After an uneventful and rainy weekend, I was looking forward to getting back in the woods early Monday morning. And, as you might expect, that’s just what I did.
Goodbye July!
A good summer month of lumbering for me is roughly 120 to 130 miles. July was not one of those months.
A combination of extreme heat and humidity, Canadian wildfire smoke, appliance repairmen in the house, and an intense battle with the black dog had my July screwed.
Sluggish and Uncompressed
After the mood I was in last week 1, I was surprised to have such a good weekend that featured a whole lot of not much.
The First Six of ’26
Today I’m doing something I’ve wanted to do in years past, but never really got around to doing it: a photo gallery from the first six months of a year of lumbering and photo creeping. Which, of course, will be followed by the second six months come January.
The Call of The Wood Thrush
It’s taken me close to two weeks, but I finally had a lumber that produced some OK images. Not great, but OK enough that I dig them.
Something Told Me
I woke up Thursday morning at 5:20, fed the dog, and thought about the morning’s lumber. Something was telling me to skip it, and after a few minutes of internal discussions, I decided that I was not one to argue with “something,” and pulled the plug.
Better, Good Enough
All aboard the Depression Express (TOOT! TOOT!), next stop: Crazy Town!
No, I’m not going to bore you with tales of the random fits of depression and anger that I’ve been dealing with for a few days now, mostly because I can feel it ebbing away like a lost erection into the soft man-FUPA of life. Also because I don’t know what the cause of it was, other than being bored with life, not sleeping well, not enjoying who and what I’ve become/not become, and wanting the world to normal up for just a gahdamn minute—ONE MINUTE!!
But, like I said, ebbing and shit. So, into the woods, Fat Man!
Post-Smoke Lumbering
If you listen closely, you can hear it; it’s the sound of me exiting a cocoon of gelatinous, depressive slack like a birthed Orc. Only it smells worse and looks even worse-er.
From Tolerable To Stank
Wednesday’s lumber was more of the same, with my aging ass in the woods and on the trail at 6:05 AM to avoid the worst of the day’s stifling heat and humidity.
Tolerating The Heat, Other Things
The weekend was the weekend; I did intervals on the Dreadmill on Saturday morning, and I made the best of watching the Round of 8 World Cup matches (C’MON ENGLAND!) whilst making bad decisions.
The weekend also helped kick off the annual “Week of Me,” which started on Sunday when Wifey and I celebrated our 29th wedding anniversary. Yes, yes, I am just as surprised as you that she’s still here, but to know me is to tolerate me, and Wifey does it very well. AND I think she MIGHT even love me.