Chipping Away

Despite temperatures that never broke above freezing, Phil taped his fingers and loaded up the truck for a dump run. When he came back, he and Isaiah headed downslope for some chipping in the lower pasture.

A while ago, we talked about the inherent dangers in forestry. Chainsaws, I have read, are the most dangerous tools you can use without a license. Falling trees sometimes fall in unexpected directions. And though Phil usually takes a walkie-talkie with him, if he were knocked unconscious, I might not notice for hours—the sound of the chainsaw doesn't reach me at the house.

And so the boys have a new job: go down with Dad and be ready to contact me in case of emergency. At some point, it would be better to have them actively participate in the felling and clearing, but for today, I was proud that Isaiah headed down without complaint. He read a book and shivered, but returned cheery (and cold).

After about two hours, dusk was falling. Phil was physically done, too. After two days shy of two months since he hurt his finger, he will need a bit of time to get back in shape. Ouch.