The Blacksmith

Overdevelopment surrounds this town like a giant wave, waiting to engulf the countryside. One freeway exit and life becomes quickly different. Time picks off, one by one, the things that tie us to yesterday.

The through traffic was diverted to the freeway and the town suffered. Local giant supermarkets have all but closed the local general store. I wouldn't expect that this town would have many visitors. I'm sure the locals prefer it that way.

I had to keep in mind I was there for a purpose.

As I approached the the property my eyes lit up. The setting was magical. I parked at the bottom and decided to make my way up the driveway by foot.

Smoke bellowed from a large flue, the comforting smell of burning oak filled the air and warmed my soul. As I approached this old timber barn I'm caught in time. There is nothing to suggest that I haven't warped back to the nineteenth century. It feels like I'm in a 'live' picture that was taken in black and white.

The backdrop was a postcard, this rickety timber barn was surrounded by large beautiful tress. A narrow dirt road winds about 50m toward the entrance, a faded' BLACKSMITH' sign sits above the larger barn door.

To the left of the barn was an old horse trough, remnants of a different time surrounded me completely.

The main house was further up the hill but the Blacksmith was already working. You couldn't help but be in ore.

An old metal light shade hangs from the wall, it's a filament globe so the light is soft an appealing. The sounds of the birds welcoming a new day were the soundtrack for my adventure.

The clank of steel became louder as I got closer. The morning was getting brighter by the minute. A rusty horse shoe dangerously hanging from one nail sat above the door way.

As I entered further I could see the soft glow of the flames play on the blacksmiths face mask as he prodded the timber with a large steel rod. The radiant heat became stronger as I got closer.

The Blacksmith was a strong, robust and thick man. Age had tired him but he still swung his hammer with brute force.

An old AM radio sat in the corner, filling the room with music, like it always did.

"She takes a while to fire up now, the tubes aren't what they used to be" He mumbled.

Embers fly up from the flames, they travel upward with the heat and extinguish like shooting stars.

"won't be a minute son!" he said in a gruff voice.

The barn was lined with trinkets that would go back a hundred years, if not more. Every wall was full, some items more rusty than others. This blacksmith was the 'third generation' son in his family to take on this skill.

"My great grandfather built all this with his bare-hands" as his large chest proudly pushed forward.

This barn had been doing its duty for over 50000 days. Its facade had seen each and every one of them. He had knives that his great grandfather made, toys, and everything thing you could forge from steel. The walls had many stories to tell, if I could just tune in.

Just like his barn, the blacksmith was old and getting tired.

He raised his large muscular arms in despair.

"my son wasn't interested" he said with a disappointed voice.

"I tried, he moved to the city" as he tilted his forward and looked down at his boots. His wife quietly interrupted his speech by placing a tray of scones on the front table. She placed her hand in the middle of his back and smiled. She then acknowledged me with a polite nod and made her way back to the house.

"My processes were replaced by machines years ago. My craft and skills will retire with me"

"My barn will be demolished and this skill will be lost to time"

His comments were separated by a grunt and the sound of his hammer against the metal.

"My barn will end up being someones backyard, levelled by progress"

He angrily raised his hammer and again forcefully struck the metal.

By now the sun had taken over from the light of the fire and the lamps. The moisture and dust in the air glowed in the sunlight like a pathway into the barn.

He sat a big steel kettle on the stove as he prepared for another day. His heavy leather apron and face mask made him look like Ned Kelly.

"How can I help you, son?"

"I was fascinated by your building and its incredible history and I had to see it for myself, Sir" which was partially true.

The blacksmith could see that I was completely fascinated by his collections and proudly let me keep looking.

I wasn't prepared to tell him that I was sent by a developer to make an offer on this incredible piece of land. I also wasn't looking forward to telling the vultures back at the office that he was not interested.

"I stood over at that anvil with my father when I was just ten years old. I will never forget the first time he put his hammer in my hand.

My arm fell rapidly with it to the floor, it was heavy"

I could see the history, this was this mans life and I wasn't going to ruin his dream.

"If you're here because my son wants me to sell, tell him, thanks but no thanks" he said sternly.

"I wanted the opportunity to 'travel in time' and you gave it to me. Thank you."

By now the sky was bright, the autumn sun warmed my face as I walked down the driveway. The morning magic has left, but it will be back again tomorrow.

I know that time will catch up, it always does. For now, the Blacksmith will live to forge another day.

Thanks -dunno if its any good. first attempt was fun.