Not Much Happening

This week (first week of May) has not been overly exciting, it seems as if summer is sitting in early and we may be in for a long hot summer. 

Earlier this week my sidekick and I decided to cut some more tree limbs. I have noticed that my sidekick (Tejas) doesn’t do much work. As I was getting the ladder, ax, hand saw, pole chain saw, regular chain saw out of the shed Tejas was either laying in the shade or playing with one of his stuffed toys.  He likes the stuffed toy that makes a noise. I find it interesting that he doesn’t chew the stuffed toys into small pieces, instead they last for months.

               His all-time favorite is a plastic bottle that water or soda comes in. He seems to like the popping and crunching sound they make as he chews on them. He does destroy the plastic bottles; somehow he chews them until they are flat, then I pick them up.

               Tejas and I had started about 9:00am which is early for me.  Lately, the pollen had been so high early in the morning that I have to stay inside or I will be sneezing and have itchy eyes (notice how I have stayed politically correct here and did not mention snot). I moved the trailer close to the area where the limbs would be cut so I would not need to carry a long distance. Retired people need to save their energy for other things. You want to know what other things. I don’t know I just made that up. To be honest it trips my trigger when I see people doing double work, so I try to not do things twice. As an example, there was a fellow grinding a stump at the house across the street. As I watched he was pulling up parts if roots and tossing then a few feet into a pile. His trailer was parked on the street and he later picked up the roots and carried them to the trailer. He could have backed the trailer into the drive way and tossed the roots onto the trailer reducing the bending, picking up and carrying to the trailer. Or he could have tossed the roots into a wheelbarrow and took them all to the trailer at one time. 

               If Necessity is the mother of invention, then Laziness is the father. For a couple of you who have just thought, “yes men are lazy”, I want to define Lazy as it is used in that statement. Lazy defined is, “wise enough to find a more efficient method to do a particular task”.

               I was sawing limbs that were several feet above my head. I was wearing a pair of goggles over my glassed to keep the saw dust out of my eyes. Those goggles worked well as the small breeze directed the saw dust directly at my face. I would like to say I was smart in positioning my ladder but I think that it was more the luck of the Irish that kept the limbs from hitting me as they fell. I was cutting a particularly large limb when I thought about my side kick.  I was sitting on top of the shed so the limb would not hit me but Tejas was on the ground and if he was to walk under the limb as it fell that could be disastrous. I climbed down and put him in the house.

               All the limbs fell without injury to me or my sidekick. There is a magical method of loading the trailer and I used it.  Basically the magic is from the first two limbs that are loaded. These two limbs should have several smaller limbs in them and be long enough to touch the front of the trailer and hangover the back about 8 inches. All other limbs are loaded on top of these two. When it is time to unload one or two people can pull those two limbs and everything on the trailer will unload. What took an hour to load can be unloaded in 5 seconds (that technique was invented by a man “a Father of Invention”).

               My neighbor and I rode out to the Bunk House for lunch today and the only interesting thing that occurred was the fact that I washed my bike before we left. I am not real big on washing vehicles even though I do like them to be clean. The food was good but as I stated earlier it seems as if summer is sitting in early and it was hot riding today. When I took the helmet off it was sweated wet. The helmet dried while we were inside eating but it was again wet when I took it off back at the house.

From the always overheated mind of                       Don Ford

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                 

Ballet?

Mr. and Mrs. Ford at the Ballet; it doesn’t sound possible to me either. No, I wasn’t dancing this time, it has been years since I …

Who would have thought that the Fords of Hewitt would go to the Ballet, but it happened. Sunday, April 29^th was our first experience at observing some of the preforming arts. You are probably wondering how people on a fixed income like us, could end up at SMU in Dallas on a Sunday evening.

               In the olden days when I was working, it would be a truck line or other vendor taking us to some type event.  Now we have to pay our own way to nice events or, “win a radio contest by knowing the correct answer”.  Some time you just have to be the “15^th caller” to be a winner.

