“Unexpected intrusions of beauty. This is what life is.” ~ Saul Bellow
I’ve long held a fascination with wood shavings. Perhaps it stems from my Papaw Adams and his daily whittling. His little piles of cedar lay at his feet in delicate, perfect spirals every day the weather allowed. I see him clear as today sitting in his lawn chair in the cool shade of the hill, dressed in crisp blue or green trousers and farm cap; Case knife in one hand, a stick of cedar in the other; a jaw of tobacco that mutes his speech but never his laughter. He was a funny man, and talented. He is where the music came from; to fix things that break, or at least try; to be whatever I wanted to be, do what I wanted to do. The original rebel; giver of candy to his youngest grand-daughter to whom he gave a nickname known to only a handful of people. I reckon each sliver of wood from his whittle stick was a wish or prayer or meditation. No wonder I love them. As I loved him.