XXV
Tromping through a tree farm looking for a Christmas tree. I was dressed in much too nice of clothing to lie in the mud for 30 minutes sawing a tree down but it felt good when we were done and the ache in my right arm was proof of it. We ran across some milkweed and played like children. Pulling it apart and blowing it like fluffy bath bubbles. I was just recently back to this places and not much has changed. There were less weeds and more stumps. It was cold and rainy. The perfect weather for a re-visitation. My boots were soaked through by the time I was done but I left feeling accomplished. There is something primal about chopping down a tree and hauling it by hand. Working muscles that have gone weak from disuse. I miss the feeling after a day of hard, manual labor. I need to keep my hands and body busy. To breathe in fresh air. Cold air that burns your lungs when you take too deep of a breath. Not like the air here. Filled with exhaust and the shouts of people.