               Speaking of winning I won $8.00 on the Texas Power Ball this past week and $4.00 the prior week. They say the odds of winning Power Ball are 1 in 34, which are better odds than the Lotto. I would rather win a million or more and I might do that this week.

               We drove to Dallas Sunday afternoon and went to SMU. The parking lots around the Auditorium were full, we had to park several blocks away in a shopping area and walk to the auditorium.  I guess we were a little late as we had to sit in seats that were about 6 rows from the back on and the right side. The seats were smaller than airline seat and we all know how small they are.

               Talk about being seated, I went to the eye doctor today. I was supposed to go tomorrow but they called and changed the date and time last week.  They want their patients to arrive 15 minutes prior to the appointment, but they never stick with their schedule. Today I waited 45 minutes past my appointment time, when you add the 15 minutes that I arrived early, it was an hour of sitting in a waiting room with a lot of old people. Old defined is; people at least as old as me. At my previous appointment, they allowed me to sit in their waiting room for an hour plus the 15 minutes I arrived early.  The good thing about today, the doctor did not dilate my eyes. It seems as if I am doing ok except for the cataracts.  He said when I feel like the cataracts are a problem to let him know and they would remove them. Leaving it up to me, wow.

               I departed from the main subject; as we sat in our small seats we heard the bell informing people that they had 5 minutes before curtain call. More people filed in and took their seats. The final one minute bell rang and I could not believe the number of people basically running to get in their seats.

               The announcer asked everyone to either turn their phones to silent or off. The lights went down and I could hardly believe the number of lights from cell phones. It is bad enough when people sit around tables in restaurants looking at their smart phones, never talking to others, but in a dark auditorium, come on. 

               Even though it was a Ballet the first act was tap dancing. I did not expect tap but it was ok. The Ballet finally started and I actually enjoyed the dancing. Gabi was in a group that was Tinker Bell type Fairies. They all had wings and they danced around the stage.  Obviously Gabi’s group was the best of all the groups. After the show was complete Gabi was given flowers and we got a photo.

               After this photo was taken we went out to have supper. 

               I should not admit to this but, since we arrived home later than usual Sunday night, both Donna and I over slept by about an hour Monday morning. That is not unusual for me, but it is for Donna.

From the always twirling and pirouetting mind of                 Don Ford

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

Day Dream or Real

I am sure you know how a dream can seem so real, that when you wake up you wish it wasn’t a dream…

It is Saturday April 28^th; the weather is good but somewhat windy. I am focused on a ride into the Hill Country and the possibility of real Texas BBQ for lunch.

The same wind that has been drying the ground much faster than expected, will be pushing my motorcycle around if I ride to the Hill Country.

FYI, for those of you that are not familiar with the Hill Country it is south west of Waco, west of Austin and San Antonio. The area has many hills and lots of curvy roads which make it fun riding. Also wealthy people have a tendency to build homes in certain parts of the Hill Country. Fredericksburg, TX is a tourist trap town with lots of shopping (not my favorite). 

               A friend mentioned in an email that she was hungry for some BBQ. This got me to thinking about Texas BBQ and the possibility that I might want to participate during a noon meal.

               I had decided on Llano, TX. This is about 130 miles from home. That double “L” in the spelling (Llano) is odd. Coopers Old Time Pit Bar-B-Que is the name of the establishment I hoped to visit. I need to leave about 9:00am to arrive at the Lunch hour. As crowded as they usually are arriving after the lunch rush might be prudent.   There are several roads that will take me to Llano all I need to do is decide on either the fastest route or a fun ride route. Fun ride won, I prefer to stay off the interstates unless I am in a hurry.

