Well we've still got a high-tension stand-off situation with the angry pines. They're not moving any closer, but are standing their ground around the school. I'm keeping the alert level at Ponderosa for now.

Still not sure what set them off. But I'll tell you that @Pearline is an odd bird. A live Aspen Christmas tree? Might as well just use a bundle of sticks. Maybe it would be alright as a Hanukka bush, but a Christmas tree? Maybe she's a Presbyterian.

Anyway, I'll keep an eye on the Pine tree situation. And I'm still on the lookout for my mysterious double.

The tension in the woods around school is so thick you could cut it with an axe. Which is exactly what the pines are stressing about. They're sure somebody on campus cut down one of their younguns', and they're not leaving till they get their ounce of sap. Outta one of us. That's what @Wonderwall97 felt walking through the woods today. They were moving, alright, straight towards that heartbeat. I'm just glad @Wonderwall97 made it out before things got messy. Doesn't anybody pay attention to my DO NOT CROSS tape I've got up on the trails?

I'm wondering if @Emilia Plissken's tiny reindeer might be a help. Like some kind of tiny ambassadors to meet with the pines -- neutral, third-party like -- and see if we can't get this worked out. The pines have what they call a "sap debt" that needs to be repaid, which could become a regular vendetta if we don't get it cleared up. While I think we'd all rather not sacrifice a fellow student to them, maybe there's something else the pines would take in exchange? Could this be a mission for your tiny reindeer, @Emilia Plissken? To go and parley with the pines?

As for your kindly party invitation, @Pearline, thank you, but I've still got some issues with enclosed spaces. Growing up in Timberland, we always had the tree tops and the stars above. Even being down on the ground gets me a little claustrophobic, much less in those tiny dorm rooms of yours.

I'll be having my own Yule party up in my treehouse come the day. Everybody will be welcome!! I'll have my special life-size gingerbread men out and about, and you can sample my famous peppermint bark.

I think we've had a breakthrough in the pine tree standoff.

Turns out @Emilia Plissken's eight tiny reindeer are excellent deal makers. First I had them all up to my treehouse, to give them proper training in negotiation strategy and wild tree culture. Emilia was kind enough to bring the reindeer on their tiny leashes, but they were well behaved enough. They even showed off a few of their tricks leaping through small hoops and reciting poems they'd memorized. And of course we had cocoa.

So then we sent the reindeer off to confer with the conifers. Pines are particular from firs and spruce, and have their own specific cultural quirks. Pines can be a bit stubborn and dramatic, but the tiny reindeer soon had them eating out of their hands, so to speak. They flit around like hummingbirds, or Snow White's friends, stringing up the trees with tinsel and popcorn garlands, talking it out.

It turns out there is a loophole in pine tree law that allows us to avoid the vendetta and the sap debt they feel we owe them. It's a ancient and complex ritual, one of the earliest pacts between humans and trees. And it can only be held on the winter solstice, which is next Tuesday.

The trees are demanding a dance. It's time to talk to the Dean.

I've got a funny feeling about the pines.

They're still. Too still if you ask me. Even when the cold wind blows, they don't move a needle. Back in Timberland, every little Timber Tot learns the Pine Tree Song, how the little needles "shake shake shake" when the snow comes down. It's a way to introduce the little ones to sentient thigmonasty. But these pines aren't moving a muscle. Or blinking.

Still, I'll expect them all to start heading to the dance at Mesmer Hall eventually . I'll make sure their path is clear and they won't run into some crazy student brandishing an axe as a joke. We'll have a small formal reception for them right inside the door, and then it's on to the dance floor, where hopefully there won't be any funny business.

I'm hoping @Emilia Plissken will be there with her tiny reindeer. They would sure help break the ice. And I've sent word out on the grapevine for @Silverfawn's help--somebody who can really speak the tree's language. Er, actually, is that speciesist of me, just to assume @Silverfawn can speak to pine trees? I just figure we'll need all the help we can get making sure this goes off without a hitch.

Because there's something about these trees that's making me nervous.

Last night sure was a fiasco. And it would have been a massacre if we hadn't been able to beat the pines in the melee. It's rotten knowing it was my fault for putting the student body in danger like that. But I was taught not to traffic in regret.

The truth is, if it weren't for my mysterious Timberjack visitor, I wouldn't have been able to hold the pines back, and the school would have fallen. But in the midst of the battle, I saw the flash of Mackinaw plaid out of the corner of my eye, and a Timberjack attacking furiously using the notorious Black Oak technique. This meant the Timberjack was clearly from the Iron Sequoia School - the arch rival to my own school, Yellow Birch. One hundred years ago our branches split, on account of some squabble between Timberjack Masters. Ever since, we stay well clear of one another, and if we find ourselves in each other's way, well, things don't end well.

I responded by fending off the savage pines using the Dance of Peeling Bark--a signature Yellow Birch school move--but I'll bet you I didn't need to announce my lineage. This sneaky visitor knows a lot more about me than I do them, I reckon.

When it was over, boughs were snapped an noses were bloodied, but we had won the day and the pines retreated back into the forest. I just can't figure these pines out. Hopefully @Akane Kiyoko will have better luck with them than I had. They must be some kind of Asian pine or something.

