Leaf-Whelmed

Defined as in such dense foliage that sight is limited. Wewire is foliage moving in the wind. Suthering is the noise of wind in the trees (John Clare). The glossaries in the Macfarlane book are wonderful. A fardon is a pillow made from a cow's stomach stuffed with hay. More phone calls about Bear's building project and I get him and the owner to agree to add diagonal braces where the beam meets the walls. That reduces the clear-span to an acceptable length. To celebrate I have a wee dram and roll a smoke. Thinking about large beams that I've built with in the past: a 5x14 yellow pine timber, 16 feet long, that I carved with a chainsaw to resemble a Thunder Bird; log purlins, flattened one side, that required two come-a-longs and a chain hoist to install; and a set of logs that required a crane. Bridge building, in Mississippi and in Colorado, we used some large pieces, but we always tried to off-load them directly into position. You never want to put large timbers on the ground, keep them waist high, on saw-horses, while you work on them. Two people can usually lift one end, otherwise you go to the pub and bribe a couple more people to help. If everything is completely prepared, you might only need extra help for five minutes. I've walked beams up two ladders many times, solo, oak is .7 specific gravity, 44 pounds a cubic foot, so a twelve foot 4x8 (a common size) is heavy, but lifting one end, resting it on your shoulder and lifting with your legs, isn't that difficult. I always kept the last step intact, so I could abort any attempt at final placement for any reason. At least duck out of the way in case something fell. I have a good record of survival. I never dropped a tree when I didn't know where to flee, a basic rule of the wood-butcher's art, and I never set beams without a meeting over coffee and donuts. A cheese Danish and a cup of fresh coffee goes a long way toward correcting any mistakes. Later, I'm frying some bacon, the house smells great, slicing an heirloom tomato, and breaking off some lettuce. Front-row seat for a display of raptor behavior. Mantling, it's called, where a hawk or falcon spreads its wings, fans its tail and arches its body over a kill, to hide it from any other predator. A beautiful Sparrow Hawk devouring a small rodent. D and I once, in town, in a parking lot, watched the resident Peregrine eat a small rabbit six feet from the sidewalk. Dad and I, fishing Julington Creek, off the St. Johns, watched an Osprey eating a mullet, and then watched an alligator take it away from him. On that same creek (wild swamp on both banks) we saw bear, the Florida panther, wild boar, and the last few people who lived on the water, running trot lines and selling blue crabs and catfish for a living. A manner of being that appealed to me, except for the snakes. There were snakes everywhere: moccasins hanging off branches, rattlesnakes as big as you arm, and copper-heads in profusion. I took up winter-camping in New England because there were no snakes. I don't mind that I reveal myself, what's to reveal? Another handicapped view.