               The Gold Wing had been washed yesterday and it did not have a bug on the windshield (unusual). It had a full tank of gas and there were a couple bottles of water in the trunk. All I needed to do was get my helmet, gloves and riding jacket and hit the road. No, it wasn’t cold. My jacket has armor in the arms and back just in case I was to go sliding down the road I would have some protection. No it isn’t real armor, it is plastic but it is strong and will help protect retired seniors when they fall. Maybe I need to wear the jacket all the time.

               On the road, I am heading southwest; the wind is strong when I ride through the open areas. The ride for the most part was uneventful, I noticed that the Bluebonnets were gone, my eyes were a little itchy from the tree pollens that the wind was stirring up. 

               After a couple hours of riding and one short break, I came into Llano on Hwy 29 which not so incidentally was the road that Cooper’s was on. Hwy 29 was also W. Young St.

Llano has a small lake in town with a small dam that can be seen from Hwy 71. I have sat outside the junk stores (while my lovely wife was inside shopping) and watched the locals swimming near the dam. 

               A few blocks away I could see some white smoke in the sky, I assume it was from the BBQ pits. It was about 12:15, there was a lot of traffic in the little town so I was riding very slow, watching for the drivers that are not watching for me. The head lights on my motorcycle have a pulsing mode; they rapidly go from bright to dim. These pulsating lights usually get the drivers attention. Occasionally they think I am a police officer and pull over.

               About a block away from Cooper’s I first started to faintly smell the fabulous aroma of smoked Brisket, Chicken, Sausage, Steaks and more. I had told my friend I would think about her when I was eating but I actually thought about her as soon as the aroma drifted under my face shield.  Evidently the wind was blowing at me, the closed I got the stronger the smoked flavors were.

               I arrived and as usual there were no visible parking spaces. I said visible because occasionally I can ride through a full parking lot and find a parking spot just right for my bike. I parked next to the dumpster.

               I removed the helmet and jacket; the fragrance was causing me to salivate. I was imaging the tender sliced brisket, cold slaw, potato salad and the beans. Cooper’s has a pot of beans on the counter where the silverware is kept and you can have all you want.

               I walked through the line getting all the above mentioned items and my unsweetened tea. $16.82 for my noon meal, but I did not let the cost distract me from my goal of enjoying 20 minutes of “heaven on earth”. Looking for a seat I was hoping to sit next to a pretty young lady but that wasn’t going to happen. There was an open seat next to an older lady. As I walked close I could smell someone’s perfume over the aroma of the brisket.  No way would I sit there.

Keep looking, I thought, there must be another open seat. Just then across the room 3 people got up from their seats, I had found my seat. I would sit next to a fellow that was as old and ugly as me. I climbed over the bench and sit down.

               I took my plastic fork and tried to cut through the brisket. I had to use the plastic knife, but if I would have had real silverware, the fork would have been all I would need. Lifting the fork with the brisket toward my mouth, I knew the brisket was going to taste so good; I again thought of my friend.

               Was it a “Day Dream” or “Real”?  

From the aroma filled salivating mind of        Don Ford

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.                                        Fiction

                                                                                                                  

                  

Yard Work

I decided to take a photo in an effort to show my creativeness and artistic skills with a mower. Knowing that “you” have nothing better to do than to look at a photo of my yard I have posted it here, enjoy. 

May I suggest that you get a cup of coffee and take about 5 minutes to fully digest the loveliness of the “Ford’s Front Yard.

               Last year we went through a drought and everyone trusted that the spring rains would put an end to the dry weather. It seemed like it rained every other day for a couple months then about 3 weeks ago the rain stopped. The ground was dry enough that our neighbor was actually able to till a garden spot in his back yard.

               As I was preparing to take this photo when a neighbor stopped her car and asked if I could teach her husband to mow like that. Everyone knows how modest I am so my reply was, “shucks mam, aint nothen”.  I continued, “For $12.95 I could sell him a copy of my book (a best seller in Lee Roy, TX six days in a row), “Secretes to a Successful Yard, by             Don Ford”.

