Tuesday, October 13, 2009
This image takes me back. Back on Stevens this time of year, the driveway was always loaded with small logs that needed to be cut one, two or maybe even three times. Because I was the oldest and biggest, it was me on the other end of the 8 foot cross-cut saw with Dad. No matter the weather, no matter if I had things to do for myself, once the the truck dumped the logs part of my afternoons and evenings were not mine anymore. One year, Dad even had the large tree next to the garage cut down. At the base, it was about 16 inches diameter. Not an easy task, but with cheap labor, the job got done. After the wood was cut, it needed to be split and stacked. Dad did the splitting, but I watched him intently. Never did I think that this would in anyway, serve me in life, but I was wrong. He taught me where to strike the ax and how to use the steel wedges to crack even the toughest of oak. When it was ready to stacked in the garage, it seemed like a mountain of wood. Now, when it came to stackin', I had an extra set of hands. The younger brother was commissioned by my father to help. As I remember, one year we actually made up a 'baseball game' to get the job completed faster. Two cords of winter wood is, this morning, resting and ready to find its way into the woodshed for another Maine winter. What goes around comes around; I guess you could say.