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On the side of a hill in the deep forest green, tracing a sparrow on snow-crested ground,
blankets and bedclothes the child of the mountain sleeps unaware of the clarion call.
On the side of a hill, a sprinkling of leaves washes the grave with silvery tears,
a soldier cleans and polishes a gun.
War bellows, blazing in scarlet battalions, generals order their soldiers to kill
and to fight for a cause they've long ago forgotten

Thursday, September 1, 2011

The bad news is good

For the deck project, turns out the dweeble that built our house had even more nails holding the posts to the deck. He nailed the post to the joist. And not the end joist, but one of the middle ones. So I'll be able to remove all of the posts and just replace those. That'll make the weekend easier.

Yeah.

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