Old but not Forgotten

There is an old growth Douglas Fir stump at the base of hill. Every time I go by, it reminds me that our past is not really that so far away. This stump is a remnant of logging with horses and steam donkeys. With manual whip saws, and tough weather-beaten loggers. With cork boots that weighed five pounds each, and a much higher chance of getting killed working than making it home for dinner at night.

The stump is still as big around as a VW bug even though it was logged almost 100 years ago. The straight edge made when cutting the tree down leaves the stump standing 6 feet tall. The loggers had to cut it that high because the base was so big around that the two-man saws were too short to cut across the swelling at the butt.

A lot of decay has happened over the last century, but the notches where the platform boards stuck into the base are still visible on one side of the grand old behemoth. The stump stands strong against all weather, the many creatures that inhabit the cracks and crevices along its sides, and the burrows beneath its roots. It has become a haven for wildlife, moss, lichen, brush and grasses. The slow decay is enriching the ground around it.

The sturdy stump has stood the test of time after its brutal harvest and continues on.

It makes me question my actions today. This stump gives me hope that maybe something I have done may last beyond my years here.