Kindling
Country pleasures are many. There is a direct and quiet satisfaction to the ritual of collecting small branches on the ground and hand sawing them to size. I use an inappropriate tool, a finish saw I bought years ago in a hardware on St. Clair in Cleveland. My assistant told me when I moved to get rid of it, it was worthless now. But here it is serving me with each pass, giving me clean cuts and strengthening my weak painting shoulder. All so primal but so satisfying.
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