Pitch Everywhere

The other day, my right hand helper and I were limbing the trees along the fence line of the 26 acre field.

The Douglas fir and white fir trees that grow along the upper edge of the field had limbs that stuck out above the fence and well into the field. The limbs shaded much of the grass in that upper neck and made it difficult to drive the tractor along the edge with the tips of the limbs hanging about head high.

I had written in earlier posts about how much I liked my saw on a stick, that really was an understatement. I love my pole saw, I use it as much as I can. I make sure that the battery is charged up and ready to go whenever I get the urge to work along a fence line or when releasing the understory of young fir trees.

On this day with my helper, we trimmed and hauled the branches away from the fence, and got peppered with drips of pitch during the work. At the end of the day, I slathered olive oil on the sticky spots and jumped into the shower for a quick scrub.

There was a meeting at the local Rice Museum of Rocks and Minerals so I had to hurry in order to get to the club meeting in time.  I was sitting there in the middle of a very interesting lecture about fossils when I happen to rub my hand across my jaw and felt a bump. Before I realized what it was, I had pitch smeared on my right hand. In an effort to get the smear off, I rubbed my hands together and promptly had both hands sticky along with my chin. The lecture was only about half over, and the room was packed tightly packed, and I was sitting right in the middle of the whole thing with a big sticky mess and smelling like a fir tree.

It sure was difficult to be dignified and still pay any attention to the rest of the lecture.