The fine soft white wood comes away clean, rolls into scented coils sweet with resin as the wide drawknife is pulled fine and strong up the timber's length. This is a man of another time in this time; a freckled cloth cap, a waistcoat, open and with fastenings that shine, leaning into his work, and as his fine thin arms flex with effort, he sees saplings bow and twirl and hears the wind flick at the pale green leaves, and then he leans in again, arms at full stretch, and his fingers are drawn to the wood's slickness and his cap dips over a bearded face. Serge trousers, stout leather boots, the workings and things of the land, and he sets off a rhythm in himself and in nature's gift, so that each stroke is a caress and the sigh he hears is his own and he does not mind that he is alone and laughing
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Second Mark’s comments, John. Beautifully painted, the sound and smell of the wood. My dad worked as a carpenter for many years; he would have loved it! Reminded me of how pleasurable it is to hold a fine tool planning wood, loved the curls of the shavings.
powerful, those opening 3 lines. can smell that fresh timber, and feel the slice of the knife. The honest working man lovingly portrayed. Hardy used to do this kind of thing in his novels.The rhythm’s good, John, and the visuals.