My inscrutable itinerant Timberjack disappeared into the woods as well. But now that I've identified them, I'm sure it's only a matter of time till our paths cross again.

Aw, heck, @Akane Kiyoko, that's mighty flattering of you, but I think it'd be best for me to give those crazy pines a wide berth for the time being. They already got a taste of my blood at the dance and it didn't seem to do a thing but enrage the pokey buggers.

You might want to try @Juan Cena, he's got the equipment for it, and that @Emilia Plissken is a good sort. And @polo. @Midna's nice. If you need some muscle, @PenguinInAnArmour could be good backup. Oh! And what about that @Alexander? Seems like being Student of the Month oughta be good for something, huh?

Here's the entry from my old Timberjack manual:

================
Many, many winters ago, the first Timberjacks lived in the mighty World Tree, the largest tree in the largest forest of the land. And they called this tree Leonard.

Leonard was large, and grew larger by the century. Timberjack shanties hung like pine cones as high as the eye could see in its mighty boughs. Through time, pods of Timberjacks living near one another developed their own ways of sawing, climbing, and carving; and of yodeling and dancing as well. Each adapted their ways to their specific niche biomes of Leonard the World Tree.

As these groups of Timberjacks grew their own unique cultures, they began to grow different approaches to caring for Leonard, their host. Some advocated trimming, others vehemently opposed it. Some gathered the needles that fell to the forest floor, others put them back.

While the groups of Timberjacks squabbled among themselves, Leonard grew old. The Timberjacks grew more and more focused on their differences, and less and less on Leonard's state.

So when the mighty storm came, with its lightning wind, Leonard was struck down, sheared in half by the tempest.

Maybe Leonard was just old.

It was at that time that the Timberjacks were scattered to the four winds, and developed the original schools from which the ones we know are derived. These original schools include Western Juniper, Pond Cyprus, Limber Pine, the Larch... all the names you know from the Recitation of the Families we read at Yuletide.

While the modern schools have taken on different names, and examined the best forestry practices of the past, our squabbles remain. But we must recollect that Leonard really resides in all trees, that all trees are the World Tree, and in fact, the whole world really is just a tree, and if you climb up high enough you'll get to next week.

--- Blueberry Bob Henderson, from the introduction to The Timberjack Manual, 9th Edition, published by Timbertown Press, 1994

I spend a lot of time alone at the treehouse. And that's by design. Timberjacks are generally a solitary lot, though we are connected through our Schools. Yellow Birch School has its patch, and we look after each other, and are on good terms with our neighbors. But I left all that to come and be a part of this school, and my Timberjack brothers and sisters are far away.

So when I pulled out my saw the other night to play a few old Timberjack ballads, it almost brought me to tears when I heard another saw, plaintive, out in the distance over the woods, answering me back. Though we have different practices, all the Timberjack songs are derived from the same original melodies, so saw players from different schools can have a kind of dialogue through approaching the same melodies. It's like all of us each know a piece of the bigger song - the song we have forgotten. And when players from different schools play together, you get a glimpse of the bigger picture.

Out over the top of the forest I could see those hairy spindly arms of the World-Weavers, sewing up the woods with night.

I've been playing the saw in my treehouse regularly, but haven't heard that other saw since the first time. It's been good practice, though, and a comfort to my homesickness to play the old songs again.

But like the old saying goes: Saws are better when working together. So I'd like to put together a saw orchestra, and anyone's invited to join up. Doesn't matter if you have experience or not. I can teach you -- you just have to work at it! Maybe we could even work something out in time for this Valentine's Dance coming up. So let me know if you're interested.

Speaking of the old songs, I was in touch with my people back in Timberland, talking to friends and getting filled in on the goings on. So I thought to ask about the Iron Sequoia School, which is where I reckon my mysterious Timberjack visitor received his training. It's also the historical arch rivals of my own denomination, Yellow Birch.

"Oh, didn't you know? Iron Sequoia disbanded years ago! Remember how their High Branch just disappeared, and nobody knew where they went? Without the hieromonks, there was no teaching, so it just kinda dissolved."

Now that kinda rings a bell, but I just figured it got worked out.

Apparently not. And what's that say about my silent Timberjack drifter?

Playing at the Valentine's Heart Throb Dance was a delight. My new Saw Sisters here at school really did me proud in our saw band - they played all the old songs even more sweetly than I remembered them. Even "It Does Make a Sound," which was always my favorite.

I went ahead and played lead saw, just because I had the most experience, but with @Silvia H. and @*Atlantica* on alto saw, @Midna on tenor, @Pete the Girl on the big ol' bass saw, and @Silverfawn up in front directing us all with her little fronds, we looked as heavenly as we sounded.

Didn't stay around for the rest of the dance, though. Religious reasons.

This month I've gotten into roasting my own coffee. I get the beans straight off the airship that comes up from down south. Zephyr Air Transport Inc. They've got all kinds of interesting stuff to trade, and I seriously suggest checking them out next time their dirigible is moored on campus.