![Minneapolis by AD reader Gordon Scott [Updated by GS in comments]](https://americandigest.org/wp/wp-content/uploads/2020/05/https___cdn.cnn_.com_cnnnext_dam_assets_200527104052-21-minneapolis-protests-0526-1-1024x682.jpg "Minneapolis by AD reader Gordon Scott [Updated by GS in comments]")
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He thought he kept the universe alone;
For all the voice in answer he could wake
Was but the mocking echo of his own
From some tree-hidden cliff across the lake.
Some morning from the boulder-broken beach
He would cry out on life, that what it wants
Is not its own love back in copy speech,
But counter-love, original response.
And nothing ever came of what he cried
Unless it was the embodiment that crashed
In the cliff’s talus on the other side,
And then in the far distant water splashed,
But after a time allowed for it to swim,
Instead of proving human when it neared
And someone else additional to him,
As a great buck it powerfully appeared,
Pushing the crumpled water up ahead,
And landed pouring like a waterfall,
And stumbled through the rocks with horny tread,
And forced the underbrush–and that was all.
When all Earth’s seas shall Levitate,
Dark shawled within the skies,
Upon our eyes will Starfish dance
Their waltz of Blind surprise.
The sun will Rise within wine Dark
As Argonauts imbibed,
Whose drunken arms embrace that sleep
Where Phaeton’s horses Stride.
Upon all of Earth’s wind-sanded shores,
As dolphins Learn to soar,
All we once were on the land
Shall be sealed behind the door
Of Ivory and Chastened Gold,
That the Mystery solved complete
Shall never til the seas’ Long fall
Wake mariners from their sleep.
— Van der Leun
I CELEBRATE myself, and sing myself,
And what I assume you shall assume,
For every atom belonging to me as good belongs to you.
I loafe and invite my soul,
I lean and loafe at my ease observing a spear of summer grass.
My tongue, every atom of my blood, form’d from this soil, this
air,
Born here of parents born here from parents the same, and their
parents the same,
I, now thirty-seven years old in perfect health begin,
Hoping to cease not till death.
— Walt Whitman
Shall I part my hair behind? Do I dare to eat a peach?
I shall wear white flannel trousers, and walk upon the beach.
I have heard the mermaids singing, each to each.
I do not think that they will sing to me.
I have seen them riding seaward on the waves
Combing the white hair of the waves blown back
When the wind blows the water white and black.
We have lingered in the chambers of the sea
By sea-girls wreathed with seaweed red and brown
Till human voices wake us, and we drown.
— The Love Song of J. Alfred Prufrock by T. S. Eliot
Gerard Van der Leun
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What a wonderful life that guy has had.
My advice? Choose the right parents, kids.
Got a fence job coming up-on a hill no less-with about 3 dozen fence pole holes I’ll be digging out…by hand. One of those augers sure would be nice
If you ever really want to get something done, hitch a “cat” to it.
Scott Wadsworth is a wordsmith. A friends wife who has no interest in tools watches these videos with him and is fascinated.
I agree, Joe. Scott*, as a guy who has worked with his hands all his life, has a substantial talent for crafting his words on video.
* I refer to the Essential Craftsman as “Scott” as though he and I were friends. As I do with our host here, I check the internets at least daily to see if my “internet-friend” has had something new to say today. However the truth of the matter is that whatever friendship relationship we share is merely electronic and very distant, and therefore something less than a true friendship. But were I ever to meet Scott (or Gerard, who introduced me to Scott), I’d like to think that we’d enjoy each other’s company and could share a coffee, soda pop, or beer, along with a laugh or two.
MM, you can always rent one. If you plan out all your holes, you should easily be able to knock out 36 in a day, and that’s a lot of effort saved.
I had a boss once that wanted me to dig a bunch of fence post holes by hand. The problem was, the property had a huge amount of gravel in the soil, so every hole was a huge chore. I got him out there and had him start the first hole while I moved the posts near where the holes would be. He was cussin’ and bitching every time he hit a rock.
Then I brought out the gas powered hole digger. It takes two to hold it properly, but the hole is done in 30 seconds. He was amazed, and then I told him I had just had the rental place bill it to him.
Mr. V.: Been trying to talk Geoff C. into renting a mini skid steer to tackle that mound in the backyard. Maybe this year I’ll prevail. Would LOVE to operate it and get that job done this summer.