disclaimer or something

A mummy-hand holding, (former) biker gang affiliating, hippie influenced semi crunchy granola mom's ramblings and reminisings on an off-kilter life

Tuesday, October 23, 2012

The Sweet Sounds of a Chainsaw

I am serious when I say the whirr of a chainsaw is soothing. I have thought as much since I was three, when my mom silk screened STIHL (a chainsaw manufacturer) on a tee shirt for me, and dyed it pink. Cause just like my newly spray-painted trucks, pink marked it as "girl". My dad didn't have any boys, just a tomboy girl, his little shadow and little mini self. At that young age, he was not just my dad but my best friend and idol, so I wore my STIHL shirt with pride, a little girl, her dad, and his chainsaw.

My dad suffers from sociophobia, so holding a regular job has never been practical. He loves to be outdoors, one with nature, so when I was an infant, he became a freelance forest entrepreneur. Yep. He cut down dying trees and sold firewood along the highway. He made a small seasonal income, babysat me, and taught me all about the dozens of tree species in the forest.

From what I piece together from vague memories, photos, and stories is that my mom worked full time and he was a stay-at-home dad at the time. He'd rope me into the front seat of our jeep truck (don't fret folks, this pre-dated seatbelt and child seat laws) and we'd drive along dusty forestry trails for what seemed like hours. We would find our "spot" and I'd be gently set onto an old blanket atop the pine needle strewn earth with our dog by my side, as my dad went off, within seeing distance, and chopped down trees, shorn off stumps, dragged already downed dead limbs towards the truck. I would sit quietly and pet the dog while watching my dad, the birds, the clouds in the sky. I was always and still am a quiet, introspective, nature loving girl and I am sure these experiences helped shape me. The whirr of the chainsaw, the scent of pine sap, and the gentle rays of mountain sun filled me with a quiet joy.

Being a man of nature and a Native American culture nut, my dad felt it was wrong to take down trees, even dead ones, for they housed little creatures and created loamy soil for the wildflowers. To show his respect, and to give back what he took, he might place a raven's feather at the tree site, or scatter a handful of wildflower seed on the fresh earth.

A sprinkling of feverfew in bloom by the creek, a cedar with his and my initials carved into the trunk, a rock we climbed for a view of the ponderosa pines below...every corner of the forest reminds me of my childhood and of my dad, the nature man.

16 comments:

  1. this... is so beautiful.
    what a fascinating childhood you must've had.

    ReplyDelete
  2. What sweet sentiments for your dad! Lovely memories...

    ReplyDelete
  3. What a sweet post and lovely memories of your father.

    ReplyDelete
  4. I grew up in the Pacific Northwest and can totally picture this scene. What beautiful memories for you. We should all be so lucky to have such involved, caring fathers.

    ReplyDelete
  5. What a beautifully woven memory. Thank you for sharing it.

    ReplyDelete
  6. I loved this blog Gretchen! Great blog about your Dad and your mountain childhood.

    ReplyDelete
  7. Lovely. To think that the sound of a chainsaw can bring peaceful, contemplative memories. Very cool. I have a strong aversion to the sound as my father dragged us into the surrounding woods of our house to work, hauling logs for firewood. The work was grueling, and he was not terribly nice about it. I am a nature girl and would rather be in a forest than on a beach... but the sound of a chainsaw fills me with dread. This was so nice to read to hear another version. Nice story.

    ReplyDelete
  8. What a wonderful relationship the two of you have, and this post is such a beautiful tribute!

    ReplyDelete
  9. Sounds like your dad was really special to you!

    ReplyDelete
  10. This is so beautiful. I love the picture you painted of your dad giving back and showing respect to nature.

    ReplyDelete
  11. I love the visceral imagery this post calls up. Our childhoods were so different (mine urban and suburban) yet I too had a strong positive connection to my father, and often went to work with him.

    ReplyDelete
  12. A very cool childhood! I wish I had some of that type of knowledge (ie types of trees).

    ReplyDelete
  13. How lucky for you that you got to spend days with your dad. I wonder how many other dads out there wish they could buck tradition and be the one who gets to stay home with the kids?

    ReplyDelete
  14. What a wonderful story of a fantastic relationship making beautiful memories. And to think it was brought on by a chainsaw?

    ReplyDelete
  15. What a sweet memory, I love the way a painful sound becomes something soothing, and the reason behind it.

    ReplyDelete
  16. What a clear picture this post evoked - so peaceful I wanted to be sitting there with you. Beautiful.

    ReplyDelete