Joe just sawed off a large block of wood from the large supply of wood he had. He blew off the dust and set it down on the table to create his next, as he liked to call it, invention. He got out a rusty old saw that as worn out as it looked, was quite sharp. He drew out his design on the wood and set himself down to sawing. It was the morning and the frost settling on the ground glistened in the rising sun. He whistled as he went to work sawing and cutting some intricate design that was much more complicated than he thought it was going to be. When he finally sanded and carved through the last curve and line, he sighed in relief and set the worn old saw down.
Joe was a carpenter and his workshop was in his garage, an old creaky little place that smelled like wood and mud. he loved carving wood more than anything and always had the bad habit of carving whatever wood he could get his hands one meaning that he would constantly get splinters in his hands. But that didn’t matter anymore because the callouses on his hands were thick enough. There was no pain.
Joe was what you could generally say as a jolly old guy. He had a thick white beard, gray short hair and sparkling blue eyes that squinted whenever he smiled. He was a big man and had quite the pot belly. And not surprisingly, he used to be the man that dressed up as Santa Claus for Christmas parades.
Joe looked up at a coo-coo clock that hung from the wall of his garage. It was a small wooden thing he made all by himself. It was his most prized possession. After all, how many people owned self powering clocks made completely of wood? It was 7:00 in the morning. The newspaper boy should be passing by any moment now. There was a ring of a bicycle bell. Of course. Right on time. Joe grunted as he pushed his little out of shape body up from his creaky wooden bench and ran out the garage to meet the boy. The paperboy was the only boy who was willing to bike through all of the desolate landscape and dirt trails to drop off the newspaper at his house without asking for extra charge. The poor boy was always so tired after he got here, Joe always had to keep him for company for as long as he could before the boy had to get going to send the rest of the papers he had in his sack.
“Hey Will!” He waved as he walked over to the boy to get his newspaper.
"Hey Joe. Whatssup?” A teenage boy no older 19 or 20 waved as he got off his bike panting while trying to dust the dirt off of everything.
“Still dealing with the dirt?”
“Yeah. The ground’s been pretty dry these days. Winter and dirt clouds do not match well.” He turned clean his bike. “How’s your day so far?”
“Oh. The usual. You know. Just wood, wood, and more wood. I did make something really cool. You want to see?”
“Sure.” The boy followed Joe into his garage where Joe had left his little creation. Joe picked up the little wooden statue and gave it to Will. It was a figure of a butterfly that was just a little bigger then the boy’s palm and rested gently on his hand like a real butterfly. It was quite a beauty. Each little swirl and circle that was carved into the wings of the butterfly was delicately designed and danced in the dim light of the garage. If Joe had made hinges for the wings, the butterfly would have been real enough to fly away.
“Wow... You really are a woodcarver aren’t ye.” Will grinned as he studied the little wooden butterfly, tracing the swirls on the wings with his finger. Joe blushed a little.
“Oh, that’s nothing. I’ll get at most 20 for that little thing.”
“20! Only 20? I wouldn’t give away this little thing for 100!”
“Ah... But what can you do? They give the price. I accept the price. If I bargain, they don’t want it. I don’t understand why it’s so hard to sell wood carvings anymore.” Joe shook his head sadly.
“Yeah... That sure is a shame.” Will looked at it fondly and stroked it gently.
“You know what?” He suddenly said, eyes lighting up. “I’ll buy it.”