Words&Dirt

I used to have a great view of the garden from more than 100′ up, but now I am only 18″ tall, 3.5′ wide, and 14.5′ long.  Metal ligaments now penetrate my soft redwood––impositions of the two bipedal creatures who chose my new form.  One of them lives here; I see him poking around all the time.  He doesn’t seem to know what he is doing, but he keeps at it.  The other isn’t a resident, but I’ve watched him come around over the years.  His beard is longer than I remember, but these humans are always changing it up.  Maybe that’s why they found it so easy to cut me into boards and refashion me into this empty box.

Me

It took them two days to make me.  First, they assembled my parts in a pile.  They had to cut some of me into smaller pieces to make my two ends.  I wanted to tell them their electric saw wasn’t long enough to go through me all at once––each piece of me is 3″ thick and their saw wouldn’t cut that deep.  But they figured it out soon enough, slicing me into sawdust with the sun-shaped blade, little fractions I’ll never see again.  They couldn’t make the two sides of each cut perfectly flat, an issue which resulted in much grumbling and foul language.  They stopped working to discuss possible solutions, which gave me time to ponder the problem with straight lines, which is that they’re a fiction.  Still, they figured out a system that was “good enough” and kept hacking away until all my bits were ready.

Cutting

Ready for assembly (end of day one)

They wanted to put wire under me.  Something about gophers.  Those little guys used to aerate and fertilize the soil around my roots, but now they won’t be allowed.   The humans wanted to nail the wire to the bottom of my frame and then flip me over, but realized I would be too heavy once any of my parts were connected.  More cursing and consternation.  After a time, they decided to build me in place, which meant trimming my width so they could bend the 4′ wire up around my outer walls and nail it.  So after another few fountains of sawdust, they carried me over to the wire and started drilling.  The dirt I’m sitting on isn’t exactly level, so they had to prop up parts of me to make sure my boards were connected properly.

Propped

They had to drill a hole for each screw so as not to split me.  They soon discovered that their little drill wasn’t really up to the task, so they took a beer break to let the machine recover.  I enjoyed the sunshine and tried to square myself to my new place in the web of life: a rectangle of remnant flesh held together by the leavings of an ill-suited tool.  Beers consumed, the humans came back to finish the job.  After putting my bottom frame together, they put 3″x3″ posts in each of my corners for added stability.  This was a good idea because the men who originally cut me didn’t do a perfect job, so my new joints aren’t all exactly flush.

Posting up

Finally, they cut the wire from its roll and folded it up against my sides so they could fix it to me with nails shaped like sagging branches heavy with snow.  As a finishing touch, they screwed some slim pieces of wood to my outer walls to keep my boards aligned.  These new boards aren’t redwood, and they probably came from some disreputable woodpile, but I’m doing my best to cope with them.  Like me, they are also an onsite resource, so I can’t exactly complain.

Finishing touches

I’m done now.  All in all, things could have been worse.  I could have been hauled off this land and taken far away.  I could have been forgotten and never put to use again.  Or they could have left me alone and let me grow until my time was up, but I try not to think about that.  I don’t know what will come of me, but hopefully something comes along to fill this emptiness.  Right now I’m feeling pretty hollow.

Finished

PS––Big thanks to my dear friend Jesse Alm for helping me with this project!  Love you, buddy.

Jalm in the flesh