Life is beautiful.

I am a carpenter. I have been a carpenter since I was about 14 and I used to help Dad. Dad was a carpenter and he used to help Gramps. Gramps was a carpenter and he learned the trade from his Pa. A carpenter means that you work with a saw and a hammer. That’s it. If you need more tools you should become a cabinet-maker or a joiner.

I am 44 years old which means I have 30 years of experience as a carpenter. Nothing that I have ever worked on has collapsed, or even sagged. All my work is perfect. No shoddy corners, no place where you can get splinters, no unsightly workmanship. Good, clean, professional work.

So when this new foreman, who looks about 18 and says he’s 26 and has a certificate from a college that says that he is proficient in building matters, said: “Look here, Fred, I don’t like the way your work looks,” I didn’t throw my hammer at him, I just picked up my 2 tools, and said, “then you can do without me!” and walked off the site.

I went straight up 3^rd street, past the church, past the pharmacy, past the hairdresser, past the post office, up the hill and out of town. 

Five miles later I was still walking, although most of the steaming rage inside me had vaporized. It was one of those great days, sunshine, blue skies, birds flitting around and having fun. Why should I walk around feeling miserable on a day like this?

At the top of the hill I crossed the road and walked into the woods. I knew these woods. I used to play here with Joey and Billy, and later with Rosie and Gladys. We had built a secret hideaway where no one could see us. We also spread stories about the strange zombies who roamed the woods in search of children. No one came near us.

I stopped when I reached our old meeting place. A small clearing among the trees and thick forest undergrowth. The clearing was overgrown and smaller than I remembered. I used my saw to cut a couple of new branches to make a place where I could sit against a tree. Then I sat. And thought.

It took about 20 minutes for the lamp in my slow brain to glow with excitement. Build a cabin! You are a carpenter, remember? Wife gone. Two daughters married and far away. Build a cabin! For you it will be easy. You have the tools. There’s plenty of wood right here. Build a cabin! I challenge you, carpenter!

Five minutes later I was inspecting the ground. Could I clean the roots and branches and ferns and debris and get it level? My cabin must have a level floor. I began right then. Pulling, breaking, bending, snapping, and the clearing became larger and cleaner. Then I walked five miles home feeling tired but pleased with myself. 

In the morning I came with an axe, a spade and a bucket and spent the day doing some serious cleaning and leveling. That evening I sketched a plan and in the morning I began looking for trees for the walls. Cutting down trees with an axe and a handsaw is no easy task. It took me a week to cut enough for the outside walls, cut them to size and drag them through the forest to my site. I was exhausted every day. Then I received a phone call from my former employer to tell me that my final pay-packet was ready and I should pick it up at the office. 

On the way back home with cash in my pocket I passed a bicycle store. I stopped, took one look and headed for the door. A salesman asked me what I was looking for.

“A cycle, but not at your prices,” I said.

“We have used ones, Sir. Care to look?”

I looked and loved. A sturdy old-fashioned bike with thick tires, a basket in front and carrier at the back. At a price I could afford. I rode it home.

My work-day increased by 2 hours and things moved along quickly. I laid trees across the roof, being careful to slope sharply so that water or snow would fall off quickly. On top of the rafters I screwed in photo-voltaic plates, the kind that converts sunlight to electricity. And I left a hole for a future chimney. What if it snows?

The outer walls were up. I made a door and three windows, put in the plumbing and finally laid the floor. I could move in, I thought. The final test was still to come: electricity, internet, phone services. And water?

I called Al, the plumber. “In that forest there is a firefighting system. Installed years ago in case of a fire. Look for it. Bright red pipes sticking up out of the ground. Probably all covered up by now. And never been used, to my knowledge. You can tap into the main line anywhere or if you can’t manage it, call me and I’ll come and help.”  

The other two major services I needed in order to lead a ‘normal’ life, were an internet connection for my clunky old computer and telephone. I tried my cell phone but there was no service here in the woods. Satellite, I thought. Internet? Have to check it but I’m sure satellite will work.

By time I moved in the summer was over and the days were shorter. And cooler. The rains came and the roof leaked. The entrance was muddy where I had churned up the earth and not tamped it down. The nights were cold and I had no heating. I built a fireplace. I was surrounded by fuel and I converted one window to permanently open louvers so a fire would have oxygen to feed on.

I made a bed, two chairs and a table, hammered a couple of nails into the walls for clothes. Then I read an interesting book on “How to Survive in the Woods” which included a section on finding, preparing and eating forest foods. And I added a small bathroom.

I was set. No job, no salary and no boss. I threw away my watch. And my cell-phone.

I’ve been here for 4 years now and it has been a perfect life. I made one adjustment. I needed cash to buy necessities so I opened a small workshop making forest furniture. I never bothered with the internet or the telephone. Life without them was better. People who wanted my services found me. Follow the arrows to Fred’s Forest Furniture. I made another adjustment. She is called Marie and actually, she found me. She is gorgeous, full of fun and energy.

Life is beautiful.