Oh, It Is On
This isn’t literary or anything, but it seems that assuming my chainsaw doesn’t fall apart, I have some work for it. A few hours back I fell rather heavily against one of the many hawthornes cluttering up the back 40 (thrown there by an inconvenient lurch from the brushcutter, which also seems to be holding together). This hurt enough to startle a few choice words out of me, as contact with hawthornes often does, but being the stoic that I am I shrugged it off until hours later when I thought to take a glance in the mirror, and saw this:
To be precise, I didn’t see the nickel – it is there for scale. I also didn’t really see the inch-long thorn, just an end-on view of the base of the thing (until I’d grabbed it and hauled it out of my hide, of course). Normally, I don’t bother cutting down hawthornes because they tend to cluster so close together to one another that when one cuts through a trunk on one it just sits there, smugly supported by the interwoven branches of its chums. But I think it may be time to revisit my policy.