Wood carvers among the veggies

At Saturday's Farmer's Market, their stands sat cheek by jowl, two wood carvers. One dealt in crosses, the other in kitchens. Or at least kitchen implements.

Apparently there is a market in crosses, supported by collectors; I've seen several walls displaying a number of crosses from different sects and periods of history. Especially handsome: the tall staff topped by the small cross.

Chatted with the other carver who allows that he's always worked in wood. His kitchen tools are all made from local wood -- Arizona walnut, oak, juniper. Pretty enough that one would hate to get one of those scrapers above dirty.

He also makes classic wooden spoons, solid cutting boards, even handsome pizza peels. And he's set for the season when it coms to tomatoes; he was arranging a trade with another exhibitor when I showed up, tomatoes for $35 cutting board. That's sure a good supply -- I'm reminded of my boss back in Chicago who grew her own tomatoes. Her bloody mary's were the best I've ever tasted.

Crosscuts

If you live on the wooded side of town, as I do, stumps and logs are among your regular sights. Nor can I resist photographing them in their many variations. Consider the cut ends: two entirely different patterns. One, the natural wood grain; the other, the actual saw marks.

The age of the cut surface is yet another design element. I discovered on opening this folder of images that three of the photographs appeared to black and white. Not. Simply the long-term exposure to the elements which turns the warm browns of the wood into shades of silver. Ive no idea how many years this process requires....

...but it's at least more than 15 years, which is when the log below was cut, if I remember correctly. Maybe more.

Knots on wood

A fine long, knotty log sat to the north of the house when we moved in, a good 20+ years ago. Over the years, the log has given way to weathering. But the knots are made of sterner stuff and they abide. Don't they look like local topo maps, though?

This is one of several huge, venerable, gnarled trees over on McCormick Street near Goodwin. I find myself wondering what the wood will look like once these old guys give up or are cut down. Knottier than my garden remains, I'll bet.

In the meantime, there's a modern use for that hole in the trunk -- as a casual drop box for the day's junk mail.