Author: Marty Mitchell

I’ve used bicycles for a great many things. I used one for delivering newspapers. I used one to test my theory of flight. I currently ride an e-bike eleven miles each way to the gym. There are also a few things that I haven’t used the bicycle for . . . because blasted Cheryl put her foot down.

The truck and utility trailer were swung into position at the dump. I could see behind me in my rear-view side mirrors, the environmental block barrier, and the open-top garbage shipping containers. The attendant was pointing at a space between two other pickups.

“I am married to a chimpanzee.”

I could never decide if Cheryl was proud of her choice or disgusted.

Apparently, because of my impatience with reading fine print, I have caused occasional dissension in our marriage.

“Do you remember what we promised in our wedding vows?” she asked in frustration.

“Can I see a copy? I wasn’t really listening to what I said.”

I am from the United States of America. I have a house, a car, a digital television with high speed 5g Wi-Fi, and basically anything I want or need.

Love is a burnin’ thing
And it makes a fiery ring
Bound by wild desire
I fell into a ring of fire

I fell into a burnin’ ring of fire
I went down, down, down
And the flames went higher
And it burns, burns, burns
The ring of fire, the ring of fire.  (June Carter Cash, Merle Kilgore)

It was not long after we moved onto our property in 1987 that I started to plant fruit trees. Living on an old homestead in a house built in 1897, the square acre was fenced in half with one half for the house and the other for the cows. Since we did not want cows or horses, we chose to plant fruits. This was because fruit trees do not need a veterinarian and they very rarely break out of the fencing and wander down the road.