A body at rest tends to stay at rest, which is why it is so hard for me to get outside and do non-gardening chores like cutting wood with my chain saw.
Consequently, I have to think of the job in such a way that the first step appears easy. Thus it is that I fill the saw with gas and chain bar oil before putting it away. I air up the tires on the cart and Rosie, my lawn tractor.
I have to have in mind specific wood to cut. Usually, it's a promising find that I discovered on a long walk around my ten acres.
Hickory Acres is the name I gave to my place, for all the mature nut trees growing here. I should have called it Hillside Hills, on account of there is hardly a flat spot on the property.
There are several huge sycamore trees growing in the stream beds between the hilly fields. They occasionally drop a nice limb, my current goal. The limb was caught up in some grape vines until I pulled it down a couple of days ago. All was in readiness.
These limbs are a favorite of mine, with their interesting knobby growth that turns pink in places after they die. Sycamores are beautiful trees, with their white bark and little balls of seeds that shower down in early spring.
I am not a tree-hugger, on account of poison ivy, but I do talk with them and give them a little pat with my leather gloves. I believe they know how I appreciate these limbs for my wood stove fire. I always say thank you.
The plan was to zip up the hill to the next field, get the limb cut up, put it in the cart and bring it back, sort of an assault tactic, the way I shop. Get it and get out.
I had mowed this spot between the fields before, but I didn't keep it up last fall. Now, Rosie's wheels spun on the thick clumps of fescue. After several unsuccessful runs, I disconnected the cart. That let me mow the path to above the sycamore, then back down to fetch the cart.
After that, it was merely a matter of fighting my way through the greenbriar, blackcap and rose thorns to cut up the prize limb. Carrying the wood back uphill to the cart gave me some healthy exercise. My hefty steel-toed boots added to the workout, as did the sneaky grape vines that clutched at my ankles.
From there, it was easy to find other limbs to cut.
For me, a late start is essential. The other side of inertia, the body in motion part, is also true. Once I'm outdoors, I never want to come back inside until the light starts to fade. In winter, the sun sets around five, so a start at one in the afternoon and finishing up at four o'clock is perfect for the Inertia Kid.
