Clowdy (agin). Breeze WNW. 9 degrees. Brrr.

Some lovely rain overnight. About 20 mils in the bottom of Luke's feed bin. I get to shower again. First thing on the agenda is to get the fire going. I stocked up on wood last Saturday. . .

I had spied my quarry on the way into town, up in a paddock, off the track, it looked like it might be possible to get the car up there and armed with chainsaw I went back on Saturday. I hesitated driving up the hill, there was a rocky ledge to get across. I should not have done so, as the ledge wasn't much and the snail's pace I was moving at did not provide the momentum needed to ascend the grassy slope and so the wheels simply spun. It would take longer to carry the wood down, but its not as though I was in a hurry. I parked.

I carried the first three logs back to the car; it is good wood, hard, the logs are about six inches in diameter. My arms were aching by the time I got to the car and I grumpily realised I'd have to repeat this tedious performance at least a dozen times, up and down the hill to fetch a pail of water carrying wood. Trudging back to the top, sawn up branches scattered hither thither, I thought about efficiency in this procedure and decided to hurl the wood together so at least it was in one pile. Instead I threw it, as far down the hill as I could, piece by piece. I wondered as I hurled each piece in stages down the hill whether this was mad or smart. No matter--done now. Next job--the block buster. Life is a dangerous eh?