In A Bad Mood

Facebook  is driving Fiorella crazy. After a couple of months of allowing Fio's photos to be easily transferred onto Blogspot, it is now refusing to do so, and that is why you are NOT seeing a portrait Fio did of her Uncle Al years ago. Fio is angry because she had posted the painting on FB specificably in order to copy it over to Blogspot, the only pathway she has found. Fio is also angry because she's on a cedar-cutting binge, but is having problems with her chainsaw, the chain of which, despite Husband's valiant efforts, is always too tight or too loose. And she's also angry because she's not over her stupid cold yet.

GRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRRR!

Pioneer Woman

The temps are down to the forties, and the roar of chainsaws echoes in the land as our rural neighborhood prepares for winter. Fio took an hour break from working on her novel yesterday to help Husband cut some firewood, then filled a trash can with rotting wood from out in what the yardman calls "el  parke" to use as punk. As usual, she is determined to be as self-sufficient fire-wise as possible--no store-bought wood, no H-E-B starters.

Sonia Dog Reports on Family Labors

Maybe it was the blood moon, but more likely it was the change in the weather. Mommy, who couldn't work outside more than fifteen minutes the day before the eclipse, stayed out in the yard with Daddy for more than an hour the day after.  She used her venerable loppers to trim whiskers and dead branches off oaks and elms, take out a claw-leaved bush, and nip nasty brambles down to the ground.  Then, as Daddy cut logs into fireplace-size units with his mighty chainsaw, Mommy attacked anything with a diameter of less than two inches with her pint-sized chainsaw. Tomorrow is pick-up-and-stack day.  And after that, Mommy and Daddy will tackle the huge logs rotting at the top of the property.

I lay on the porch and supervised, of course--when I could stay awake. Humans can be so boring.

Fiorella of the Chainsaw

Fiorella is queen of the chainsaw!  All hail!

Yes, when Husband said there was no way the fallen tree in the north driveway could be taken back to the house and hacked up for next winter's firewood, Fio decided to find a way--and there you have the essence of her personality.  Anyway, she took chainsaw in hand, marched up the driveway and commenced sawing, hacking off all the limbs and cutting the ones she could handle into eighteen-inch lengths.  The rest of the tree she figured, could be hauled back to the area in front of the house, where Husband has a couple of big logs set on end to use as a work table.

Fio wasn't as successful with the tree that fell across the street during the storms.  The neighbors had kindly maneuvered it to the side of the road, but Fio wasn't about to kneel down on sloping ground to cut it up into firelogs so she had to be happy with trimming off a few inconsequential limbs.

And as she swaggered back to the house swinging her chainsaw, the nasty cedars along the way cowered in fear. Mercy, Fiorella, I beg you.

But Fio took a few swipes at them anyway.  Chainsaw Lady knows no mercy.

Fire Trumps

All is not well in Fiorellaville.  Her car battery is refusing to take a charge, and her computer is refusing to shut down.

On the other hand, Husband has chainsawed wood and built the first fire of winter, a moment of magic and wonder.  With flames leaping and snapping in the fireplace, who cares about car batteries and computer glitches?