Sun, May 19, 2024

© 12-19-97 by Ruth H. Randle

Great piles of logs
and a smiling dog . . . 
and a mountain of
sawdust fine,
made of cherry and hemlock,
maple and oak,
hickory, tulip and pine . . .

And round and round
with a buzzing sound
the circular
saw blade turns.
In the planer shop,
with a crackle and pop,
the wood-fired furnace burns.

They’ll saw wood for your
wide plank flooring,
for mantels and shelves
and signs,
for musical instruments,
tables and chairs,
woodsheds, garages and barns.

The boards are
carefully stickered
and stacked,
and placed in piles outside,
aligned so the wind
can blow right through,
and the lumber will be air dried.

The lumber
for your special project,
neatly stacked
on the pram outside,
is just waiting
out back
to be pushed up the track
and rolled into the kiln to be dried.

The slabwood stock,
still covered with bark,
is bundled
and tied and sold
to folks who will cut it in
firewood lengths to burn,
when the weather turns cold.

The wood for the
“Welcome to Bloomfield” signs
was shaped
in this very mill:
when you pass by,
one will catch your eye
as you come over the hill!

Five generations
have worked this mill.
It passes from fathers
to sons,
and it’s plain to see
they all take pride
in the way the mill is run.

The sight and the smell
and the feel of the wood
is a love that
they all share,
and the craftsman’s skills
and the knowledge they gain,
they’ll pass on to their children with care.

Yes, progress is life…
but tradition is too!
There must be a proper way;
if we don’t pass it on,
it will one day be gone,
and our children . . .
and theirs . . .
will pay!

You’ve never seen a Sheltie dog smile?
Come in and meet Mike!!!