Got Enough Firewood In?

Back To The Old Grind!   Tip Of The Hat to Terry Wheeler!

Armistice Day, Plus 100 Years

                   The Last Post

The stars are shining bright above the camps,

The bugle calls float skyward, faintly clear;
Over the hill the mist-veiled motor lamps
Dwindle and disappear.

The notes of day's goodbye arise and blend
with the low murmurous hum from tree and sod,
And swell into that question at the end
They ask each night of God--

Whether the dead within the burial ground
Will ever overthrow their crosses grey,
And rise triumphant from each lowly mound
To greet the dawning day.

Whether the eyes which battle sealed in sleep
Will open to reveille once again,
And forms, once mangled, into rapture leap,
Forgetful of their pain,

But still the stars above the camp shine on,
Giving no answer for our sorrow's ease,
And one more day with the Last Post has gone,
Dying upon the breeze.

Vera Brittain, V.A.D. Nurse


                                        Aftermath

Have you forgotten yet?...
For the world's events have rumbled on since those gagged days,
Like traffic checked while at the crossing of city-ways:
And the haunted gap in your mind has filled with thoughts that flow
Like clouds in the lit heaven of life; and you're a man reprieved to go,
Taking your peaceful share of Time, with joy to spare.
But the past is just the same- and War's a bloody game...
Have you forgotten yet?
Look down, and swear by the slain of the War that you'll never forget.

Do you remember the dark months you held the sector at Mametz-
The nights you watched and wired and dug and piled sandbags on parapets?
Do you remember the rats; and the stench
of corpses rotting in front of the front-line trench-
And dawn coming, dirty-white, and chill with a hopeless rain?
Do you ever stop and ask, "Is it all going to happen again?"

Do you remember the hour of din before the attack-
And the anger, the blind compassion that seized and shook you then
As you peered at the doomed and haggard faces of your men?
Do you remember the stretcher-cases lurching back
With dying eyes and lolling heads-those ashen-grey
Masks of the lads who once were keen and kind and gay?

Have you forgotten yet?...
Look up, and swear by the green of the spring that you'll never forget.

Siegfried Sassoon, March 1919

Weekend Steam: Postwar British Railway History

Merle found a real winner for us this week!  This video about the British railways after World War II is nearly an hour long, so I recommend clicking to a new tab from the YouTube icon and keeping it open so you can watch it in segments.  It is fascinating history.  Thank You, Merle!

Back Leaners: Running The Numbers For Safety

If you cut trees you deal with lean on every tree.  Hardly ever do you have a perfectly balanced tree, and if you do, you are going to have to wedge it over or let the wind push it for you.  In this video we cover the numbers that you need to do your figuring.  Don't push the limits for two reasons.  Wedging a tree near the limit of back lean is difficult and tiring; definitely not enjoyable.  Push near the limit and you will  have hinge failures.  That may not be a problem out in the woods, but it can be disastrous next to valuable improvements.  Internalize these numbers and you will be able to figure your side lean limits for safety purposes.  That is where I use this method the most.  Pick a spot to drop most of your trees where you don't have to fight any side lean and life is easier.  The math for this method is so easy you won't even need a pencil, so be sure to include it in every tree falling plan.

Hunting Vicariously

Susan and I have not hunted in many years, but we enjoy the wildlife in our timber and are glad to share it with friends who hunt.  Dusty Wood has been up in a tree stand the last couple mornings and he sent us some nice shots to enjoy.  He gave us permission to share on YouTube, so now you can join in the fun.  There were some bigger deer, too, but Dusty does not fumble around with picture taking when a potential trophy is in view.

Ruger's Auction To Benefit Honored American Veterans Afield

Ruger has an exciting rifle for us this week!  It is a Hawkeye® African in .223 Remington.  It is just the ticket for putting meat in the pot when you are on safari, or for popping coyotes when in Illinois.  This fine rifle was made five years ago in 2013, and is New In Box, in Ruger's vault.  It will sell mid-day, Wednesday, November 7, 2018.  Click Here to read all about it and to place your bid.  $1245

Tuesday Torque: Limbering Up A Rebuilt 15 HP Pattin

This video illustrates some of the difficulty of making an old engine run.  How are you supposed to make an engine fire up and run when it has stiff rings and tight bearings?  You probably need to monkey with the fuel and ignition, too.  Belting up to an engine that runs is the answer for many hobbyists.  Thank You for spotting this vid, Merle!

I Like Corn Meal From The Store...

                                                             Back To The Old Grind!

Wilfred Owen, November 4, 1918

You have probably at least heard of Wilfred Owen, even if you are not a fan of poetry from the Great War.  Wilfred is considered to be one of the very best poets who wrote about the war, and he was a front line veteran.  He suffered illness, injury, and shellshock, but he came back to the front even though he could have stayed away.  He wrote throughout the war, and this is a fragment from 1914.

War broke: and now the Winter of the world
With perishing great darkness closes in.
The foul tornado, centered at Berlin,
Is over all the width of Europe whirled,...

Many of his poems take us to dark places that none wish to visit.  A fragment from Dulce Et Decorum Est:

Gas! Gas! Quick, boys!-An ecstasy of fumbling,
Fitting the clumsy helmets just in time;
But someone still was yelling out and stumbling,
And flound'ring like a man in fire or lime...
Dim, through the misty panes and thick green light,
As under a green sea, I saw him drowning.

In all my dreams, before my helpless sight,
He plunges at me, guttering, choking, drowning.

Another from Strange Meeting:

'I am the enemy you killed, my friend.
I knew you in this dark; for so you frowned
Yesterday through me as you jabbed and killed.
I parried; but my hands were loath and cold.
Let us sleep now....'

Wilfred Owen was killed in action on November 4, just one week before the Armistice.  His mother was notified on November 11.

Anthem For Doomed Youth

What passing-bells for these who die as cattle?
-Only the monstrous anger of the guns.
Only the stuttering rifles' rapid rattle
Can patter out their hasty orisons.
No mockeries now for them; no prayers nor bells;
Nor any voice of mourning save the choirs,-
The shrill, demented choirs of wailing shells;
And bugles calling for them from sad shires.

What candles may be held to speed them all?
Not in the hands of boys but in their eyes
Shall shine the holy glimmers of goodbyes.
The pallor of girls' brows shall be their pall;
Their flowers the tenderness of patient minds,
And each slow dusk a drawing-down of blinds.

And, a fragment from Futility:

Was it for this the clay grew tall?
-O what made fatuous sunbeams toil
To break earth's sleep at all?

Colors Have Peaked, And The Leaves Are Dropping

Still no hard freeze here, just scattered frost, so the leaves are giving us good hang time. Red maple is beautiful, as usual.  The oaks are doing great with muted red in the red oak group, and gold highlights in the white oaks. It's glorious!

Weekend Steam: Reading and Northern 425, Fall Foliage Trips 2018

Merle is a great spotter for engine videos.  Thank You, Merle!

I Used To Get Calls About This!

A little splash of color that most folks do not look for or notice is white pine.  The old needles turn yellow and drop, usually in the fall, but sometimes in the spring.  New needles will pop in the spring, so the tree runs on two years of needles.  Folks may live to be 75 before they notice this, and then they call the forester in a panic because they think their tree is dying.  You explain the phenomenon and the inevitable response is, "I thought they were EVERGREENS!" 

Our white pines flipped this week and we were really enjoying the show, but two days of rain have cut our joy short.  The trees are all green again.