Long-time readers will remember a time when all we did was cut down trees. Over and over again.  For a while there, it seemed that all we would ever do was cut down trees.  It even made us slightly delusional at one point.  But we did it.  We whined about it here afterwards, but we did it.  And then we actually started building the house and forgot the pain of cutting down trees.  Foolish, foolish us.

This weekend we got to experience it all again. We had to finish clearing the area for the septic system and field, mostly in the “build it and they will come” optimism that the only thing keeping our contractors from finishing was us holding up our end of the bargain.  Because it is now July and the heat (and, despite all the eyebrow-raised doubt received from our more Southerly friends in this post, it is hot.  Trust us), and the humidity, and the bugs are in full swing, cutting down trees this time was a whole new exciting experience.  Plus, we learned that the layers of clothing required to work outside in Maine in February and March (when it is cold, unless folks from Alaska and Saskatchewan would like to argue about that with us, not that we’re bitter) also serve a protective function.  Shorts and t-shirts don’t work quite as well in protecting from scrapes and bumps and downed spruce trees that seem determined to exact their revenge by inflicting 10,000 microscopic wounds.

So we spent the weekend covered in sweat, bug spray, sunscreen, dirt, sap, and a wee bit of blood.  And we didn’t finish.  But we did what we could.  And then we went to our reward: the local swimming hole.

We don’t get to do that in February.

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