I used to love writing exams. The studying was terrible. The writing process was fraught. People were tense and generally miserable during the lead up. What was great about an exam?

One sentence: “Everyone stop writing.” One sentence? There were a couple more. “Put down your pens. Hand in your papers.” I loved exams because someone else told me when I was finished. The exam was like a storm and I couldn’t control the weather.

There was a storm in September. She was called ‘Fiona’. Nasty, loud, big and full of hot air, her name, which means ‘fair’ looks more like a joke every day. Though life is essentially back to normal, the forests are still pretty messy.

My back yard must be a forest. It’s still a mess. I’ve had a blast processing the maple and willow that were blown down. I didn’t have plans for this. Shit happens. I can’t control the weather so, processing trees became part of my life.

I began with a sprint. There was so much to do. Too much. I spent days hacking, cutting, sorting and chopping. They were followed by late night outside with spotlights and music and me with my hatchet processing the mess. Me, the human wood chipper.

It’s fun processing wood. Big pieces get made into smaller pieces. First lengths, then rounds, then I split the wood with my axe. Small pieces, branches and such? They get cleaned up. The larger branch bits are ready to burn. The smaller bits, I’ve been hacking with a hatchet, turning twigs into mulch.

We have a lot of mulch.

After the first two weeks, things slowed down. My shoulders and elbows got sore from the chopping. My knee blew up while riding horses. There were sunny days for bike riding. Life happened and the mess in the yard became less and less of a priority. I can’t control the weather so I ripped things up on my bike every chance I had.

That was until yesterday. Yesterday, my open runway for procrastinating ran out. Snow was threatening. My pledge to my wife and myself was that I would rid the yard of the scourge of trees before the snow began to fly. I can’t control the weather, so I set an alarm to get up early.

I was up at five. My first task was to write to all of you. After that, I was out in the yard, chopping away at my twigs, happy as a clam. Happy? Not entirely.

Jed built a new bike. He and Bent were planning a ride. As I received the texts I started to twitch. My desire to go ride with them was great. My fear of sorting through the remains of a wooded mess was even more powerful. I can’t control the weather, so I chose to miss out.

I missed out this time because every other time, I didn’t. Every other time, I went for the ride, took the walk or otherwise chose not to spend the day finishing the project. I couldn’t control the weather. Instead, I took advantage of it. For almost two months, I had the option of when the yard would be clean. Based on my standards for myself, the looming snow brought with it a deadline.

I wanted to ride. I wanted the yard clean. I wanted to change the weather. I shouted at the sky. Nothing happened.

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I can’t control the weather, so I processed the trees. Now that I’ve finished, I no longer have a big, messy reminder in the yard that the weather is beyond my control. I no longer have a reminder that some deadlines - the arrival of winter, when taxes are due, my own death - these external endings are beyond my will.

How do you deal with things beyond you control determine when something is over?

How much do you rely on circumstances / frameworks that you cant control in order to complete a project?