The Chain Saw

Yesterday, I stepped outside and heard the most wonderful sound: 

A chain saw. 

Now, I understand this sounds awful coming from someone who lives in Western Nebraska, where trees are scarce to begin with.  We need as many as we can get.  However, it's not a sound I hear very often out here, and almost never in town.  And it's music to my ears.

A smile instinctively crawled on to my face and I had to hear more of it.

I couldn't tell where it was coming from, so I walked around to the side yard, just as I saw the top bough of an enormous pine tree give way and disappear from view and I heard people yelling above the sound of the motor a street away.

And I stopped to watch for a long while.  Elia joined me, craning her neck to figure out what I was looking at.  Clearly puzzled, she wandered off.

A chain saw has a very distinct sound.  It sounds like Michigan in the fall.  I can't describe it any other way.  The buzz - whine of a chain saw, followed by Dad's voice yelling, "Look out!"

And a chill immediately sets upon the air and the wind starts to blow, almost out of necessity.  

And a chain saw has a unique smell.   It smells a little bit like cold sweat wrapped in plaid flannel.  And a bit of oil.

And they have a look all their own.  Some are small for taking the branches off the boughs, and some are large to take down the whole tree.   But all of them have big burly hands attached to the black handle.

And don't forget the safety lessons that come with the use of the chain saw:  My dad had a pair of jeans that were turned into shorts some years ago.  I'm sure they are still folded in his drawer somewhere. As far back as I can remember, those jeans have a jagged edge cut on top of the thigh, about 6" in length where he set the chain saw on his leg before the chain stopped moving.  If I had to guess, at the time of the incident, they were probably brand new jeans and that's why he ended up wearing them every year after that.  And maybe as a reminder to Chad & I not to repeat the same mistake.

But the thing I remember most about the chain saw is all the memories it served me with.  I learned those woods like the back of my hands and can close my eyes and see myself sitting on a downed log, far away from reality.  I learned how to chain up a trunk and pull it home behind the truck and drag it behind the shed, cut it up, roll the stumps over to the chopping pile, then stack it in cords to dry for use the next winter. 

1987

 I thought I was strong as an ox and always wanted to carry "one more piece" into the house.  

So, you see, it is more than just the sound of a chain saw.  It's a life time of family.