I have somewhat of a problem. There are no hardwood merchants in any of the local towns within a 300 km radius.
For one of my projects I make bases for the ceramic lamps Eylene, Matilda’s daughter, is creating. Fortunately I have a fairly large wood pile gathered over the years that provided most of what I needed, but the one particular base asked for something more bulky.
While gently mulling over a few of my plans in getting the wood, I went on a Sunday picnic with Matilda and my father down at the stream running through the farm. There I discovered this huge old tree trunk, felled by a storm years ago. The following week I strolled down with the dogs and cut myself a nice piece of wood. Then I went home and turned the base. It looks real nice.
This young tortoise comes home all bruised and battered.
“What happened to you?” asks his mother.
“I was at the club and on my way out I bumped into this snail. “Watch where you’re going!” I told him. Two of his friends meanwhile also arrived on the scene.
“What happened next?”
“To be honest Mom, it all happened so fast I can’t remember.”
I had a problem. I got a tree. I have a base. My tortoise story.
I managed to take some pictures though.
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