Ingrained in the Wood

Ingrained in the Wood

Haldir had gone on and was now climbing to the high flet. As Frodo prepared to follow him, he laid his hand upon the tree beside the ladder: never before had he been so suddenly and so keenly aware of the feel and texture of a tree's skin and of the life within it. He felt a delight in wood and the touch of it, neither as forester nor as carpenter; it was the delight of the living tree itself.  ~J.R.R. Tolkien, The Lord of the Rings

Dad-sharpenind-Chainsaw-Kyle-watches-Aunt-Heather-Piper
Dad sharpening his chainsaw blade, while Kyle watches. I guess he doesn't realize he can push back his hat to see instead of stretching his neck?

Sometimes I have stories to tell, and sometimes I just want to write a dissertation on observations from the Piper family.  This one is just plain funny.  Who knows, maybe there are others like dad or have a different infinity for something.  I guess some people notice old cars, or landscaping or birds, dad notices trees and piles of wood.

I guess that's where I'm going to start, with wood.  Yes!  The only renewable resource placed on our planet that covers approximately 9.4% of the Earth's surface, 30% of the total land area, or so I'm told by Wikipedia.  The sometimes tall, always intriguing and beautiful structures projecting upward towards the heavens from the ground.  Yes, woods, trees, forest, all of the above.  Dad has this affinity for the resource, rather an obsession.

Now let me step back and mention he started working at nine years of age making posts.  Can you image any child now-a-days working that young?  I mean working hard.  Well, he did.  Maybe that's what started his appreciation for wood and his gravitation toward it.  It probably helped.  My guess, it was his career of being a woodsman, a logger that did the trick.  My pap, my Uncle Sonny and my dad owned a sawmill for years.  Dad was in charge of scouting out new timber, cutting down the logs and hauling them to the sawmill to be cut into boards.  So naturally his eyes were always on timber and of course he can name the local species of tress.  Or at least he used to, he's slipping in his old age.

Dad's-Orange-Truck-Aunt-Heather-Piper
Dad's truck he used to haul logs with from the sawmill.

When I think of my dad, the smell of cut wood comes to mind.  No joke!  When I was little and dad would come home from a long day of manual labor, he would bring some of his work home with him.  It came in the form of sawdust in his pant legs.  Dad's not very tall, so he always had to cuff the legs on his jeans.  Then, when he was cutting down trees, the sawdust would make their way into the protection of his pant cuffs.  Before dad would walk into the house, he would sit on the top step of the porch and unroll his jeans to release all the tiny bits of wood he was dragging around with him.  I love that smell!  To this day, when I catch the whiff of fresh cut wood, dad comes to my mind and a sense of my childhood.  A truly comforting feeling!  I can't help but try and consume the fragrance of fresh cut wood, it's such a sweet scent and I want it all for myself.

Uncle-Sonny-at-Piper-Sawmill-Aunt-Heather-Piper
Uncle Sonny at our saw mill

But then again, wood, might just come from our genes, not jeans, unless we're talking about dad's pant cuffs.  Then yes, wood chips and sawdust did come from there.  But let's talk about the Piper DNA.  I do believe while being conceived there is a wood gene that enters each one of us, some more than others.  Maybe I should step back even further.  The Piper's have a long legacy of ...

Read on about more wood stories Ingrained in the Wood

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