Yonder peasant, who is he?

“Brightly shone the moon that night
Though the frost was cruel
When a poor man came in sight
Gathering winter fuel

 Hither, page, and stand by me,
If thou knowst it, telling
Yonder peasant, who is he?
Where and what his dwelling?
Sire, he lives a good league hence,
Underneath the mountain
Right against the forest fence
By Saint Agnes fountain.”

I have gone and done it. I have lost my chainsaw virginity. This must mean that I am “coming out” as a bumpkin. I have been in the closet for such a long time. I have left the sophisticated ways of Londres and now I am talking chainsaws down at the farm supply shop. I have swapped my leather brogues for some steel toe-capped boots.

We bought our first ever chainsaw today and started to convert this:

into fuel for next winter.

It looks like we already have two winter’s worth which means that the investment in the chainsaw will be paid off in winter one.

It is a nice feeling… and one that does not need a blue surgical mask: the smell of sawdust and oil.

Kinda cool…

Grilled Lamb Teriyaki for tea…

No rest for the wicked…