Some days are like last Sunday, a week ago, when snow started falling early. Falling straight down in small light crystals, like the type we recognize to be the beginning of a major accumulation. So, I had to change my plans and go get a load of hay instead of work the horses, because now I was pretty sure I was going to have to clean up snow all day Monday.
Some days are like that Monday with 10 inches of new snow, melting on the roof, and backing up behind the ice jams that I had hoped would melt before I had to get up there and chop them out of the roof valleys. 10″ of new snow, on top of 3-4″ I didn’t clean up the week before because the truck was in the shop getting inspected, that needs to be plowed now before any other work can get done, which by the time I’m done, I get the horses harnessed by 3pm, and get 2 trees cut and skidded out.
Some days are like Tuesday, when a plan that had been made to take my trailer to a friend’s to haul her pigs is canceled, but other commitments had been made in concert with that, so part of the day is blown, so I arrange at the last minute to get another load of hay from my other source, then while clear skies and light winds predominate after noon, I sit inside at the Forest Forum, discussing pertinent issues about forest biomass energy initiatives in Vermont with a bunch of other forester types who keep looking out the window, and trade disgruntled comments as we leave about what a good day it might have been outdoors. At least we got the second load of logs moved for this week.
Some days are like last Wednesday when I had to go the Vermont State House, wearing my hat as a Board Member for Rural VT, because our ED had to be out of town, and we were following important bills through Gov/ops, Ag, and Fish & Wildlife committees, and I had to watch and listen as politicians and lobbyists maneuver around details that basically limit this set of constituents, or that one, and looking out the window at the bright sunlight reflecting off the roof in the first day above freezing for several, and thinking that these are not the horses asses I wanted to be looking at today.
Some days are like Thursday when I’m finally at home and can concentrate on getting some logs cut, but first Ben is going to move a couple of loads of pine logs to my woodmizer with his forwarder, which by the time he’s done, I get the horses harnessed by noon, which is better than nothing, and things still seem pretty good in the woods, and I still have all weekend and part of next week to finish another load of logs.
But, some days are like Friday when one kid needs a ride to day care, and my mother needs a ride to catch another ride with a friend, and I know that it is going to start raining during the afternoon, so by 11 I finally get the saw and go to the woods to cut a few down while the horses get a little snack, after which as I’m brushing them I hear the rain starting in fits and starts, so that I stop in disgust, then start again as it doesn’t seem too bad, only to start even harder then just start pouring, so I just go into the shop and work on a saw.
And of course, some days are like Saturday when I have to put everything on hold because it dropped below freezing during the night and we have a side hill ice rink, so I can’t even put the cows out without going to town for a load of sand, and as things are now glazed over every where I will have to put the sharp shoes on the horses before I can go back to the woods, and I save that for Sunday so that I can put more wood in the basement.
Some days are like Sunday when the horses are so relaxed that I can hold each foot for cleaning, trimming, and rasping, or to drive all 8 nails, without a battle. Nothing like a pair of well shod horses walking on glare ice with sharp caulks, watching the chips fly.
And then there are days like Monday when all of the expectation from every day over the last week are all balled up inside me, and all I want to do is use these sharp shod horses to move as much wood as I can, and they haven’t done snot for 7 days, and they sense my tension, and the snow is like 2 1/2 feet of corn crystals off the beaten track which make them even more discomforted, especially because we’re getting to the point where there are not so many trees that are that easy to get to, and with a strong wind out of the North working against me, they are acting like absolute renegades, and I feel like it is the worst day I’ve had in the woods for years, but I struggle to find the patience to take it one step at a time, and end up with a pretty good stack of logs, and reasonable calm horses by the end of the day.
Oh, and then there are days like Tuesday, when I wake up after a good night sleep as a result of resolve to improve on Monday, with renewed focus and patience to make the best out of a calm good weather day, with horses harnessed early, trees falling where I want them, taking light loads, and giving the horse a chance to relax, things are a bit more frozen so footing is better, and about noon I’m getting to feeling pretty good, like I have a good thing going, and as I return to get one more, I actually begin thinking that there’s a chance that I’ll have a good load ready by Wednesday PM, and then I see coming down the road, my log truck, a day early and a couple of thousand short, but rather than getting too down I can see the benefit of getting the landing cleaned up today, and while he’s loading I go get the two that were on the ground, and cut one more, 24″ on the stump, 3-16’s, and right next to the trail, it falls with ease, I decide we’ll take it all, and they’re all there, right on cue, and after 1000 feet of good hard work we walk onto the landing with the whole stick right alongside the truck, unhitch and back them out of the way where they can watch the loader swinging logs high in the air over their heads. Now that’s the team I want to work.
Some week’s are like roller coasters, when I feel like a yoyo, but I have experienced the frustration so many times, and the elation as well, that I have learned which I prefer, and how to keep working at it, to overcome.
There is a quote that I keep in my head, from the early 20th century arctic explorer Vilhamar Steffanson, “Failure is no excuse for success”. It is more than try try again, it is the denial that failure is even an option, and that it is really only a part of the process toward success.
Carl