First came the Achy Connective Tissue Flu….
Warning! This blog is not like any prior! Read at your own risk.
lost the last week of 2021. Seriously, I was totally mentally incapacitated. Perhaps the theory that the white hats instigated Omicron to once for all end this covid crud crap by providing all of planet earth’s yet living residents their needed natural immunity regardless of their injection history to date, any current or projected trauma, etc. It was bad! In fact it was so bad that Jan 1st just before midnight, I realized our men’s prayer group was to meet Sun 8 AM. I awoke in time but not to dress so I went in my PJ’s . Told Loretta I’m not going to church, I’ll be back after prayer meeting. It was an amazing turnout too! Standing room only. I told everyone I wasn’t staying for church since I’d come in my PJ’s. But you know what? If you sleep in classy PJ’s, who is ever going to even notice? Especially with today’s fashions. So I decided to stay for church. PJ’s and all. Of course, I sat in my usual and customary pew in the east balcony, affording me a complete view of everyone in attendance.
And after the inspiring message spoken just right at me on my Damascus Rd encounter that prior week of crud, detailing so well
1.) my sucky conditions of late;
2.) my confrontations & His ability to transform them;
3.) my big time confusion… Who are you Lord?;
4.) my current calling, get up, get dressed, No PJ’s, go into the city, stay for Church and SS! Then I’ll tell what’s next..;
5.) followed by Commitment… not sure Carl, was it my C to Him, OR, His C to me?. Perhaps both!
I even then met with my SS class of 4 die hard males! Ages 85, 83, 73, and a youngster in his 40’s yet! I was at church over 4 hours in my PJ’s. Seldom am I ever at church that long!
Then Regaining Momentum….
So Monday and Tuesday did not go well. Likely no big surprise. But I accomplished some major reading that will forever change my spiritual lookout as a coaching faith facilitator in the remaining time I have. I read in Moody Highlights (Paul’s name is on the label though) that Dr Gary Chapman at his retirement celebration recently told of visiting Lottie Moons gravesite years ago and was expecting to see a great gravestone; instead all he saw was a small stone engraved with her name, birth and death dates, and words that made Dr Gary weep at the time: Faithful until death. Lottie spent nearly 40 years (1873-1912) living and working in China. Born to affluent parents on her ancestral 1500 acre tobacco plantation near Charlottesville VA, she early on was a scoffer of faith until she was in college attending a revival service. She was one of the first women in the South to receive a Masters degree from UVA.
Finally, It was Time to put on the coveralls and get some work done…
On Wed in preparation for the colder weather I saw forecasted, I put on my coveralls and decided it was high time to get ready for the Artic blast. Actually temps were in the 40’s when I tackled getting my tool barn ready for winter. I pulled the Zero turn out, hooked up to the trailer and backed it in toward my 15 bags of potatoes ( only half-ful so I can handle them) that were put away last summer for friends and family. At harvest, I went thru them diligently separating those with blemishes and giving them away early on. Since, I’ve only been over to diminish the pile twice. I was really interested to see how well they were “wintering” thus far. I went thru each bag dumping them slowly into 5 gal buckets looking for culls that should be used earlier. And I was happy to have only sorted out maybe 8 lbs for such priority use. And I only found five spuds that had blackened, hardened and shrunk down since harvest. Last year I found too many more that had turned to “soft mush” frequently affecting a few more about them as well… but not one like that this year. So thankful, but in all honesty, I have no idea why or why not! Divine Providence!
I shall presume what I am witnessing amongst these “storing well” spuds on Wednesday, was natural immunity un-provoked by any such forced injections wherein they simply self-isolated restricting any further spoilage. So in time, these 13 bags were re-situated into our garage on boards so they are off the concrete, wrapped up in old blankets, and then darkened by several black mats that inhibited weed growth during the summer. And in case, garage temps dip dangerously close to freezing before spring, we do have a natural gas heater available to lessen the chill…
So with the spud transaction transition complete, I turned my attention to moving the summer implements, such as the push mower, both tillers, and the 60 in. zero turn further forward into the space where the spuds had earlier resided. But now two other implements were in the on deck circle, that being my ’61 Cub Cadet with its unique rear carrier that Sterling McFarren had built years earlier for transporting himself and “making firewood” tools to and from any such endeavors of falling timber that were suddenly to present themselves. This carrier was large enough for both Stihl chainsaws, a jug of chain oil, a 2 gal jug of mixed fuel for the saws, plus a small plastic pail with 2 wedges, a rubber hammer, a vise grips, a channel Lock, screwdrivers, extra chains, etc.