               Below I have another photo taken the same day as the photo above. If you have a week heart maybe you should divert your eyes. In all honesty, it is difficult for me to believe how dry the ground is after all the spring rains. This is a spot that is shaded most of the day with almost no grass.

               Hopefully this is not a sign of what this summer will be.

 

 

Brilliant People can do dumb things

Of course when I discuss brilliant people I will most often be speaking of myself. As I have previously stated (and if I didn’t I should have) my garden tiller would not start due to having left gas in it for a couple years (that is the dumb thing I did).

               I normally run the gas out of my equipment before storing for a period of time. If you leave gas in any motor it will breakdown and eventually turn into a varnish. This varnish will clog up the carburetor and gas lines.  I could not remember the last time I used the tiller so I assume 2 to 3 years of sitting.

               My neighbor offered to purchase my tiller so he could till his garden. I offered to loan it to him but he did not want to barrow it. That is what caused me to think about the tiller. I got the old tiller (it must be 20 years old) and I was surprised that it still had about a third of a tank of gas in it. I tried to start it hoping against hope that it might run. Nope, it was D O A.

Being an expert mechanic I decided to clean out the gas tank, carburetor and gas lines.
I took auto mechanics in my senior year and I was one of two students that were offered a job at the local Chevy dealer after graduation. Having that offer made me feel good so naturally I went to work at, “The South East Missourian News Paper”.              The only class I made “A” in was auto mechanics (actually it was “E”) and I go to work at a newspaper. I was lucky if I made a “D” in English or any other subject.

I removed the gas tank to which the carburetor was attached. This carburetor is different from what I expected. There is no external gas line and no gas bowl or float.  I am use to the gas flowing by gravity to a bowl on the carburetor with a float that operated a needle valve which controlled the flow of gas.  The gas line on this carb was a part metal part rigid plastic with a screen that went to the bottom of the tank. 

I drained the gas from the tank and began to dismantle the carburetor. If you haven’t smelled old stale gas that has turned to varnish you will not understand when I say it was difficult to wash the smell off my hands. My wife even asked what the small was when I came inside to wash.

Below is the carburetor that’s mostly dismantled.  A lot of carburetor cleaner, some shop towels, a tooth brush and compressed air along with an hours work and it was clean and ready to replace.

               Using my unlimited knowledge of mechanical process I was able to re assemble all the parts. I decided to check the V belts and they were both worn out. I replaced the belts and I was ready to attempt to start the motor.  Just a few pulls on the rope to get the fresh gas to the carburetor and the motor came to life.

               I am now able to start the tiller on the second pull and it tills like a new machine.

I did not expect this to be interesting, I wrote if for my own pleasure. 

From the Yard Working Mechanical mind of           Don Ford

All rights reserved, and reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                                                                                                                  

                  

Young'uns

Buddies from a young age. We were possibly 3 years old. The young man on the left is Dr. Paul Kitchen, the young man on the right is his handsome uncle, me. Have you noticed even as a child I was always “right”? In this photo I am three months older that Paul.  I have stayed three months older throughout the years.

I believe this photo to have been taken in 1950.

Let us review this photo. The swing appears to be too high above the ground for youngsters like us. It appears we are about to slip off the swing seat.  These shoes were probably all the rage in that day.  Paul’s pants seem to be kind of short; mine has one leg rolled up higher than the other.  Do you like those white socks?

It does not appear that there was much grass to mow.  You can see a building on the left of this photo which may have been an outhouse. We must have been wealthy as there is a wood fence in the back ground. You might notice the items against the building on the right.  I assume there were no safety concerns for kids our age.

I can remember mom buying pants for me (when I was a couple years older) that was as much as 4 inches too long.  Kids would wear them rolled up and they could grow in to them. 

               This photo was taken in Smelterville which was in south Cape Girardeau. Where did the name Smelterville came from?  I was told there use to be a Smelter in the area, ergo Smelterville. 

