I ache, therefore, I am. Most days, I start out a little sore from yesterday's activities around the farm. Today, I'm really bound up tight. I can move, as long as I get plenty of notice and go real slow. Lifting my arms is particularly tough. Bending over is inconceivable this morning and steps are painful because my legs are stiff. All in all, I'm about as sore as I've been lately.
I didn't start out to test rigor mortis on myself, in fact, it started on a pleasant ride over to the caucuses in Sedgewick last Saturday. Kris begged off to go shopping with Nancy and left me without a vehicle. Walter had mentioned he was going to the caucuses and I thought it might be fun to ride over together. This brings up the whole issue of women's suffrage since shopping is a higher priority than what direction the country is heading in-- but I digress.
Anyway, I called Walter and asked if I could catch a ride over to the caucuses. "Sure, I'll be along about 8:30." It was around seven when I called and 8:30 would be cutting it close. We had chores to do and I had to try to find clothes, take a state of Maine, and shave. But, when Walter arrived, I was ready and hurried out to the truck. The dooryard is all ice and I didn't want Walter to makes us late by breaking a leg or something.
I got in the truck and Walter asked what Kris was up to.
"Shopping Walter. Evidently, you and I will have to save the Republic without her."
Walter smiled and off we went.
We talked about a lot of different things and by and by the subject of my wood pile came up. (Younger men talk about women, but as you become more seasoned wood piles become a more interesting and way safer topic.) "I have some birch I'm gonna need to split so I don't lose it. I think I'll listen for Gary's wood splitter and run it over when he's out splittin' his wood. There isn't half a cord so it isn't worth rentin' a splitter."
"Just split it with a maul. You don't need a splitter for a little dribble of wood like that. I'd just split it with a maul."
"I have no idea where any of the ten or so splittin' mauls I've bought over the years have ended up." In truth, every time I set one down, I hope to never pick it back up again and don't pay as much attention to just where I put them as I should. The subject changed to something less interesting than wood piles and pretty soon we were at the school where the caucuses were being held. Like most busy retiree's we had arrived less than an hour and a half early so despite the fact it would be cutting it even closer, we decided to go get a coffee.
Well, the caucuses came and went and I thought about what Walter had said about splitting the wood with a maul. Walter has an awful habit of being right. He is a decade older than I am and if he would split "that little dribble" by hand, then I reasoned, I could too and I resolved to take his advice. So that afternoon, when Kris, who probably came as close to saving the republic by going shopping as I did by going to the caucuses, arrived home, I informed her of my decision to get a splitting maul. She laughed.
"What are you laughing at? I can split wood." She laughed again, harder.
"Well, I harrumphed I am going into town to get a maul. You goin'?" "Sure, I don't want to miss this." Boy, she's irritating sometimes.
Next morning, Kris and I were out early with my new maul. I had purchased the $31 dollar one, as opposed to the $29 one, because it looked like it might actually split wood. It was lighter too and I reasoned lighter might be better for senior wood splitters.
I sat the first piece of birch up on the chopping block. It was a clear piece that looked straight grained and not too large. It should have split easily and I am sure it would have if I had actually hit it when I swung. Instead, I nicked it on the way down and it shot off ten or twelve feet to the side. Kris smiled broadly and giggled her way over to pick it up. A swing and a miss-- well maybe it was a foul log. Either way it hurt both body and delicate male ego. After picking up the stick of wood Kris got a grip on her mirth as she realized I still held the maul and she was going to be coming into range to set the stick back up on the chopping block. After moving away she smiled and said "try hitting it in the middle and see if that works better." I gave her my best withering look and asked if she shouldn't be doing something else. "Well," she giggled, "I was going to stack wood for you but I guess I could go do the dishes while you get ONE split."
Ha, ha, ha.
I took very careful aim this time. I needed to make contact or rest of my life would be very difficult. I could hear her in my mind, "Hey remember the time you bought that splitting maul and couldn't hit the log. Ha, Ha, Ha.
I lined up my swing and came down with less force and more accuracy and hit the log dead center, and to my surprise, the wood actually split under my assault. Well, it wasn't so much an assault as a mild wave in the air and then and equally mild swing at the wood. Still, it was doing the job.
The peanut gallery quieted down and I repeated this several more times with out a miss. Kris was amazed. I tried to act like it was no big deal and I might have got away with it, if I had quit reminding her the rest of day that I had split wood with a maul.
I split several wheel barrow loads in a half an hour and then stopped before I over did it. It was going to work! I could still split wood! Ha, ha, ha, Ha,... I could still split wood.
That was yesterday. Today, I think I'll give the splittin' maul a break. In a few days, when I can bend over and lift my arms above my head again, I'll split some more. There's no big hurry. I have until this summer to get it all split. Maybe I'll split for fifteen minutes instead of a full half hour-- try to build myself up. I'll think of it as my morning exercise. Say, maybe Kris could use morning exercise!
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