The Cross Cut Saw

My Dad and I are using a cross-cut saw. There are bugs diving into our faces. Its challenging for the bugs to land as we move back and forth. The sound of the cross cut saw rises above all else. Creating a singular focus.

Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Woooossshhhhh. Woooossssshhhh.

My Dad and I are making the blade sing. Over the years most of the trees we have cut in this fashion have been already on the ground, exclusively in wilderness areas. The use of power tools is prohibited, except with special permits.

Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Push. Woooossshhhhh. Woooossssshhhh.

The logs vary in size. Some small, some so large we couldn’t see the other side. One person stands at an angle on top of these large logs. Eventually we pound in wedges to keep the cut open on the way down with the saw so the blade doesn’t pinch.

Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Push. Woooossshhhhh. Woooossssshhhh.

I’m attracted to the simplicity of work and life in the wilderness. Away for weeks at a time, from the internet and my cell phone. Our only contact is occasional calls with a satellite phone. I have such wonderful memories of working in the wilderness with my parents and our friends. These memories can be summed up by that meditative, singular focus of the cross-cut saw. No sound of an engine. Just a steady melodic humming.

Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Push. Pull. Woooossshhhhh. Woooossssshhhh.

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