Our house sits atop a small hill that is covered with sugar maple trees. You know what this means, don’t you?
Sticks. Millions and millions of sticks.
BH is a man of many talents. He can build just about anything, fix most everything else, and run every power tool ever made. He does most of the serious work around here. Me? I can daydream and read real fast. You know what that means, don’t you?
I am the Official Stick Picker-Upper in our family. So that’s what I did today instead of going to the gym.
I have decided that we have shameless, wanton trees who shed their sticks with perverse abandon. I am convinced that all of the other maple groves in the area are inhabited by prim and proper trees who know how to hold on to all their bits in a stiff wind.