FYI, one of the last times I used the Cub Cadet, I decided to make it a family outing. Since my dog was never taught to heel, (and just why not, could well be fodder for a classic short story, if not a novel on child rearing!) I thought I’d attach a short rope to the Cub’s hitch with a link so as to attach it to my dog’s leash, Sir O Riley, so that he could accompany me on these adventuresome jaunts into our property’s 10 acre world of derelict decaying decomposing at one time magnificent stalwart Ash trees.
Historically, such trees were highly sought after by two very unique industries. For years prior to “synthetics” being introduced into the world of baseball, the baseball bat of choice was made from Ash wood. Also, since the beginning of time, horse drawn implements requiring a singletree attachment between the team, frequently if readily available, also preferred Ash lumber.
First consider baseball. For decades, baseball bats had been exclusively of ash. But in the mid 1990s, Sam Holman, a sort of Johnny Mapleseed of baseball bats, started experimenting with maple, giving samples to several players, for the nearby Toronto Blue Jays. Eventually one found its way into Bonds hands. He liked the way it felt, and the results seemed self-evident. Correlation might not imply causation, but imitation is the sincerest form of flattery.
Since Bonds started using a maple bat to crush balls into McCovey Cove, maple has supplanted ash as Major League baseball’s wood of choice, a fortuitous change since America’s supply of ash has been imperiled by an invasive beetle species. It’s estimated now that around three-quarters of major leaguers swing a maple bat, and even though that’s brought its own problems, maple dominance is only expected to increase. It seems ballplayers are a superstitious lot, and ballplayers believe maple makes for better hitting, – even if the science might not exactly back it up. Oh, dear! And just where have we heard the likes of that before? Taken from Deadspin and Vince Guerrieri “How Maple Bats Kicked Ash and Conquered Baseball (8/28/18 2:45PM))
So, since our increasingly globalist driven world isn’t yet in a race for securing horse drawn implements, the availability of sufficient ash lumber here in OH shall not be of any great consequence to anyone. And I also suspect that Amish manufacturers, such as Pioneer Manufacturing, now Pioneer Corp, are well prepared for their future even though ash was the stronger lumber while also being among the lightest, and that the ash choice for singletrees was strictly one of many waiting in the wings given the Amish ingenuity, especially in this Wayne/Holmes community.
By far the bigger peril to be exacted yet though in the former prolific woodlands of the ash trees across OH and PA, will simply be the effects of gravity on the remaining trees. Within the past decade, I personally had two acquaintances killed by falling ash limbs while cutting firewood. Soon many woodlots with dead ash trees will be too dangerous even for children to play in or near unless the trees are closely scrutinized. The same is true for many of our roads, whether township or even St Rts. However, unlike the globalists continually needling their afflictions into all aspects of productive society, the statute of limitations will run out eventually on these dead ash trees. I predict within ten years the bulk of the towering danger will be safely at rest on the ground decomposing, although long past its usefulness as firewood.
One final note though, that I do need to clarify. The only time Riley was ever so engaged with the Cub Cadet for his adventure to helping make firewood was the very first time I set it up, Monday June 29th, 2020. That date was remembered well because I logged nearly 21 miles that day on my Oura tracker working up 4 larger dead ash trees never once suspecting the next day (30th) the cardiac testing would reveal heart problems that then on the July 1st at 10 AM brought everyone running placing me in an ambulance headed to Aultman in Canton to fix a Widow Maker on July 7th.
And no, Riley and I have not done the caper again. We may soon go out on a bright sunny day to cut up several of at least a dozen ash trees on the ground that continually bug my 32 window peripheral vision perspective. I do live in my mother’s house. We designed it for her. She definitely instilled in me a love for trees, for cornfields, raspberries, anything green, and even more importantly, from the Genesis account: And God said, “Let us make man in our image, after our likeness: and let them have dominion over ….
You realize from my perspective as a MN woodsman since age nine, God created trees first for their intrinsic and holy beauty, and when mature, then for lumber, perhaps even shavings, etc. and if all else went a-muck in their lifecycle , they were always good for firewood but only if processed in a timely manner, so as not to bug my peripheral vision of being “wasted” wood. “Waste not, want not.”
Neither the historical Marxists nor their elite globalists yet understand either waste or want; and certainly not “God is love,” or John 3:16, or ….. Sad indeed! Do remember how simple life really is: Faithful until death.
Go forth living in your fleeting moments of visible vapor leading to the commitment ….
Faithful until death!!>>>>> merlin