Labor, even the most humble and the most obscure,
if it is well done,
tends to beautify and embellish the world.
As promised, this was the final weekend I had agreed to go help My Hero haul wood to the house from the bush. The woodshed is pretty full now and there is a huge pile of logs lying in front of it waiting for the buzz saw. After the changing of tires on the Jeep on Saturday I was thinking we would not bother doing the wood. I was wrong. Off we went bright and early the next day.
I have to admit I had to drag myself out of bed that morning. Made a breakfast of eggs and toast for My Hero and I, then he went to feed the cows. He also loaded up extra hay to make my week easier. I sat in a chair looking out the window thinking about my grandmother and her words “Plum tuckered out” oh yes I had no idea what it meant back then, but it stayed with me. That bright early morning I think I knew what she meant. I did feel “Plumb tuckered out” like an old lady, a tired old lady. Have I worn myself out? Was I now my grandmother or my own mother, someone who also used that same line time after time?
It is no secret, I do work hard, physically hard, and I guess it is also no secret I am no longer “A Spring chicken. “Have I reached the end of “All my gumption?” Oh yes, there are a lot of sayings that those “Plumb tuckered out” ones I love and loved, used to say and now that I think of it, they said them a lot. These strong, busy, and hard working women had many words to throw around skirting the issue at hand. They worked too hard and it finally caught up with them. I know this to be true, at least this is the way I felt that bright early morning.
Now, long story short, I did go down to help My Hero as promised in the bush logging out those trees. It is much easier if two people tackle this job and obviously safer when one of them will be dropping trees with, or without a spotter. I was pretty sure he figured out that I was not having a very good day. “Plumb tuckered out” I assume must show on your face, and he picked that up right away. It may have been the dragging of my feet or the silence, the painful silence. Oh yes if you only knew me, that is usually not me at all, quiet I mean. I will ramble on about any subject, always filling his head with stories spilling from mine. This poor guy of mine was missing that, I do believe.
My Hero convinced me he did not need my help and that I should go sit in the warm tractor. I knew what he was doing. He was taking care of me. I watched him drop trees, saw trees, load trees and smile with those twinkling eyes of his and through his own exhaustion. Smiling at the “Plumb tuckered out girl” watching from high atop the tractor seat in a cab full of turkey feathers she had collected all year.
The wood made it to the woodshed, the “Plumb tuckered out” girl made it back to her chair. Sharing Netflix with her Hero they rested up for the next big project. Her camera was filled with beautiful images of feathers, of trees and a Hero she could share with her friends. Not a bad day after all.
Pardon me, I need to rest.