Peeling logs

Albeit hard work, peeling logs is gratifying work.  It's kind of like opening a present.  With each pull of the draw knife the scaly bark of the white spruce reveals another grain of wood.  The lines of grains oscillate into the fiber of each log.  Every log is as unique as the next; as unique as each rock lining the shore of Lake Superior.

For the past few days I've been peeling a log a day with the goal of peeling two dozen or so in order to first build a post and beam woodshed and then a sauna.  So while I'm busy zoning off - working my biceps with every pull and memorized by the unraveling grain - I'm really just thinking of how to best cut a tenon and mortise in each log and how they'll fit together.  I'm planning which one will be a post, top plate or rafter.  Thinking: "This funky grain won't cut this way so it can't go there," etc...

Peeling logs has been an unexpected joy to me.  It's one of those tasks that played out somewhere in the back of my mind during one of the countless walks out on the property; during one of those hours crashing through the balsam bush while daydreaming of the work ahead.  What I didn't foresee, however, was how intriguing of a way it is to pass time.  It's a time to forget about the crazy human world we live in and discover the wonders that each fibrous grain is willing to reveal: you just have to be willing to do a little work...