|Rhody and Dan tend NC's old cash crop|
As winters have been in the last decade here in NC, this one was first an exciting entrance, with snow and icy winds, and us walking out to the road where the truck could safely park, and spinning out on the ice when the road turned out to be not so safe. But after all that big first third flurry, things settled in to wood fires and scraping the windshield. There was always enough time to harvest dead fall and snag to keep ahead of the pace, and I still see a chance of meeting my permanent goal of ending winter with four good piles curing for next year, and done before the ticks really come out and make being in the woods a danger and discomfort, not to mention avoiding the copperhead encounter that's certainly a possibility amongst the upturned and disinterred stillnesses wood-hunting entails now and again. And so it is March, and the Heels have turned into a "freight train," to quote Tony Kornhauser, a good man indeed, and we give thanks that the NC sportwriters managed to leave every Tar Heel off the First Team ACC list, even when the Heels have the Regular Season Champeenship in pocket and look poised to take the Tourney as well. Toss another shovel in the firebox, you can hear old 97 roll. I had to laugh when Julius Hodge opined on the radio yesterday that Drew II was a simpering bushwad for deserting his mates in midseason, but on the other hand, that's what Tar Heels did, Mr. Hodge being the epitome of a State Fan and one of the greatest State Players since Sammy Ranzino and Ronnie Shavlik, meaning Julius can indeed talk the talk, and Lenny Rosenbluth always did drive State crazy with that oh-so fey jump shot of his, and never in his life drove to the basket when he could hit a fall-away. (And even Mr. Hodge must admit the true fact that pasty Rosie accomplished 32-0 against the greatest player of the 20th Century, including getting the Wilt fouled out for the last of the 3 o.t.s--whereas the year previous the Wolfies went 4 o.t.s against Cansius... and Lost.)
We'll be driving back from Greenville, a non-ACC town, this coming Sunday, hopefully at least hearing a Championship Game which includes Carolina. Why we booked a dance on the Tourney weekend I don't know. I never think to look ahead when we book things. Libby and I played our worst gig at the Cave the night UNC won the semis in the NCAAs in '93, and the teevee was telling people to stay clear of Chapel Hill (where the Cave resides) cause the kids were burning cars in the streets. The bar owner was so pissed off she tossed our only drunk fan because he kept requesting (but in a nice way) a song we didn't know.
Here in NC it could be 85 before it's Spring. It's happened. We have a big roof-painting plan, Libby and me. When I put up the tin roof in '79 I thought it would last forever, but just like Republicans, rust really does never ever sleep, and acid rain does not help either, nor leaves from all the big oak trees I didn't cut down when I sited the cabin back in '79. I thought it was like pitching a tent, and that anyways, I could always do it again if a tree fell wrong. So far the shade has out weighed the possibilities.
Meanwhile, in Wisconsin, where it's still snowing, it begins to look as if the Gov. has made a tactical error in his role as point for the destruction of the American way of life. People are even laughing at him.* It would be sweet to see him melt down, like a chocolate Easter Bunny forgotten on the sidewalk, little white patent leather shoes disappearing in the distance towards home and a Sunday chicken dinner, church bells tolling a brand new year, the damp earth rolled over by the old spring tooth harrow, the rattle and clink of harness. "Gee, boy, gee."