Hobo Jungle

[hev52]

I guess we will have to call that the Dirt's Sugar Shack...................................


Like the carpenter's Dirt. Send them on down here to build me another shack to put my Farmall H in................................



Nice pics Jon. nuthin' like a big ole' bonfire on a cool Fall night in Nov...........................





hev

[Del Mar]

Seems to be the usual crowd heading to Gomer's.



San

[webenda]

Andre,

I was wondering about that myself.

Alley - A clear track in a railroad yard.

[webenda]

San probably had enough bon fires last week to last a lifetime.

[The Dirt]

Peter nice, I hope is not for when your wife kick you out....
Andre.

Andre, that's about every other day!
I usually head out to that shed back in the pines. It's far enough away from the house that the yelling is drowned out by the wind whistling through the needles.
The hobo's lot.

Jon, you da man with that camera. Another great photo.
Man, everytime I look at your wife, I think, you sure married 'up', brother!

Pete, did you dig out each individual root? If not, they'll be proud to go to hell 'cause multiflora rose is the Devil in disguise. And, they'll be back again.

Bet you laid some DNA just cuttin' that stuff! An old rabbit hunter like me would know.

Mitch, I hired a neighbor. He's got an excavator on caterpillar tracks, has a bucket on one end with a hydraulic jaw that clamps on the bucket-teeth. He pulled all them sonofabitchinbastards out by the roots. Some of those GD bushes were 15 feet across!

Has a blade on the other end. He also leveled out the groundhog mounds. Hopefully it might suffocate some of those hibernating ratbastards.

Thing is, there was an unholy alliance going on, too. F-ing groundhogs would dig their holes underneath the canopy of branches.

I know my trials ain't over though. Thing is, in this crop program I'm in, I'm only supposed to mow 1/4 a year, which is why the problem developed in the first place. Under threats of spot-inspections and fines, I behaved. Five years in, not a single inspector. Last year I mowed half, this year 3/4. Still nobody. So from now on, I'm mowing it all every year. Jusy like everybody else in this program. It's the only way to control that crap.

And yes, I've spilled my blood. If I had a dollar for every cuss-word I've uttered, I'd be able to buy that flame-thrower I've always wanted.

Like the carpenter's Dirt. Send them on down here to build me another shack to put my Farmall H in.

Hev, it's yer fan club, Orangeville Division.
You say the word, we're there. With experience!

[The Dirt]

Getting there.

San, you crack me up!

[Del Mar]

Wayne,

As of late, I don't even like making toast.

Dirt,

A slab floor, power, insullation and button up the front and you got a train room. Craftsman work.

San

[Tramp]

Pete, that shed is a hobo altar.


Anyone drinking beer tonight? I'd like to set up a round if it would be accepted. If it isn't, I'll drink them all to the sorrow.

[The Dirt]

Tramp, a little respite from a frigid wind on a late November night.

I'll drink with you, friend. You have something you're trying to drown?

[Tramp]

Pete, damn how different this country is. It's only very early November here in Maine, but as I was cutting late season herbs in D's garden, I felt the beginnings of cold.

Yup, I have a sadness in my heart that requires moisture. Do you?

[The Dirt]

Tenacious frost early this morning, but I didn't catch the actual temp. It's OK though, once the sun is up an hour. But dawn comes late, with the sun now needing to clear the ridge behind us.

Naw, I'm just drinking to celebrate this pole-shed getting done. I've been at it awhile.
So I'm ripe for letting you bend my ear, old friend. Pretty soon, seven years.

[Daisy]

I'm sad too! And I've known you for years. Well kind of.

[The Dirt]

I suspect a common cause.
Had I anything in my power...

[Daisy]

Hey, maybe you CAN help! I get to go back home for a whole week at Thanksgiving, which I thought was still two loooooooooong weeks away, but seeing as you say it's late November already in Pennsylvania, maybe you could tell me how to do that little trick! Please!!! I can't survive away from home anymore. Tramp must've slipped something into my kibble that altered my biochemistry so that every mile I go away from him I feel sicker and sicker, kind of like that stuff they give heroin addicts so if they do heroin they get sick instead of high. I'm jonesing bad! Jonesing I tell you! Skip me ahead - FF!!! Am I smelling roasting turkeys and mulled cider???? Am I??!?!! I believe I am! Smell that? I think I am!

ps. i can't imagine any wife would ever kick you out to a shed.
pps. J*n that fire was so beautiful and your wife, and those adorable little guys were just the best
ppps. Damn San! what a fright. let me buy you a REALLY tall drink after surviving all that heat like a 40 foot high Long Island Iced-Tea!
ppppps. I DON"T HAVE A TRACTOR!!! Is that my problem??!?! IS IT?!?!?!

[The Dirt]

LOL, you don't miss a trick!

I knew it right after I posted it.
"...late on a November night..." is what I meant.

Absence makes the heart grow fonder.
Double the number of Tramp's extinguishers before you get there.
Spontaneous combustion, a definite danger!