I didn't want to be an IT guy anyway. I wanted to be... a lumberjack!

Leaping from tree to tree as they float down the mighty rivers of British Columbia! The Fir! The Larch! The Redwood! The mighty Scots Pine! The plucky little Aspen! The great limping rude tree of Nigeria!

The smell of fresh-cut timber! The crash of mighty trees!

Oh, I'm a lumberjack, and I'm okay!
I sleep all night and I work all day. 

Sure indeed, but I wouldn't picture myself with the transvetite part of the Monty Python sketch.

Just by getting my chainsaw out and jumping in to my lumberjack outfit makes me feel extra good somehow. Strange isn't it? Yesterday I had the pleasure to take down our 2 fruit trees in the backyard. Or I should say, I got permission to do it. Old crappy trees, that didn't produce any edible fruit anyway. Quick job for a guy luck me, who is ready to take on the mighty forests of British Colombia. I used to be all over the neighborhood here, cutting down trees in peoples gardens, with their approval, by often on my suggestion. Nowadays, lots of small house owners have their own chainsaws, electric ones bought at Jula, Hornbach or similar do-it-yourself shops. Those are for pussies. It should of course be classic petrol chainsaws, so the right lumberjack atmosphere can be felt. When I lived up in Skövde, I had lots of opportunities to develop my passion, both on my piece of land in Lerdala, but also in the aligning forest (belonging to the Skövde community) to our Skultorp property, where I often took down the biggest birch trees that I could find, claiming that the community didn't do appropriate forest maintenance. I never asked, because bureaucrats are just full of principles. Couldn't use all the firewood myself anyway, so I gave lots of it away to neighbors and when we moved in 1999, my dentist & tennis partner, PO Ek, got all that was left.

My father had the same passion for forest work, so perhaps I have inherited this from him. Probably mainly from spending lots of time out there with him during my youth, waiting in boredom for him to finish his duties.

It's a bit of a scare, when you realize that you turn more and more in to the character of your father as the years pass by.

I have promised myself to be very selective with what kind of things that I copy from his lifestyle to my own. I have noticed that Victor is doing the same with his view on me. Victor turned 25 yesterday by the way. Big Boy!

I'm convinced that he will be "a man" one day too = doing Vasaloppet and getting a kick out of chopping down big trees ;-)

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