Today I had the opportunity to work on my axe skills, as well as chainsaw skills.

An elderly acquaintance asked me to clear some undergrowth and the usual woodland plants (read: brush) whose life's work is to recapture any cleared space (read: field or lawn). Several weeks ago, I did some of this work for this same individual. At that time, she said that she would have me back in the spring to do more. Apparently, I did a good enough job so that spring was too long to wait. Or maybe the yard had the untidy look of a job half done. This time out there were several inches of snow to deal with. The temperature was also cold enough that fingers hurt (read: HURT) in wet gloves. Cutting the growth at ground level was much too hard on the chainsaw, so I used an axe on all but the largest stuff. In retrospect I wish that I had put both an old bar, as well as an old chain, on the saw before I started and not only just an old chain. I did learn of the advantage in wearing chainsaw chaps is that one can work on one's knees and not get wet through.

What I did was "a little brushing" to use the vernacular. Brushing is like picking rock; both are tasks that are never done. Brush regenerates and propagates; rocks move with the freeze and thaw cycle and tillage. Could it be that both are the results of the efforts of woodland sprites to maintain balance? Someone could make the case that there is not enough wild places, wilderness, or wild land; as a result, there is a system built-in to self-correct our misguided and ill-conceived efforts. As I worked, I wondered if the results of my efforts were really beneficial in the greater scheme of things--a scheme to which I am not all that privy. Despite different purposes, both farmers and suburbanites work to thwart the encroachment of the advance guards of the woody plant world.

I appreciated the opportunity to practice the skills involved, to experience the pain of working outside this time of the year (Tonight, I have a cracked thumb as a continued reminder.), and to think about the greater scheme of things, while on my knees in cold temperatures and bright sunlight. I trust it is okay for all of us to go about our human activity with a healthy dose of skepticism--I don't know everything about what I am doing. It may even be better than "okay;" it may even be the preferred way to proceed. Such an attitude will hopefully keep me open to self-correct my efforts based on the evidence from new information or insight. I can't always rely on woodland sprites.