White Ash Blood Memories.

I was cleaning out the attic in the garage on a warm Saturday afternoon and came upon 10 8' boards of White Ash. I forgot I even had these hidden up there. I took them down and set the boards against the wall.

Then about a week ago I started to design a drone in the key of F. I went out to my wood selection and saw that Ash and decided to use a board for that wood flute project. White Ash has a distinct smell when it is worked with wood tools. I always loved that smell even when I was kid working on my father's sawmill.

Once I started to rip the Ash into flute blanks the scent started to float on air in the shop. As the shop filled with the scent memories came back from where this hunk of wood came from. It was some of the wood from the sawmill. I started to figure out how old it was.

Like wow it must be over 25 years ago I brought this home.

The more I worked on this drone project the images of past flowed through my mind. The life of a northern Wisconsin logger and sawmill person is tough going. The profit margins are little at best. A lot of 7 day work weeks. Working in blizzards or blazing heat. Freezing fingers on frosted metal or blown hydraulic hoses spraying hot oil on you in the heat of July.

Working in those conditions toughens you. It can harden the heart. Its like you become one with the element you are working in. You have to adapt or you wouldn't make it.
 
I think I could sum it up with this experience.  My father and I were sitting under a loaded truck of logs fixing a broken wheel.  It was late at night and it snowed all day.  Now the wind switched to the north and the temperature was dropping to around 0.  Swinging a 10 pound maul trying to get the part off and nothing was going right.  Between not feeling my fingertips anymore and my ass frozen to the pavement under us I said "a man has to be nuts to be doing this for a living"  My father without missing a beat came back with "it sure does help".  I turned and looked at him and busted out in laughter.

I since then softened and have mellowed out.

I now look at that experience in retrospect. And I leave it back there in those times. You have to drop old luggage if you want to grow and move on.

For the most part we all have blood memories. You don't have to be of special birth to have them. Reliving them is the tricky part.

Peace, Kevin