Tree cutting Stories

Stupid. Just stupid. The sun was setting; dusk hung like a cloak over the Coconino National Forest. I had a scotch pine tree on my right shoulder, my left hand held our seven-year-old daughter’s hand, and the lovely Mrs. L carried our three-year-old in her arms. We were walking downhill from the tree cutting area and had no clue how much farther we had to walk. All I could think was “I don’t want to be walking this road i...