Wednesday, March 04, 2009


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Devika said...

Birch -- just looking at them makes one an artist/poet I feel..

loved the shot-perspective, Polona


quilly said...

Story -- when we were young and newlywed, my ex and I ended up homeless. We lived in a patched up tent in the woods. One winter day I went in search of dry firewood and came upon a dead standing Birch. I'd never shopped down a tree before, but desperate times cal for desperate measures.

I planted me feet, hefted the ax and swung -- dreading the impact, knowing I would feel it from head to toe and most especially down the length of my arms to my spine. Except -- Birch trees rot from the inside out. They just dry up until nothing remains but bits of stringy pulp and papery bark. The ax went all the way through the tree, spinning me around in a circle, and the tree exploded like a Chinese fre cracker and rained confetti all over me and the surrounding snow.

After that whenever I approached a tree to chop it down, I put my foot on it first and gave a good shove. If it didn't fall over, I could set to work making it do so ....

Janice Thomson said...

There you go with that wonderful perspective again! Love it.

get zapped said...

I love the earthy palette here. Looks like a really fun hill to roooollllllll down!

I enjoyed quilly's story and good advice...thanks.