We filled two small tarps with scrap cuts from the large pile and hauled them back to the house. Not surprising in an ice storm. “We’re not.”
“I’m hardly pretty. And I thought that stuff was out of fashion. They were chipped and painted black. Why would you say that?”
“Look at me. “Yeah.”
“You can make money doing this?”
“Yeah. “It’s hemp,” she said. “Make sure this doesn’t burn,” she said pointing to a large pot with pork cubes and all kinds of cut up vegetables sizzling away. Take your pick.'”
We sat in silence for a while. Then a color coded rigid PVC sheet is slid into the frame at a predetermined height. I’ve got to drive. “So this is it,” I said waving my hand through the air, “this is the shop.”
She looked around for a moment and then said, “What exactly do you do?”
“Commercial wood carving, signs, railings, balusters, odd bits, some furniture restoration, always in wood.”
She picked up one of the pieces I was currently working on.
