The chain saw stopped sawing. There was no apparent struggle against going into that dark night, it just stopped making a noise, let its chain turn powerlessly for a couple of rotations and entered eternal rest.The giving up of its mechanical ghost provided me with an ambivalent sensation of frustration and relief. Frustration at the fact that I could no longer complain about cutting wood in the cold, seasoned with relief that I didn’t have to continue role playing as a lumberjack, for which role I am ill suited. I went through the “man” ritual of dismantling it followed by a thorough mantling, but to no avail, its teeth had been pulled . The wandering spirit of this machine would not be rattling its chain. Its chain rattling days had reached their appointed number. I wrapped the corpse in an oily shroud and said my “goodbyes” after which my eyes settled on the garden around me and, sure enough, there was life in the midst of death. Grey as the day may have been, the garden is full of green. It is evergreen as this mourning wreath of beautiful fresh herbs confirms. Grief, as ever, is short-lived as I notice that my fingers have started typing a search for “chain…..
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