Fragments From Floyd

It involved the forceful relocation of hundreds; perhaps thousands. They once had their place in the world, their order. And one day, the mandate came from a Higher Power that they should all be force-marched to another place--a place unsuitable for them, hard to reach and unsightly. The shock of it was all the more awful for the suddenness: in one week, they would all have to be moved, disappeared, to make way for a relentless force that some called progress, others called Ann's Folly.

This weekend, the backhoe will come and create a large muddy hole behind the house. Then cement trucks will soon follow. To reach the site of this created chaos, three cords of wood--painstakingly cut, split and neatly stacked--will have to be moved, piece by piece by piece, marginalized to some inconvenient, unattractive and disorganized pile so this home improvement can be completed before the snows come. The woodcutter is not happy.

But the Higher Power purrs like a kitten on catnip.

To be sure, there will be future installments in the Trail of Blisters saga. Stay tuned.