               Smelterville is no longer there.  The entire area was in a Flood Plane and anytime the Mississippi would flood Smelterville would be flooded.  Many of the houses were built about 4 feet above the ground.

There use to be many houses on both side of the tracks and even a few small grocery stores.  The First Pentecostal Church was located there. There was a gas station and a couple bars. The packing house (it was a slaughter house for cattle and hogs) was located there and at times when the wind was out of the south it provided a massive aroma.  When the smell was strong from the packing house people would say, “The doors of the packing house are open”. As a kid I believed that the smell came out when they opened the doors. There was a train track that went through community.  It was a nice community even though most of the residents were poor. 

               The cement plant was and is still located just south of Smelterville.

Young’uns; is Missourian speak meaning young one or young kids.                

From the young right mind of       Don Ford

All rights reserved, any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                                                                                                                 

                  

Frog Gigging

Let’s be clear from the start, Frog Gigging is not an electronic game… 

Did you ever go gigging?  Gigging is defined in part as, “the practice of hunting fish or small game with a gig or similar multi-pronged spear”.  My experience at frog gigging was at about age 15.  I wasn’t old enough to drive but a friend was, so several of us decided to go gigging.  The gigs we had were three pronged and each prong had a barb on the end so the frog could not easily get off if you speared him. We had two gigs, each had a 6 or 8 foot handles on them and one had a heavy string in the handle so it could be thrown several feet and pulled back without wading in deep water.

Other necessary equipment was boots, (the taller the better) a flash light for walking and one for spotting. The walking light just had to be good enough to see where you were walking so you did not trip over anything as you walked through a field to get to a pond (tank in Texas). The spotting light needed to be bright and powerful so you could hopefully see the frogs.

Try to envision 4 teenage boys in an old 49 Chevy going down the road at night holding the two gigs out the window of the car. We knew where several ponds were but we had not asked permission of any of the owners.  We never got into trouble, possibly due to no one knowing we were there.

This is the process as I remember it. Drive down a country road to get as close as possible to the first pond. Since we had not gotten permission we attempted to climb the fences and walk through the fields to the pond without using the flash light. We knew where the ponds were because one or more of us had worked for these farmers hauling hay and that type work. When we arrived at the pond we would wade into the water staying several feet away from the bank. The theory behind this was, the frogs would be on the bank and we would have a better view of the bank (which had brush and tall weeds) from the water.

It should be understood that knee boots did not help much because we were often in waist deep water. The fact that there is always 6 to 8 inches of mud on the bottom of the pond and mud was an obstacle. 

Another part of my frog gigging experience was the fact that we waded into and walked through places that we would not have considered being in during daylight hours. The fact that you can’t see everything around you made it easy for us to “go where no man has gone before”. That statement sounds familiar…

For the entire evening of hunting we harvested (notice how I did not say killed, harvested is more politically correct and everyone knows I like to be politically correct) 4 frogs and none were that big. I don’t remember who took the frogs but I did not want to try and clean them and cook them.  I understand the frog legs will at times attempt to jump when placed in a hot pan.  I still have never had frog legs. 

 

As stated earlier “Frog Gigging” is not yet an electronic game although it could easily be made in to one.

ü  It could be advertised as a hand/eye coordination tool for the young hunter.

ü  Not actually harvesting a frog would allow the young hunter to be politically correct while enjoying the thrill of the hunt.

ü  Using gigs and not guns would allow the government to offer a grant to help develop the game.

ü  The young hunter would stay dry and germ free, no actual wading the ponds.

ü  No exercise will increase the kids desire to have the game.

ü  At the end of the game the player would need to count the frogs harvested, so it could be considered a learning experience.

I would be happy to consult with the developer of the “Frog Gigging Game” for a small percentage. 

 

From the always hopping mind of        Don Ford

 

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

 

 

Watch Out

Third time is charm?

