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Looking for Something in The Woodpile


Today George and I have been mainly looking through the woodpile, well he has been looking as I have been chopping ready for next winter (I think it is going to be a cold one). He caught a polecat ferret out of it last week but despite the smells there didn't seem to be anything in it today.


Now THAT is a very nice saw.

This IS ancient history, but anyway when it's hot I close the house up all day around here -- it stays twenty-five degrees cooler indoors than out that way, under the ash trees and with the roller blinds all drawn -- and then I open her all up and fan out of the North bedroom window downstairs at night. Anyway, one night down in July in '81 or '82 I wake up to a Hell of a uproar, C the cowgirl (or else it was C the redhaired waitress?) says, "Honey, what's that ---en STENCH?" And sure as hell, Sammy the Skunk had come right up into the South kitchen porch to help himself to a bait of dried cat- and dogfood, Lady, my old Blue Heeler-Collie mix and deaf then already had awoke late and pissed off, gave a woof and Sammy let fly. The fan drew the fumes right down on us on the other side of the house in a post-fornicative coma of Schell's Best and even better marijuana, and I swear to Christ that the exudate of skunk taken on top of reasonably good pot makes you SEE things. "Jesus, what a pong!" as my dad's Australian Training Sergeant used to say on riding into the New Guinea cannibal villages with the Territorial Police Trainee Cadets!

Now I'm sixty and a Grampa I don't get up to such pranks anymore (sigh), and the skunks even give me a wide berth, these days. But I still got my Uncle Emmett's old Jonsered 620 chainsaw with the 16" bar.....

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