Fall Folly

The timber along the drive into III is showing changes in color and the canopy is lighter. The cool nights and brisk mornings testify that fall is here. Although the weather predictions had put us off a bit, most of last Saturday and Sunday were sunny, warm and just right for burning brush, mowing or splitting logs.

Sometimes I get an idea in my head and it just won’t quit. I’ll think and study on something and that idea just plain gets stuck!

Himself tried to derail me from this latest project. He suggested other ways and easier methods but I had thought to build a wooden sled and when I found a drawing and vague directions in my handy dandy paperback Handy Farm Devices and how to make them book, I made up my mind.

First! my book instructed, find a tree and cut it down, as it is easier to saw green. So, I ambled up the drive shopping for a tree, Himself reluctantly following with the chain saw. After discussing two or three trees (we needed one with a natural bend in it) we finally found a likely candidate close to the drive and room enough for Himself to drop it. It would have to come down eventually anyway. It was only 8 or 10” through but it didn’t need to be too big and soon it was down. One 8’ section cut out for me and the rest was soon made into firewood and the limbs cleaned up.

We didn’t have a saw for this job so against Himself’s better judgment and dire predictions, I got an axe, a hatchet and two metal wedges. Starting at the larger end, I worked and worked at making the first split. After probably an hour of pounding, cutting, self-doubt and thoughts of conceding, I got the first split in far enough that I knew, finally! I could do this. Wasn’t going to be easy -- but it was possible.

I know that Himself, checking in on my progress periodically, thought many a time to himself that he was going to be able to say, “I told you so”. I know many a time I told myself, he’s not going to be able to say that!

As it split, that log talked to me. When it first “spoke”, I stopped and turned my head to hear the droning insect or find the airplane overhead. I didn’t know a splitting log would talk! I can’t describe that sound. I made Himself come and listen and he heard it too and after hours of pounding steel against steel, stopping to do other chores and resting between, that little ol’ log split -- talking all the way and practically spitting when I made the final swing!

I was so weary from swinging the axe and had cuts on the palms of hands from the steel wedges, that I wasn’t sure I could finish the job. I was afraid I might have to wait until the next trip down. However, grit and determination – and dread of hearing “I told you so” – took over and after another hour or two of finishing, cutting the wood fibers where they hung on for dear life, I finally had two 6 or 7’ half logs. Runners for the sled. Then I dragged, drug, drogue to the porch and fell into my rocking chair . . .