“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
Last real photoshop project from me for a while. Then I’ll get back to harping on life, the universe, and other pertinent topics for the unemployed philosopher.
I found this old log during the past week while lumberjacking (more on that in my next post) and thought it could be an interesting project for my growing photo-manipulation skills. Anyway, I’m quite happy with the results, regretting only one or two hundred details which considering past attempts serves as a good benchmark for success. If I can reduce my dissatisfaction to below five-hundred mistakes and errors, then I’m feeling pretty optimistic.
Thus, here’s my ‘Dragon at Midnight’ . . . Any and all criticism is appreciated unless it’s negative and then you can kindly jump off a bridge. Thank you.
Just when you thought it was safe to plow . . . the snow begins again. Wave 2 of this winter storm, what the newscasters have brilliantly dubbed “Snow-apocalypse 2010,” is presently frosting the canals and alleyways we’ve constructed over the last few days for vehicles and emergency egress lest one of us accidentally swallow a Monopoly hotel or a bear attacks — it happens.
Thus, I am forecasting a slow week here at Murphey’s Pub and a perfect opportunity for a little photojournalism to showcase the blizzard for those readers in Brazil, which I imagine doesn’t receive much of this stuff. Continue reading