Hey Smed,
I just got through reading the 2007 "Darwin Awards" (http://darwinawards.com/ ) and got to thinkin about our annual ice fishing trip. Man I can remember the first time we laid eyes on that ol' shack like it was yesterday:
"The ice-hut was conceived from thoughts of frozen toes and a runny nose. And, according to Sam, it would be a nice place to relax and read a good book if the fish weren’t biting. It became a living, breathing thing on a cold January day in a carpenter’s workshop, several hours drive from its final destination. Isn't an ice-hut, something that's designed to give warmth and shelter to cold weary fisherman, a thing that should be crafted lovingly with ones own hands? Could it be that it resented being traded for a couple of maple logs cut from Sam’s woodlot?
Perhaps even inanimate objects have feelings and require an element of respect. Sometimes that respect is inherent, like when you gaze upon a well-crafted fishing rod or reel. Other times it must grow over time, like a new pair of boots. In rare circumstances the object blatantly demands your respect, something that may take years to realize.
Red-Green, affectionately named after the fictitious TV handyman, arrived at t
he lake in late January, the biting depths of the Southern Ontario winter, during the worst thunderstorm I’d seen in years. Fields were flooded and took on the appearance of small lakes. Streams turned to raging torrents and gnawed through the constraints of their banks at every opportunity. Was it coincidence, or omen of things to come?"
...Well Smed ol' buddy we need to make some plans. Talk to ya soon.
Ed
sponsored by: http://www.distinctnorthernart.com/
I just got through reading the 2007 "Darwin Awards" (http://darwinawards.com/ ) and got to thinkin about our annual ice fishing trip. Man I can remember the first time we laid eyes on that ol' shack like it was yesterday:
"The ice-hut was conceived from thoughts of frozen toes and a runny nose. And, according to Sam, it would be a nice place to relax and read a good book if the fish weren’t biting. It became a living, breathing thing on a cold January day in a carpenter’s workshop, several hours drive from its final destination. Isn't an ice-hut, something that's designed to give warmth and shelter to cold weary fisherman, a thing that should be crafted lovingly with ones own hands? Could it be that it resented being traded for a couple of maple logs cut from Sam’s woodlot?
Perhaps even inanimate objects have feelings and require an element of respect. Sometimes that respect is inherent, like when you gaze upon a well-crafted fishing rod or reel. Other times it must grow over time, like a new pair of boots. In rare circumstances the object blatantly demands your respect, something that may take years to realize.
Red-Green, affectionately named after the fictitious TV handyman, arrived at t
he lake in late January, the biting depths of the Southern Ontario winter, during the worst thunderstorm I’d seen in years. Fields were flooded and took on the appearance of small lakes. Streams turned to raging torrents and gnawed through the constraints of their banks at every opportunity. Was it coincidence, or omen of things to come?"...Well Smed ol' buddy we need to make some plans. Talk to ya soon.
Ed
sponsored by: http://www.distinctnorthernart.com/
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