The adirondack moutains is the picturest setting for so many storries. With the changging of the leaves, and the days getting darker work must be done to keep yourself warm. In the centuary we live in we can get heat by pressing a button, but one-hundred years ago when Lumberjack Joe lived in these parts that was not the case. It has been said that this lumberjack is still hanging around, and some say when the wind begins to hallow, and the trees of his labor shake knocking off the leaves an old man's voice can be heard in the distance.
Now Joe he lived alone, and worked in the woods from sunrise to sunset never paying minds to the change of weather. Others had warnned Joe of the rain storm that was comming, and he could clearly see the bolts of lightning, and hear the crashes and roars of thunder, as his body grew chilled. He sat beneath a tree leaned over with deep gasping breaths with no one else around to hear or see him. He closed his eyes and thought of a way to escape as the wind lashed against his skin.
Standing at the slightest break in the storm he rushed toward a cabin falling into a muddy mess of a pit, as he felt his leg give way, and knew there was nothing else he could do.
Jack's still out there I believe watching for someone to make the same mistake as him. Look where his fingers dug into his murky grave, and see his tools of the day appear by his barriel ground. Feel the coldness of his boney fingers as he attempts to free himself on these bitter fall days. Step away from Jack's pit before he pulls you in, and follow the rusty old sign out of the woods before it is too late, or Jack will be sure to invite you into his company, for he knows not how to get out of his hole he has dug for himself, and perhaphs netheir do you.
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