This log had to much metal imbedded to turn into lumber. It had more spikes than any other single log I’ve ever milled. It had shotgun pellets. And what I believe were lag bolts. Everything was buried deep in the tree, telling me it had been a long time since any of it was used to hold whatever it was holding. The lag bolt took the teeth off my blade.
At first, slightly annoyed, I pushed it up in a brush pile. Walking by it every day however, it would reach out. “Don, you need to get creative” it would say. “please don’t leave me here”
One of these warm spring morning i was having a cup of coffee, standing in the early morning sun, sucking up some of its warmth, looking out over the water in the marsh and woods behind my house and thought a few Adirondack chairs may be in order. But the next time i walked by the log i heard “Adirondack chairs? Are they not a little wimpy? Maybe you need a heavy bench.”
So off to the tractor. Yes it’s heavy. And maybe not what would be considered a thing of beauty, But it’s a great place for that early cup of coffee. Now to get some grass growing around it.
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