Conservation. Cleanup. Control.
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The scent of chainsaw's exhaust—a combination of two-stroke oil and gasoline—mingles with wood and fresh atmosphere: braided aura. A sensory cacophony. Files sharpen. Standing deadwood scrapes blue skies. Trees felled to earth. Unrelenting steel cuts through bark and tissue. Sap seeps. Bar bleeds. Sawdust escapes.
Lumberjacking. Forest management. Tree care.
Summer's chores for winter's warmth: woodstove's want. Horizontal trunks that once stood tall become vertical rounds to split. Stumps still rooted beneath. Study the grain. Maul's metal molar plummets into waiting flesh; a dull thunk as evergreen's fragrant aroma escapes and fills nostrils. A stillness fills the forest. Tooth pulled and plummets deeper. Satisfying fiber cracks. Well-place wedge welded deep into deceased timber. Edge digs. One becomes two. Two divided. Split wood hauled. Split wood stacked. Split wood ready. Cords measured. Cords counted. Cords waiting. Another round placed upon pedestal to begin the process once again.
Conservation. Cleanup. Control.
