Part 18 (1/2)
He leaned against the archway. ”What part are you at?”
”Everyone is pretending to be something they aren't in order to win the fair Bianca.”
He cleared his throat. ”Yes. Well.”
”I've never seen so many books in all my life.”
Glancing at the breakfront holding his collection of literature, he shrugged. ”I like to read.” He pulled away from the doorframe. ”I need to file the saws.”
”File the saws?”
”The crosscuts have to be kept sharp, straight, and clean. That means setting, swaging, filing, and hammering the kinks out.”
She gave him a blank look, unable to decipher his logging vernacular.
”Would you like to come along?”
She told herself it was the idea of doing something different that appealed to her, not the thought of spending the afternoon with him. Closing the book, she set it on the table and reached for her boots. ”All right. Should I make us some sandwiches?”
”Either that or we need to eat before we go.”
Half an hour later, lunch bucket in hand, they headed down the path the men took every morning.
”That chestnut by the house looks as if a strong wind might knock it over,” Anna said, pointing to it.
Joe glanced back at it. ”It'll be all right. Besides, I like chestnuts and that's the only one in the area.”
”You're sure it's safe?”
”It's been fine for over ten years. No need to start worrying now.”
She wasn't so sure, but meanwhile she could make something with the chestnuts, now that she knew he favored them.
She turned her attention to the forest. At first it was similar to what they'd traveled through on their way in from Seattle. But the farther they walked, the larger the trees grew until she stopped, awestruck by the sheer size of the tall, tall evergreens. Some of the trunks were so huge, an entire horse and buggy could fit inside.
”What are these?”
”Douglas firs. The redwoods are even bigger.”
She cast him a doubtful look before s.h.i.+elding her eyes as she once again looked up. ”Surely you don't chop these down?”
”We do. Its wood is straight-grained, tough, and can withstand tremendous stress. It holds nails and screws even better than oak.”
”But how? How do you chop them down?”
”We work in pairs.” He continued down the path.
”But it would take months. Years.”
He chuckled. ”I'll admit, I could fell half a dozen white pines back in Maine in the time it takes us to conquer one of these fellows.”
Picking up her skirt, she followed. ”With an ax? You chop these down with an ax?”
”And crosscut saws.”
”But, they would have to be more than twenty feet long.”
”They are. They also need to be sharp. That's why I have to file them. Watch your step.”
She skirted around a large root protruding above the ground, then hurried to catch up with him. As they walked, Joe pointed to the different trees, explaining what each was particularly suited for.
The spruce made the best ladders. The hemlock was excellent for flooring and furniture. But it was the redwoods he favored most.
”They are unsurpa.s.sed in their resistance to weathering and rot. That house we're living in?”
She nodded.
”It has redwood s.h.i.+ngles and siding and foundation. Make no mistake, it'll still be standing a hundred years from now.” His face held a fierce pride, as if he were somehow responsible for the trees' exceptional qualities.
A few minutes later they stepped into a clearing filled with gigantic stumps, two stories high. Littering the ground were trees a hundred feet long and over twenty feet in diameter at their base. The scent of fresh-cut wood still lingered in the air.
Anna gasped, partly in awe at the sheer magnitude of the trees, partly in admiration of the men's ability to fell them, and partly in distress over the hill being stripped bare. How many centuries had it taken to produce those monstrous redwoods? And how many hundreds of years would come and go before any young growth could transform into majestic full-grown trees to replace the ones lying prostrate before her?
Joe slid down a steep slope on his feet, stopping near a redwood whose undercut had been started but had yet to be felled. He picked up a long saw with huge teeth and dragged it back up the hill.
His pants were the proper length today, she noticed, not the cropped-off ones. She watched as he nailed a notched board between two small trees. He then slipped the saw into the notch and began to file each tooth with a tiny picklike tool.
”Why do you wear pants of different lengths?”
He smiled. ”Because when one of these giants starts to fall, we all scatter. If our pant legs get caught on something, it could slow us down just enough to be crushed by the plunging timber.” He blew some metal filings off the saw. ”Since I'm not felling trees today, I don't need to wear my sagged pants.”
Anna walked about the clearing, careful to stay away from the steep slope. A patch of fragrant twinflowers crawled up the base of an ash tree. Gathering several blooms, she wrapped them in her handkerchief and slipped them in her pocket. Perhaps she could dry them later and make a sachet.
Spotting some coral mushrooms, she examined them, then returned to her lunch bucket and emptied its contents into Joe's. She ran across many varieties of mushrooms, wary of most of them. She opted to harvest only the coral ones, since she knew them to be edible, and their unique twiggy shape was so easy to identify.
She had just begun to head back when she heard Joe call her name.
”I'm here.” She returned to the clearing and set her bucket down.
”Berry picking?” he asked, wiping his neck with a handkerchief.
”No. Mushrooms.”
He glanced into her bucket. ”Are you ready to eat lunch, then?”
”I'm starved.”
”I don't have a blanket to sit on.”
”That's all right.”