I’ve been reading the blog of my friend Ray. He writes about the great art of bartering and sharing. I’m usually a silent participant of the bartering economy, but I’ve come to the realization that my lawn has grown into rain forest proportions. I walk carefully into the yard swearing I can hear the occasional monkey and cockatoo. I even find myself stepping lightly hoping large man eating snakes have taken leave from my forest. The truth is my grass is long enough that I have seen a family of bears, a sow and two cubs, playing and sleeping in the grass comfortable enough that they lounge around. I’ve got to mow the lawn.
The art of bartering for me has taken a rather neat swing. I may have gained a way to mow my forest while riding. Just for the trade of an old pickup in my drive. I find that a good trade. Many years ago a white man traded Manhattan Island for a hand full of beads. The natives in New York thought the poor white fellow might have lost his sense of reality, the island was worthless; it was a good trade.
I am now looking at the prospect of a lawn tractor as a good trade for my little truck. I’m wondering which one of us is holding the beads?