Well, I practically hate almost everybody and everything that isn't slingshot related. But I usually don't like to have conversations about my bette noires. So I'm staying in character for this foul-weather post.
This is Sunday, Dec. 19, 2010 here in New England. It's kinda cold at around 29 - 30 degrees Fahrenheit. But it's the kind of cold that really penetrates,
i.e., damp. Cloudy. Feels like it's going to snow any minute. In fact, I'm surprised it hasn't yet.
I went out back today before noon and shot extensively with two slingshots I've recently been given by members here, namely Gib and Jephroux. Both of these shooters are pocket friendly and finished to the level of the furniture in my living room. No hype. I had fun, but the weather was still casting a mood depressing pall over everything.
So inside I went to spray a couple more coats of varnish on my two ash "Brothers" I made from forks sent to me from The Gopher over in Minnesota. Never used spray-on varnish before, and I'm not very happy with it. I wish I took my time and use just linseed oil like I usually do. But I'm too deep into this now and am nowhere near patient enough to change course now after 5 or 6 coats. And this depresses me even more, because I worked my butt off on those forks.
The wife, an Italian woman who more than lives up to customary expectations of culinary expertise, asked if I wanted her to cook me something.
(God bless her, this is besides what she's already engaged in preparing for Christmas Eve's annual feast.). But I declined, knowing what the upcoming holiday meals are going to add to the slow suicide I'm committing every day with the way I eat. I am unfortunately a man of medium stature and huge appetites. Eating usually cheers me up, but I don't feel low enough to be suicidal today.
Checked this forum and found it pretty slow. Everybody must be Christmas shopping and getting read for the holiday. . .
Haven't been getting enough exercise lately, so I set off for a walk in the woods. Wow, what a good choice that was! Almost forgot how much I love the woods in winter, before the snow falls. I perked up immediately once I got deep enough. Took a catty with me and some marbles and the last of the clay balls I rolled a few weeks ago. There's a tall-grass field I know that is just no fun in the summer months, but altogether different in winter. In there I saw a slew of some kind of plants that are sporting these white seed pods or something that are about 2 - 3 inches in diameter and roughly round. Great targets, and sitting at all ranges. Fun! Made me forget my depression.
The season made it possible for me to explore further into the surrounding woods, which are fairly impenetrable in summer. I saw a clump of trees that seemed maybe . . . holy? Sometimes in the woods I feel accompanied by gods and other spirits. And some trees and plants seem to be trying to say something to me. I know some of my friends here experience this. It would be nice if some of you would share what you have known in this vein.
On the rim of this high grass field, I have in the past cut some nice forks. I hold the bushes and trees that bless me thus in high honor. So I visited them. I remembered where each one lives and won't forget. Although at my age I do forget a lot.
One bush -- I call it a bush only because I am admittedly quite inept at being able to name my woodland allies -- warranted extra attention. This particular bush/tree taught me a major lesson last summer about boiling my freshly cut forks. For I cut two very handsome forks from it and boiled them in salt water for only twenty minutes. Both cracked badly. I was sorry and chastised. It is better to boil for an hour or more.
But the same tree called me to itself today and offered me two more forks of fine symmetry to cut. I did cut them for, in addition to my catty, I brought my folding saw and beloved Svord knife from New Zealand. It was very generous and forgiving of that tree. But here there's more. The way in which the tree beckoned was gory and therefore noteworthy. I was actually getting ready to pass by this tree, but there was something unusual-looking near it. When I walked closer, I saw a totally out of the ordinary skeleton - that is, it was way larger than any remains of small game I've ever encountered in the woods hereabouts. At the time of my viewing, I really regretted not having brought my camera. And I still do.
I have never seen such a carcass or skeleton. Though it was picked almost completely of the meat, I could see that what had been gnawed from the bones was recent. Quite red. But what was so unusual and freaky about the thing was the long neck. Not only long was the neck, but still there was gray wolfen- like fur left on it. But the teeth in the mostly-gone jaw were very small. I looked for fangs and saw nowt. Strange, says I.
These gray cold depressing days can turn happy. Later, on a stroll through a different part of the woodland, where normal trees grow, I came on another bush/tree showing a fork not quite perfectly shaped, but with nice potential, so I bent to the job of cutting it with my folding saw. Nearby was a fallen tree with a trunk about 10 inches in diameter to sit upon. Feeling a little tired from walking, I accepted the comfort. Then I drew out my Svord knife and began to carve a fork out of what I'd just cut. I went all the way and completely carved myself a new catty from the green wood. It is the way I like to carve hard wood. Completely green. I think I got a fair to middling catty out of the effort. But the best part is how I forgot about how cold and damp it was for the duration of my activity. I so love this carving and winter weather outdoors that I become oblivious to the "hardships" involved.
My mood was light and happy on the walk home. And I am glad to be alive. If the catty I carved survives, I will post it for you all. I sealed it in a plastic bag upon arriving home deliciously tired, and content.
Climate blues? Naw, just get out there.
