Coop's Corner: I Can Not Lie

Friday, December 25, 2020

I Can Not Lie

I chopped the cherry tree down.

In fact, I cut them both down.

Not sure what old George did with his cuttings but I had a plan for what I'd be doing with mine. These remains were not the only thing I was left with.

There was a sort of plan, a hoped for result and it was to be something that I would take along on my cooking/camping projects, something I'd been thinking about for some time.

You are not to be faulted...I wasn't sure what to call it either. I've given it the moniker of Spatulacallit.

It needs to be strongly stated here that this and what follows was not 'design'. That's my day job, my vocation and it is filled with Rules, datums, sizes and tolerances....there will be precious little of that here. This is about wood, an avocation, so the term 'design' shall not be mentioned or enter into it in the least though there was an allowance in a few cases for those of us with the left-hand persuasion. I pick up a very rough piece, the grain begins to speak. I simply listen and then follow instructions, the pleasure of watching and assisting the transition a true delight.... I'd start and couldn't stop until it was as good as done.

My Spatulacallit was so much fun, so enjoyable that I continued on.....

As you can see, some of these kitchen utensils are for food that has yet to be invented. I can't tell you how rewarding it was making these pieces and done from only a few of the many slabs that I split out with an axe. I'm hoping that there will be more later this winter after I get the current batch of dust all dealt with. Very little was wasted (bloody obvious right?) and I found little need for using only chunks that were straight and true. Yes, there is a tooling mark here or there, perfection is what you'll see on the shelves at the 'Mart.

Already there's concern about locating other, additional truth telling individuals in order to keep a supply of fresh grain drying on the shelf so if you know of anyone meeting this demanding criteria....

In my time I've made a lot, a truly real lot of parts out of metal (vocationally) and when left on a workbench, the desire to pick them up and fondle is apparently a human trait because I've watched it happen over and over again. Hopefully the recipients of these gifts will feel the same way. An absolute unequivocal guarantee...no splinters shall occur! The connection with these cherry surfaces certainly brought me pleasure.

It was a very low impact gift giving Christmas around here. Peg's been knitting since July 4th might have even been June 4th. There were sweaters for our dear daughters, beautiful and much Too Fine for me to wear. I gave family members utensils and a few of my watercolor paintings, the food shelf a few bags, our Johnny On The Spot car care guys some yummies and for any and everyone else close, hopefully a modicum of Holiday Cheer.

I honestly wish that for all of you as well.

6 comments:

RichardMDecember 25, 2020 at 8:56 PM
Pretty nice carving! Merry Christmas!
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Steve WilliamsDecember 26, 2020 at 12:57 PM
I envy your energy and ingenuity when it comes to doing things. I remain a slug in most cases. A big spruce tree feel down in a storm not long ago and I did manage to cut it up and clean up the garden. But no plans to carve anything. Fire or haul away is the future of that wood.

Hope you had a fine Christmas and best wishes for a better New Year!
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PiccoloponyDecember 27, 2020 at 10:25 AM
I recognize my new utensils in those pictures. One of the scraper shaped ones was excellent for getting food into storage last night :)
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Others say....

"it was auspicious to approach any situation from a deferential, inquisitive place. Conceding that there is much to learn is the best blueprint for discovering something new." ----B. Fuller

The Man straightened stiffly above the block of salt fixed to the stake and looked at the young cattle ringed about him. The pasture was holding out well and the stock was looking good. This bunch would be ready to sell in another month, maybe sooner if the market was right.

A stir among the cattle down near the river brought him round to face the swinging bridge he'd built years before. Someone was coming toward him from the bridge. Someone in breeches, but it didn't look like a man, somehow. What was a woman doing in his pasture this time of night?

He bent over the salt again; maybe if he paid her no heed she'd go on past and let him mind his own business. He heard her footsteps come nearer and stop. "Good evening," she said.

Her voice was smooth with book learning but friendlier than most, and somehow almost shy. When he made no answer she went on, "I've been sitting on your swinging bridge....I thought I'd like to say thank-you...." Her voice stumbled a little, then she tried once more.

"You are Mr. ____". His name sounded strange in her voice, but she went on to tell her own.

"That's what they've called me the last sixty-eight years," he said, looking past her face to the hills fast darkening under a single star. "I reckon the woods are free for those that like to walk there."

The unfamiliar voice laughed a little. "That's what Emerson said: the grove belongs to the man who walks in it with an open heart....On that basis I guess I've owned part of your woods for a good many years.....". She made a final effort. "I've always wanted to thank you....."

Something deeply hidden stirred in him. "There's a stump up there, in the notch of the woods", he said slowly, "that before the timber grew so tall you could stand on it and see all over this country."

He kept still a minute, remembering, then, "I used to stand up there an' look at things, an' wonder how they come to be like they was, an' how the hills was created, an' all the things in Nature.... I told my wife I guessed all the religion I ever had I got standin' on that old stump, a-wonderin'..." He turned his face away from her.

She helped him out. "I know about that, a little. This afternoon I saw......." Her account of a thing she had really taken time to look at eased him, and he answered with telling of the badger den at the foot of the swinging bridge.

When she had gone, he turned to watch her. After a moment she stood clear and unmoving against the sky. You could hear the sounds of the river where she stood. She was one that could stand still long enough, he thought, really to hear what a body was saying, or a river.

Then she walked down the farther side of the slope and was gone. ------Margaret Snyder from A Chosen Valley

Fall was the end of harvest, end of the growing season, a burst of color and sun-warmth before killing frost turned the land gray and cold. Fall was a moody time, full of both life and death, a time when we were reminded of the power outside of us, reminded that the seasons happen to us. We do not invite the change to come.-------Ben Logan, from The Land Remembers

When you get those rare moments of clarity, those flashes when the universe makes sense, you try desperately to hold onto them. They are the lifeboats for the darker times, when the vastness of it all, the incomprehensible nature of life is completely elusive. So the question becomes or should have been all along, what would you do if you knew you only had one day, or one week, or one month to live. What lifeboat would you grab onto? What secret would you tell? What band would you see? What person would you declare your love to? What wish would you fulfill? What exotic locale would you fly to for coffee? What book would you write? ------- Ben Tyler

We were also cautioned about journeying far from home. As an example of the dangers, the town had a badly crippled lady named Lucy, who as a girl had traveled to New York City. As she traveled along a sidewalk, sightseeing, she was struck by the outstretched hand of a suicide who had leapt from high above. Her spine had been shattered and for the rest of her life, she was to walk bent forward at the waist, tapping the sidewalk with two black canes. Whenever the subject of travel to a big city was raised, someone would say, "Just remember what happened to Miss Tripp." ---- Ted Kooser, from Local Wonders

"Steamboats are like wedding cakes without the complications...." ----Mark Twain

"It's not about having lots of money, it's about having lots of options......." -----Chris Rock

As the very proud father of three former ponytail wearers, hopefully I can get away with this....."For the past few years it's been fashionable for young women to wear ball caps and to snap the strap on the back under their ponytails. I like the looks of that, their shiny ponytails jauntily swinging, but it's hard not to think of the rear ends of horses. There's a piece of harness called the crupper that goes just under a horse's tail to keep its nose down. If the horse lifts its head to look for a way out of whatever predicament it's in, the crupper tightens and hurts the horse. But it's foolish for parents to think that a ball cap might keep a young woman from running away. Anybody can see they're made for running." ------Ted Kooser, Local Wonders

"I tell the guy's girlfriend that the only difference between the book's main character Phaedrus and myself is that I am neither brilliant, tortured or insane, she looks at my bike and there is an uncomfortable silence." --------ahendepe (a.k.a. Vermin)