You know you're a literary geek when you have a disagreement with a chainsaw (chainsaw won) and the first thing that comes to your mind is not what to do when a chainsaw rips across your fingers, but a poem by Robert Frost, specifically the first lines from "out out"...
It's true. In my quest to create a very specific, free form table of solid oak, i requested that my husband help me cut up the very large tree limbs which had fallen from an ancient oak tree. He readily agreed and during one fateful moment when I thought i could help by helping to balance the tree limb, "The buzz saw snarled and rattled in the yard" and then "As if it meant to prove saws know...leaped out..or seemed to leap...However it was, Neither refused the meeting."
"And the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled".....
Thank goodness my husband knows what to do in such an emergency.... During the run to the garage for triage i caught a knowing glance which said "this is definitely an emergency room visit," but all i could think of was those damned lines from "out, out" and "the saw snarled and rattled, snarled and rattled." Some might say that the trauma affect of the accident caused me to go to a happy place, but i confess, poetry isn't really my thing. Or at least i didn't think it was.
Unlike the fateful ending in the poem, i'm mending quite well. I'm even typing now with only 6 fingers (the others are all there just incapacitated at the moment.) I'm sure all will be fine but for some odd reason now i want to read "mending wall." sigh.
Tina
Recent Comments