Axes and chainsaws.

So, my parents place had a couple of large branches fall off trees in the last week. Dad went out to deal with it. He's clearly feeling under the weather--he caught my cold, despite my best efforts--because he actually consented to have me take over on the chainsaw. Until now he'd refused, claiming it was "too dangerous".

(Mind you, when I was sixteen he'd dragged me outside, handed me the chainsaw, pointed at a fallen tree, and told me to cut it into pieces without visible concern, so I suspect that "too dangerous" was something of an excuse. At least unless chainsaws have gotten more dangerous recently.

I figure it's a combination of wanting to prove he can still do things, and being stubborn about doing things his way.)

Anyway, I spent the beautiful afternoon making little pieces of firewood out of big logs. Though I am achy, I am pleased.