May 16, 2025
More in The Personal Space of U668857 The Pine Stool
The double take of seeing it again: an old pine stool - school-day woodwork out-lasting the classroom -
its curve and concave symmetry; the hard varnish on planed plank; that knot in veiny grains and a subtle warp in one leg
which snapped in mid-split when Parkhill over-tightened the clamp. But he was seasoned like the wood,
accustomed to wrong cuts, the disjoint of butts and dovetails, so he persevered with glue,
hair-lining the fracture which I sandpapered over when the time was right.
I can hear his barking admonition across the room if a plane was left blade-down on the bench -
but here's his legacy of coping-saw, and Mortis-and-Tenon joint secured with decorative peg.
A smoothing of angled time, a mend in some broken continuum going back through other rooms,
back through other buildings, back to Parkhill's storeroom, to lengths of unformed lumber;
back to the broad-toothed saw-wheel and the wholesale hoardings of timber-yard; back to a tree-trunk’s uprooted source;
back before the chain-saw's bite; back to the forest's high sway and the bark-scratch of squirrel and woodpecker; receding through yearly growth rings to tender stems of sapling and seedling; and further back to a fir cone's fall.
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