               Just before Christmas my Wife of 43 years bought me a Pocket Watch from Kay’s Jewelers. It was a pretty watch, not battery power but a wind up watch.  I know, you are wondering where I get the energy to wind the watch daily. It is due to superior upper body strength that I, a retire person can manually wind the watch daily. I know someone wants to know where my wife got the money to purchase this watch and I will tell you. Early each morning she goes for a walk and she takes a bag with her.  She walks along the road picking up aluminum cans which she sells.  She saves this money to buy presents for me. People see her picking up cans and they think she is being civic minded. 

               About mid-January the pocket watch (let’s call it #1) broke; it would no longer wind.  I took it back expecting to hear comments like, “you must have over wound the watch”. I know how to wind the watch and I did not over wind the watch.  They gave me a new watch, no questions asked, because it was within 30 days of purchase. The second watch (#2) kept better time than the first, so I was happy for two months until #2 broke.  This time the winder would wind but when you let go it would unwind. I had been even more careful with number two watch when winding it. There was a warranty purchased so I took it back.  This time they had to send it in for repair.

               I had bought another pocket watch from Wal-Mart for $12.99. This watch was battery powered and kept excellent time. My intent was to use it when working around the house and the more expensive watch at other times.

               19 days passed and I had heard nothing from Kay’s. I initiated the call to them and the salesman said, he was thinking about my watch this morning; he would check and get back to me. 10 minutes later he returned my call and said the watch was there I could come and get it.

               I wondered how long my watch had been at the store. I went in and he gave me the watch saying, “it was a new watch (#3) and the 2 year warranty was now void”.  If I want a warranty on the new watch I would have to pay for it again. 

At this point I began to explain to Frank (the salesman) what I thought about a two year warranty that is void if they have to replace the watch. Not being happy I allowed my non-existent Ford temper to slightly come to the surface, I call Frank Fred, and I took the time to explain that I knew his name was Frank. I pointed my finger at him while I explained that I thought a good business, those that cared about their customers, would not sell a 2 year warranty that expired before the two years were up especially when they were selling watches that were obviously inferior in quality.  He attempted to explain to me that it was in the warranty document, but I interrupted him explaining that they should explain the warranty better when a customer purchases it.  

               I took the watch home and as of now it is still working. To make a short story longer, I contacted the home company of Kay’s and after a couple phone conversations they gave me a 2 year warranty on watch #3.  If there is a need to replace watch #3, that would void the new warranty.

               In the mean time I like the cheap watch from Wal-Mart so I decided to purchase another but this one would be a gold tone, still costing $12.99.  Gold tone #1 broke the first day so I returned it and they gave me #2. The Wal-Mart #2 watch broke three days later and I will take it back today. Hopefully third time is charm.

               The first watch I purchased from Wal-Mart is still working.

From the watchful and charmed mind of                Don Ford

All rights reserved; any reproduction or distribution without written permission is strictly prohibited.

                                                                                                                  

                  

Shed or not here I cut.

Chapter three

            Below is a tree that I have decided to cut down and you can see it is next to my shed.  As soon as the yard gets dry enough so I can back my trailer into the yard I plan to cut major limb groups off the tree without damage to the shed.

Monday Morning was a morning like many other mornings at the Ford estate, Mr. Ford (me) bounces out of bed several minutes prior to the alarm going off. After a quick trip to the little boy’s room I started my morning stretching routine. I feel it is wise to stretch before I begin working out.  Today instead of a routing of pushups and sit ups followed by a two mile run I decided to have a bowl of cereal and some coffee while checking to see if I had any email.  You do know that my comment about exercise each morning is a trivial exaggeration. 

               It had not rained this past weekend so my plan for the day was to attempt to cut a limb croup from the tree next to the shed. I call it a limb group because it is one big limb approx. 12 inched in diameter, coming off the stump of the tree that turns into to two other 8 inch limbs. Less experienced wood butchers may have cut one of the 8 inch limbs at a time and in hind sight possibly I should have followed that path.

