This morning Peter told me, "Ok so the plan for today is, we get a good breakfast, and go in the wood for the day. We are going to be lumberjacks. But you are one already, aren't you, all Canadians are." I looked at him quizzically. "Of course, he said, haven't you seen the Monty Python scene, where a Canadian sings 'I am lumberjack'?" And then Peter started dancing and singing 'I am lumberjack and I am ok, I sleep all night and I work all day". It was quite a laugh.
So we got the good breakfast and then Peter got ready gathering his tools and stuff and Julie prepared food to bring, and then four of us left in the car and Peter on his tractor.
The wood is actually about 15 km away from here. They wished they could have found a farm with a wood attached, but that was nowhere to be found. And that wood is the only one they could find. Peter says that it is quite a nice wood, which has been nicely coppiced for a few hundred years.
On the way, Julie stopped in a tool shop to get a chainsaw back from sharpening (the chainsaw must be resharpened after two days of work, and Peter still has to learn how to do it as well as the tool shop does). I got in with her out of curiosity.
What a place. A man with a big twisted mustache which I had only seen in movies before. The whole place tidily covered with old tools and things and full of history. In the back, another man. Standing straight, wearing a blue jumper, incredibly handsome (and, a nice butt, says Julie), with sharp blue eyes and charcoal black hair. He was sweet to help Julie with her French. She told him that they have a bio farm, but "only a small one". "Of course, he said, it's much harder to do large scale with bio". (That thought struck me. I am not sure why. Of course, it's obvious. But it just seemed so obvious for him, in a way which struck me.)
We then passed by a few very cute villages. In front of a gendarmerie (police station), Julie pointed out how sweet and funny it is, that all the gendarmeries around here have lace curtains at their windows. I tried to imagine who put the lace curtains up, and who actually decided to put them up. Julie said that perhaps they had a cook, who also took care of the curtains.
So then we got to the wood. It has many different kinds of hard wood trees. Chestnut, willow, a few big oak ones, and others which name I can't remember, because the English names tell me nothing. We filled up the trailer with some fire wood that had already been cut (taken from medium sized trees which you cut at the base, generating shoots which you can cut for fire a dozen(?) years later).
Then we took apart a big one which Peter had cut to make beams for the house to renovate. I discovered the usage of the billhook, which I just love. The shape and lightness gives you so much freedom, it is an exhilarating feeling. But the clean cut of the axe is something to enjoy as well. As of the chainsaw. Well. If I didn't fear cutting up all my toes and my neighbor's arm all at once, perhaps I would enjoy the efficiency gained with the stink and noise. But perhaps after a few days of taking trees down with a handsaw, I would change my mind.
There are some things in life where technology (and modern energy sources) is really worth. I think that taking trees down is one of them (but oh please, blowing leaves isn't!). There is still plenty of man power needed to clean, split, carry and stack the logs. I admire Peter and Julie for being so balanced in the way they seek to build a way of life that's meaningful to them. They wish this life to be in main part ecological, not for the idea of it, but simply because they enjoy it. That really requires thinking and doing things with your heart, I think, rather than with your head. I think that this is probably the main thing I will learn from them; how to enjoy life, as much as possible in agreement with my values.
(Alright, as I write Peter gives me a full wine glass of gin macerated with black prunes, it's totally wonderful and I fear that on my empty stomach I will not reach the end of this blog before the end of the glass).
Then we had lunch (gazpacho soup), warmed up on Julie's fire. Then we brought big pieces back down to the trailer, using a rope and wood-stick device, so that you can drag the big piece behind you (I find this device so clever). Then Peter trailed the 50 cm thick pieces with the tractor. He was bouncing recklessly like a child between the logs and the tractor. Looking at him I thought, god, this man his really having a blast. Really like a child. How great.
And then we got back home. Peter really loaded the trailer. I feared the tires wouldn't keep up with it and I thought what a pain it would be, to get a flat tire on the road, and then needing to unload the trailer to change the tire, and then to load it up again. Nevertheless he went through thick sticky mud like butter, to Claire and my amazement.
But, guess what. Did my anxiety bring down a bad spell on him? Peter came back without the trailer. It got a flat tire on the way.
So, as of the numbers: in one day (i.e. not much more than four not so intense hours of work, interspersed with tea, and lunch time), the five of us, with two chainsaws and billhooks and axes and saws, made almost one 2mx1.6x1.6 pile of firewood. Peter said you need five of those to heat the house for one year. Wow, that's really not so bad!! In a few days of work, you can keep yourself warm for a full year. But, ok, that's also here a quite clement weather. Today again, beginning of February, I worked wearing mostly only a thin sweater. And often I thought of how Canada is fully covered with snow now. It really makes life very different.
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On the way back, in the car with Julie, we stopped at a shop in a village to get rice and wine. In the shop, there were two men and a woman. One of these men had a tennis-ball sized ball in his neck, and that was quite horrible. Anyway, the woman, Julie later told us, is called here 'Evelyne de la Poste', because she lives in the house above what used to be a post office (before they closed down the post office and replaced it with a mailbox). And, Evelyn de la Poste is known for usually having one of many different men sleeping at her place. Whether she does it for money is unknown (but personally I think that if that is so, then she must have some really unusual abilities). Anyhow, Peter and Julie bought their car from her. And when they bought it, they thought they would try to see how many men turn their head, when they see the car pass by.
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This morning before taking off I was introduced to goat milking. How sweet they are these goats. They always want to chew off pieces of your clothes. They always want to see what the hell you are doing. To jump on any piece of thing they can. They are just so sweet. With their strange horizontal pupils. Their high heels on which they stand so gracefully. And these ones have beige irises. I need to take pictures of these eyes. If I can get them to stop moving (which, for milking you get by giving them food, so they stay quiet while they eat). (Ok, the plum-gin glass is finished, the room is spinning a bit).
I like the way they milk their goats. They don't kill the babies, but rather they share the mother's milk with them. When I was once on a dairy farm, I thought that killing the babies to get all the milk for yourself felt way too much like a Matrix-like exploitation thing. But here they keep the babies. And eventually eat them. Don't ask me why, but somehow that way feels less like exploitation.
As of goat milking... I still have to learn. Although the lady this morning must have been happy with how much food she got today with me.
