Return from the Woods

Grampy is still the King in the eyes of an almost three year old.  We shared magical bonding time over campfires, horses and four wheeler rides deep in the woods of Maine.  All you need is love in life and my vacation reflected that as best could be.  I wanted to counter that evil taking place on the west coast and in spite of the accident I hope I did.  What evil lies on the west coast you might ask.  Well that would be this.

http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/B…

My three year old climbed atop a Kawasaki fuel injected 750 ATV, turned the key and hit the start button.  He remembered that from last year.  I took my place behind him wrapping my left arm around his waist as usual.  We have neither helmets nor glasses on as we take our lead postion in a line of four ATVs.  Grampy knows the trails, makes the fire at night and became by default moose hunting trail guide of our family troup.  I am giving another generation some fun with a spirit of adventure that used to make America great.  Soon we have the wind in our hair as we make our way down the tunnel of green provided by this logging road.  Breathing the pine scented pure air in this place is reward enough for the journey but we would soon see mountains and perhaps a moose lumbering down the road.  His smile was ear to ear and he chatted away to me in his own language.  

This kind of love is so pure.  I want to show him what once was, what could be and I hope I live long enough to teach him.  He always makes sure he shares food with me.  He wants to help me cut wood, much to the dismay of his mother, and yes I had to make the effort to bury the axes into the chopping block hard to make sure he could not get them out.

Things in the woods are simple.  If you do not gather firewood there is no fire.  If you do not gather firewood before it rains there is no fire, unless you have a log storage unit, if you don’t and believe it may be a good idea so you can have perfect fire wood all year round, you could get log storage from gardensite.  It is a return to shit not of the electronic din prevalent today.  It accentuates the differences between city folk and my grandson saying “Hey good boys”, repeating my efforts to calm the horses.  It became the difference of two son-in laws.  One of them is stuck in the material world and the other is a conservative.  The conservative one is practical and the material one had to clean off the TV remotes extensively after his broken leg wife spilt milk all over them.  You all know I view TV as Satan’s vision and that yet another incident promting me to change my ideas on what to do should I ever get any of psycho-Mom’s money.

Now I know in my vacation there were any number of galactic earth shaking disasters of dire political consequence but I had to enjoy these last of days just one more time.  I know four wheelers and hauling campers up to remote camping spots is highly ungreen of me but people in the carbon trading gulags suck in my humble opinion.  They bitch at me if my lawn isn’t green, if I don’t have the proper permit to permit me to do something or if I park a certain vehicle in my yard which may upset them.  They lack the common sense that once was natural in all of us.  Live and let live.  I can either help you with my skills or guide you down the trail with no bridge.  I am gaining the skills even psychically which tell me.  Are you friend or are you foe.

Oh, and the final word on the green shit.  It was the coldest July in Maine I can remember.  Never have I had a depleted propane tank due to running heat in July.  Other years we are swimming the magical waters of the mountain stream.  Next trip we are bringing Christmas presents.  Global warming has morphed into Climate change but the Air Force owning the weather by 2025 and the High Altitude Aroral Research Project unlike gay rights are still not subjects taught to your average five year old.  Until that happens I will burn my plastic shit and smelt aluminum beer cans in the fire when other sheeple, parasitic tell me how to live assholes, are not around.

Mid October, still the Armageddon of Unicorn flu.  Get ready.