Tall timber stood here once, here on a corn belt farm along the Monon.
Here the roots of a half-mile of trees dug their runners deep in the loam for a grip and a hold against wind storms.
Then the axemen came and the chips flew to the zing of steel and handle—the lank railsplitters cut the big ones first, the beeches and the oaks, then the brush.
Dynamite, wagons, and horses took the stumps—the plows sunk their teeth in—now it is first class corn land—improved property—and the hogs grunt over the fodder crops.
It would come hard now for this half mile of improved farm land along the Monon corn belt, on a piece of Grand Prairie, to remember once it had a great singing family of trees.
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I know about cutting small trees and hauling them. I don't know about cutting big trees. I am pretty good with an ax. I hit the mark or just as near to it every time.
I don't have work clothes these days and I was cutting up some branches with an ax a month or so ago and one of my neighbors was shaking her head as if I didn't know what I was doing because I was wearing docker slacks and a dress shirt. Of course her laughing ended when she saw I knew what I was doing.
As the saying goes, "Shouldn't judge a person by their looks." and that holds true in my case. Just because I 'look' like a 'prep' that doesn't mean I am one.
I like this piece. It gave me images from a few years back and in my youth and also from the movie Sergeant York. If you've seen the movie you should know what I am referring to. If you haven't seen the movie - I recommend it.
A great piece by Sandburg here.
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