CARVINGS IN WOOD AND IN THE HEART
Robert led Julie around to the side of his house where a large studio/workshop
was attached. "In here," he said, opening the double doors.
He'd had no intentions of ever letting anyone see his shop and yet here he was
flinging the doors wide for her. Life was so strange. Then, for
him, it had often proven so.
Stepping back, he let her enter first. "Oh...my!" She was speechless. The most
amazing door she'd ever seen was propped against the far
wall and she walked immediately to it, her hand going toward it yet hesitating
barely out from its surface as though it would somehow be profane
to touch it.
"It's all right, Julie," he smiled. "Go ahead."
The door had a curved top and was set in a wide framing of ridges and leaves.
The top panel of the door itself had a scene carved on the
entire thing, horses in a meadow, evergreens behind, and more of the leaves that
matched those on the framing. She allowed a single fingertip
to trace the outline of the closest horse. "It's just beautiful, Robert. Just
beautiful."
Then her eye was drawn to a nearby door with a single golden eagle on it,
perched on a branch, looking intently at something in the distance.
She turned, discovering bowls, birdhouses, archways, chairs and small tables.
"All this, Robert? You have done all this?" She picked up a bowl,
polished to a gleaming finish, smooth and masterfully done to showcase the grain
of the wood.
"Maple," he said softly, "a central slab of maple."
"I hadn't...expected. Is...is this your...profession?"
"No," he smiled. "I do it because I love it, I love wood, the feel of it in my
hands. It is why," he looked briefly out the open doors, "I now live
in a forest. I am, shall we say, at home here."
"Where you always a woodworker?" she asked, unable to resist sliding her hand
across the smooth surface of the bowl.
"No," he replied. "I was not always a woodworker." He took her free hand and she
set the bowl down, moving past a mantel with oak leaves
carved down its front, and back outside. He led her to his back yard where an
array of furniture sat on the grass.
"These, too? I've always loved this sort of lawn furniture."
"Then you must pick one and I shall carry it for you to your house."
She walked slowly among the chairs, deciding on one not just because she was
enthralled with its graceful lines, but because it sat two.
"Would...would that one be all right? You really wouldn't mind?"
"I do not make them for financial reasons, Julie," he replied, "but simply for
the love of the making. Yes, I would like very much for you to
have this one. If we go in for a moment, we could have tea and after I shower, I
will carry it to your house."
Had he just invited her...inside? He was getting lax here, way, way too lax.
"I'd love that. I'm sorry about the muffins, though."
As they walked back around the house, numbers of birds were already happily
eating the muffins. "We shall make do," he said. "There are
bound to be things other than...muffins."
