Oops, make that “horse play.” But everything’s a lesson when homeschooling is in session (my new mantra). So off we went to Boots & Chris’ place — an amazing place, for sure. Imagine an off-the-grid homesteading Mecca complete with greenhouses filled with — well — greens, perennial gardens, amazing artwork, stunning views of the White Mountains, sugar woods and, of course, a fine Percheron workhorse by the name of Bart.

Chris (Esten, for those out of the loop) photo-documented most of the day and sent me the photos below. Unfortunately, she didn’t document the art session she had with our daughter, Bel.

The ultimate goal for the day was to work the rust off of Bart-the-horse. Boots uses Bart almost exclusively in the winter to plow the snow from his driveway, to collect sap for his maple syrup operation and to haul firewood.

I brought my forecart to hook Bart to so the rust busting could be one-part work and many more parts fun as we tooled around the “neighborhood.” Good times, indeed.

I also wanted to get a good “campaign shot” of Boots and the cart so we could issue a challenge to his new opponent in his campaign to be Vermont’s next lieutenant governor, Republican/race-car-driver, Phil Scott. Yo Phil, let’s race.

What can I say, it was a fine day. Until, that is, Obama went all “let’s bomb” on us last night.

Enjoy the photos — especially that last shot showing some amazing cooperation in the pursuit of the perfect new screen door.

I’m mad at you tonight, America. Because I had a wonderful day. And now you’re going to ask me to open my mouth and accept your “sucker” pill once again. But my jaw is clinched – like it always is when you approach me with your vile and conniving tablet of one part bullshit-patriotism and nine parts fear.

America, as Allen Ginsberg said, “go fuck yourself with your atom bomb.”

I don’t want to hear anymore of your war jive — not from your Republican snakes nor from your Democratic fakes. Your goals are delusions and your timelines are as gelatin as your spines.

America, you’re sick. And war is your cancer. You need to see someone. Soon.

Peace.

And music: