I was recently chatting with a friend about superstitions. I have never been a superstitious person; not really worried if a black cat crosses my path, I don’t feel the need to throw salt over my shoulder, nor do I open umbrella’s inside simply because it’s too complicated and just does not make sense.
For the first time in a month, the mainstream media, Wall Street and the markets per se are not consumed with fears of Trump tariffs and Chinese retaliation.
Whether it’s forests or backyard trees, keeping them healthy is a priority for any landowner. For someone who grows trees for harvest, perception of tree health might be influenced by whether or not trees are growing at an acceptable rate per acre to produce a marketable product such as sawlogs.
It’s often safer to be in chains than to be free – Franz Kafka
In the early stages of retirement, I’m beginning to think that freedom is an over-rated concept.
When Sammy was just ten years old, his Dad gave him a chore, to gather up the chicken eggs. This job was grim, for sure.
You see there was a rooster who was guard of every hen. He strutted round the chicken fence. For sure, this was his pen.
After the Trump tariffs, aimed at China were put in place in early March, China retaliated this week. The result has been historically volatile price swings with the US commodity markets, US stocks and cryptocurrencies such as bitcoin.
In April of 1970 as a junior at Billings West, I joined 20 million Americans in celebrating the first Earth Day by sitting on a Grand Avenue curb protesting an 80 foot tall sign that had just been erected by Big Oil—the first of its kind in Billings and a clear example of visual pollution.
The health of our land and water becomes an important topic to remember every year at the end of April. It’s a refreshing time of new life: plants are beginning to grow again, the rainbow trout begin to spawn, and our local farms and ranches are a flurry of activity.
Questioning the need for an April designation
These guns I have are mine alone. Won’t ever give ‘em up. Without my guns I’d prob’ly feel like one defenseless pup.
Today this weekly poem of mine is slightly personal. I’ve owned a gun since twelve years old. For sure no arsenal.