posted on Wednesday
Yup. Got me my cactus fork.
Got me my little hatchet.
And today, the juniper nursery and I gave each other a nervous hairy eyeball and faced off.
I like my little hatchet. Buh-bye, little trees!
Of course, I feel guilty. I always feel guilty, cutting trees. But in this case, they’re all clustered together so tightly that it’s not healthy anyway–I don’t see that growth pattern anywhere else in this area and I wonder if that land wasn’t disturbed somehow in the past.
And in this case, they’re right in the middle of my agility area, which is a vaguely L-shaped patch of mud and grama grass (now shorn of prickly pear) in the south pasture area, already formed around several large stands of juniper and pinon.
So…yeah. It’s me, my hatchet, and the juniper nursery. Besides, I’ll pick out some of the larger ones to stay around–appropriately spaced, too. I want to leave this gorgeous, fragile high desert land as healthy as possible (which is why DuncanHorse is currently closed in his paddock and not running loose on the wet, erosion-prone soil). The baby trees are already serving another purpose: dragged to the head of forming gullies, where they’ll slow the run-off.
When it comes to this sort of project, I tend to over-do it. For one thing, I’m using tools that mean something to me. This hatchet was my grandfather’s, and is older than I am. (And I swear I checked the handle before I started work. Really I did.) So working with it means more than just being out on the land, out in the quiet…out in my zen zone. It means thinking about my grandfather…thinking about the places and spaces in which I’ve used this hatchet over the years.
Besides. With me, it’s always just one…more…leetle…tree…
So maybe it’s a good thing that the hatchet head came flying off in mid-stroke. It’s certainly a good thing that I ducked the flying hatchet head.
Anyway, I got plenty done, but I didn’t over do it, and Yes! I still have a reflex or two left!
Anyone here have any favorite old hand-me downs?
(I was going to ask “anyone have any favorite old tools?” but a scared little voice in my head popped up and said, “No! Don’t do it!” and indeed, that seems wise after the back-scene responses I got to “cactus fork,” to which I can only say OW OW OW OW. You silly people.)