Tuesday, June 24, 2008
Cloud cover cooled the desert to seventy-nein degrees. The heavens threatened rain. "There is time for a quick session" Optimized the lone skater. But the Mulberry tree had other plans. The shade that once proclaimed an open invitation "Build the ramp here!" now shook its angry branches in the wind. Purple Death rained from the sky. The skate warrior fought valiantly, wielding push broom and water hose. The flat bottom battle field was now a wasteland of sticky-slick berry blood. All his His efforts were foiled. Could he call for reinforcements? No. Reinforcements would not come [they were on a skate trip to Crested Butte].
"I GIVE UP!"
He lamented, shaking his fist toward the twisted leafy overhang. For a moment all was silent... and then it came.... the ominis sound of natures power filling the the back yard with fear...
"I am the Mulberry tree! My roots grow deep in this soil." "I was here long before that sorry pile of dimensional lumber and screws." "If you stand in my way, I will paint you Purple!"
The minute I got the ramp clean, a gust of wind put me back at square one.
ya, so I didn't get to skate today. I tried... I REALLY tried.