Bill once teased me I'd make a good Kami. I'd asked Ddean and others what was it about knives that fascinated them so much? Was it the steel? Yes, the answer burst out from all corners; the lovely steel. Looking, holding, thinking about, reflecting upon the lovely steel. Fruit of the Earth- the best material it had to give, second only to food. And the substance is entwined through our lives, harvesting more food, producing the implements our opposable thumbs are famous for, and what set us beyond hunting and gathering.
Pretty nice thoughts about this wonderful essence, this stuff of our lives. I loaded the Pick-Up full of kids of all ages, and we drove 20 miles to see the forge. I love the sunset in Montana. The color of the land is clearer for me, the air cooler and the time right for forging. Tim had done his Ranchwork and this was his time too. Carter pounded on a leaf spring. This done, he left to explore the Ranch. The Kid was already gone, looking through a pile of rocks for fossils. Only those truly interested stayed in the barn. Trav, Keith, Taylor and myself. I wanted to make a blade right then and there. But Taylor will leave tomorow, this was her chance, so Tim and I handled the hot metal and she did the pounding. A real hands-on kid. You have to like her.
The dogs sat outside and chewed on an iron pipe with a dead rabbit in it. Licking the pipe as if they'd finally burst through the metal for the meat. It would never happen, but kept them occupied and out of our way. Taylor pounded. She rapped the hammer. Tim called out instructions as she pounded. I watched her put the off balance stroke on the spine that would stay there forever and remind her this knife was hers.
We didn't get it done, of course. Too much for one night. I could see the weedeater I'd bought for Tim, converted to the heat delivery system. A wonderful blue flame jetting into a brick and iron forge Tim made. His daughter had christened it the Blue Rocket. Montana Blue Rocket Forge. We sure had fun. I pounded on another leaf spring and began on my own knife. It was natural, I seemed to know what to do. Well, I've read enough here over the years and besides that, if the Budhists are right in a past life I could have been a Kami. Who knows? I want to pound the steel and make something, not just knives. The steel wants direction, but has a mind of its own too. It'll try and bend the way it wants, and you have to persuade it to go another.
What a lot of great fun. I can't wait to go back. I think the custom knife makers of this world are quite safe from me, but the fun is there to be shared. Tim got a real kick out of helping Taylor. He's a natural teacher, work built ranch foreman, soft spoken and sharp as a tack.
Yep, the Sun went down and the colors deepened before disapearing like they always do, and the Blue Rocket won the night.
munk
Pretty nice thoughts about this wonderful essence, this stuff of our lives. I loaded the Pick-Up full of kids of all ages, and we drove 20 miles to see the forge. I love the sunset in Montana. The color of the land is clearer for me, the air cooler and the time right for forging. Tim had done his Ranchwork and this was his time too. Carter pounded on a leaf spring. This done, he left to explore the Ranch. The Kid was already gone, looking through a pile of rocks for fossils. Only those truly interested stayed in the barn. Trav, Keith, Taylor and myself. I wanted to make a blade right then and there. But Taylor will leave tomorow, this was her chance, so Tim and I handled the hot metal and she did the pounding. A real hands-on kid. You have to like her.
The dogs sat outside and chewed on an iron pipe with a dead rabbit in it. Licking the pipe as if they'd finally burst through the metal for the meat. It would never happen, but kept them occupied and out of our way. Taylor pounded. She rapped the hammer. Tim called out instructions as she pounded. I watched her put the off balance stroke on the spine that would stay there forever and remind her this knife was hers.
We didn't get it done, of course. Too much for one night. I could see the weedeater I'd bought for Tim, converted to the heat delivery system. A wonderful blue flame jetting into a brick and iron forge Tim made. His daughter had christened it the Blue Rocket. Montana Blue Rocket Forge. We sure had fun. I pounded on another leaf spring and began on my own knife. It was natural, I seemed to know what to do. Well, I've read enough here over the years and besides that, if the Budhists are right in a past life I could have been a Kami. Who knows? I want to pound the steel and make something, not just knives. The steel wants direction, but has a mind of its own too. It'll try and bend the way it wants, and you have to persuade it to go another.
What a lot of great fun. I can't wait to go back. I think the custom knife makers of this world are quite safe from me, but the fun is there to be shared. Tim got a real kick out of helping Taylor. He's a natural teacher, work built ranch foreman, soft spoken and sharp as a tack.
Yep, the Sun went down and the colors deepened before disapearing like they always do, and the Blue Rocket won the night.
munk
