Wednesday, February 17, 2016

Behemoth, Part 2

Every day there are a few less logs on the parking strip and a heap more sawdust. I imagine someone comes during the workday hours and chainsaws a hunk away. There's no "free wood" sign, but it's diminishing nonetheless.

The best part, though, is the scent: part apple, part vanilla, part fresh-cut wood. It's not like anything else I've ever smelled, really. Honestly, it's more itself than any other scent or amalgam of scents, and I note the distance at which I become aware of it, breathing mindfully. And then I stop when I arrive at ground-zero-log, give the rough trunk a few pats, inhale some more, then head out for home.

I know that in a matter of days these pine-bones will disappear, most likely to be carbonized in someone's fireplace, sent skyward with a puff and a spark. The sawdust will linger for a while before being taken-in by the earth, rain-washed down to brown soggy mulch.

I'll walk here on out in the absence of shade, the air gone stale as old tires.


  1. When I saw the picture of the felled tree before, my first thought was that it was some sort of Pine; and therefore not burnable. Pine contains all that resin which can clog-up wood burners, so is never used over here.

  2. Curious point there, Cro. I had no idea. Wonder where the wood is going, then, and to what use.

  3. Love the smell you describe. I would gather up some of the dust and put it in a sealed jar. I'd take that jar out on occasion and treat my senses.

    1. Tara, what an absolutely splendid idea! (Can you tell I've been watching Downton Abbey?!)