               David and I had moved the swing set the night before so I had a clear area to drop the limb/s in. I got my chain saw and went over the safety precautions along with the starting instruction since I had not use the saw in the last 6 months.

               The last time I had started the chain saw I had it and my gas powered pole saw with some other tools in the yard ready to butcher a different tree.  The gas power pole saw will allow me to reach about 6 feet and still be able to cut limbs of about 6 inches or less.

As I was getting ready to use the pole saw when I noticed the bar and chain area needed to be cleaned. The saw dust was blocking the chain oiler and that would not be good for the chain. To thoroughly clean this area one had to remove the chain and bar which I did. After about 10 minutes of through professional type cleaning (yes I am also an expert at cleaning since my lovely wife forces me to clear the table and wash dishes) I was ready to reassemble the unit and adjust the chain tension. 

All the parts back together, chain adjusted I am ready to start cutting. I start the pole saw to get the motor warmed up. A warm motor is easier to start and when you are on top of an 8 foot step ladder. I shut the motor off and climbed the ladder. Once positioned on the ladder I started the motor on the first pull.  I picked the limb to be cut and applied the saw to the chosen limb.

The saw was running but not cutting. I thought, “Now what is going on”. I shut the saw off, climbed down the ladder and I took a close look at the chain. Yes you guessed it, the chain was on backwards. 

I had a short kind of laugh at myself and took the chain off the bar.  I put the chain back on and readjusted the tension.

Once I was safely at the top of the ladder (which wasn’t too safe because you are not supposed to work from a sitting position on the top of the ladder) I gave the motor one pull on the rope and the saw buzzed to life (it is a small saw so it did not roar to life). I move the saw into position at the same limb and begin the cut. The chain moved but it would not cut. 

I stopped the saw motor and sit there for a minute.  I could not have been that dumb. An expert such as me could not have put the chain on backwards twice. So, what was wrong?

               I carefully climbed down from the ladder I checked the chain. Yep it was on backwards again. At this point the “nonexistent Ford temper” was about to come in play.

I calmly removed the chain and put it back on the saw. I check it several times to be sure it was on correctly.  Having installed it properly this time, I took it to the shed and put it away. I then put the regular chain saw, other tools and ladder away. 

I have found it is better to have a cooling off period if I become upset. That was six months ago and I had not used the chain saw since, although I had use the pole saw.

               Back to present day, I decided on the exact angle of the first cut and where the second cut would be. If all goes well the tree limb will fall forward away from the shed and the stump portion of the limb will not kick back against the shed.

I made the first cut about 5 inches deep. I removed the wedge of wood leaving the open cut that will direct the tree to fall forward. I went to the back side of the tree and made the second cut, which should have been the final cut. The limb cracked, I shut the saw off and stepped away. 

The massive limb began to move forward slowly, but the smaller limbs in the top of the tree were against other small limbs eventually stopping the forward motion. I waited a couple minutes and nothing. 

I walked around the shed and on the opposite side of the tree I leaned against the fence.  It was at this point I realized the limb was taller than I had thought. It was actually tall enough that if it fell south, toward where I was standing instead of east it could hit the electrical lines going to my house. 

I felt a sinking feeling come over me.  What can I do?  The limb is not moving but if it does move and falls to the south I am in trouble.  I decided to get the pole saw and attempt to make another cut that I hope would cause the limb/s to start to fall again.

Moving back around to the north side of the limb I begin to cut the limb above the “Y” in hopes the cut would shift the weight of the limb and bring it down. I completed the cut and nothing. I had cut as deep as I could with the 6 inch pole saw blade. 

Suddenly there was a loud crack as the limb gave way.  It was like a slow motion movie as the limb fell. 

I am not sure whether it was “the luck of the Irish” or if I was “Bless by God”, possibly both. The limb fell exactly where I had planned and a couple hours later it was cut up and most loaded on a trailer. 

No more tree cutting stories for a while.

From the Blessed Irish mind of     Don Ford

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