather where his house will be in two months.  “It’s like heaven without the virgins.”

“Heads up,” I muttered.  A large poplar crashed across the road, sending a spray of splinters the size of daggers into the air.  Dad waved at us from the fractured remains of Mother Nature.  Against the ragged stump, he rested his chainsaw and chugged at a canteen (filled with sweet tea).  Several thunderstorms were predicted to roll across the county later that afternoon, dissipating some of the heat eventually.  However, we were not about to cut trees in the rain and so until then, we would suffer the heat.

Finished, Dad wiped his brow and handed Frank the saw, grunting as he did so toward a sixty-foot tree at the edge of the property.  At his nod, I moseyed toward the chipper, where Sean and Ryan stuffed broken branches and freshly cut saplings between revolving gears and mechanical teeth.  The machine gurgled and screamed as it chewed, finally spitting out its waste like a bulimic model onto growing piles of discarded chips and shavings. Continue reading

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