Brush Dancing

Our lives are better left to chance
I could have missed the pain
But I'd of had to miss the dance (Garth Brooks)

The ole ranch hand lucked into purchase of the Tin Star mid-year 2006. At that time, the Star was a brush infested jungle of cedar, oaks, elm, and steroid induced briers.

Now comes four years later after untold hours of sweat, blood, aggravation, and the pure joy of temporarily taming the "beast".

Sweat: Try July/August on the business end of a chain saw with no breeze in sight?

Blood: The old fat boy has a "wound" down the side of his neck this morn from the brush biting back yesterday while engaged in the act of doing battle with nature (and the total "wound" count is legendary).

Aggravation: Run a good chain saw on large timber all day long and it will sing. Ease it into small brush and watch it disintegrate before your eyes. True story, brush will eat a chain saw, spit it out, and stomp on the operator?

Joy: Ain't nuthin' better than sittin' back with a cold adult beverage at the end of a hard day and experiencing the visual pleasure of measuring one's progress in concert with the land.

Yeah, it's just "dancing" since the spring rains will bring the brush back with a vengeance, but simple pleasures are the best kind when one has no intention of ever "finishing" the job (and it amply makes the pain worthwhile!).