stood there and watched it, and it watched me. It was beautiful and seemed friendly, like a big dog. I said hi, and its head swayed back and forth a little, then it turned and ran.
You said hi.
Yeah, I said hi, and now I work for a vet. I’ve always had this good feeling about animals, that they don’t ever really want to hurt us. We just get in their way sometimes.
You win for best bear story.
They arrived at the campground, and Monique directed Rhoda to the tent. They parked very close, and Carl poked his head out.
Hey, Monique said.
What the fuck, Carl said.
Don’t be mad.
It’s raining and miserable, Rhoda said. Why don’t you both come to our place. You can dry out for the day, have dinner, spend the night. I’ll bring you back here tomorrow at lunch.
Monique laughed. Jim would freak. That sounds great, she said. What do you say, Carl? Mope here by yourself or rejoin human society?
I’m coming, Carl said. I hate this tent.
The logs were not all the same. Some lighter-colored birch, thin bark like paper. Then darker spruce. Every variety of tree from this part of Alaska. And not one of them straight. Knots and bumps and the nubs of sawed-off branches. Gary kept picking up an end and sighting down it, dropping it and moving on to the next.
Raining again, but this time they wore full gear, thick dark green fishermen’s gear, with boots. Irene warm and dry.
Maybe I should have had them planed down, Gary said.
Irene held her tongue. Sat on the edge of the platform and waited. She would do whatever he wanted for this cabin. If he decided to tie the logs together with licorice, or use cake icing to fill the gaps, she’d do it.
Gary selected four of the darker spruce logs finally, measured and sawed the ends so the corners would meet. Forty-five-degree angles, using a handsaw, and he didn’t get them quite right. Yellow sawdust turning orange-red in the rain. The smell of the wood brought out by the sawing. Gary matching corners and wondering at the gaps.
Close enough, he said, but Irene could tell he was getting frustrated already. He had this immaculate idea in his head, and he was seeing the first tarnish now.
She kneeled down and held the logs together while he nailed. Big six-inch nails, galvanized. Her hands wet and cold, the bark rough.
They nailed together four corners and that was the first level of their walls. Two sixteen-foot logs and two twelve-foot logs making a low border. On the uphill side, the log came almost to the floor. The downhill log was more than a foot short.
At the roof, we’ll add partial layers to even it all up? Irene asked.
Yeah, Gary said. We’ll have to do that. Though I guess a roof can be tilted, too. Might look kind of interesting. And he grinned at Irene.
Irene laughed. It would have that rustic feel.
It’s a deal, Gary said. We’re doing a tilted roof.
Irene put her arm around Gary and gave a squeeze. Maybe it would work out. Maybe it would be okay that the cabin would look ridiculous.
Second layer? he asked.
You bet, she said. She was dizzy and had an ice pick in her brain, but she was doing her best to ignore that. Maybe she needed more antibiotics.
They measured again and he sawed the ends. The rain came down harder, blown by more wind, so they faced away from it.
Irene held the corners while he nailed, and she could see enormous gaps between the two layers. In some spots, maybe two or three inches of air between logs.
Damn it, Gary said.
The rain blowing sideways now, as if to show what would happen to these gaps. Irene slipped a Tramadol quickly while Gary was distracted. She was almost out. She needed to ask Rhoda for more.
Damn it, Gary said again. I need a planer, but by hand it’s going to take forever. All those knots and cut-off branches, all the bark. There’s no way I can get through that. I should have had them planed before. I knew that. I knew that and I didn’t do it.
It’s your first time doing this, Irene said.
But I knew
You said hi.
Yeah, I said hi, and now I work for a vet. I’ve always had this good feeling about animals, that they don’t ever really want to hurt us. We just get in their way sometimes.
You win for best bear story.
They arrived at the campground, and Monique directed Rhoda to the tent. They parked very close, and Carl poked his head out.
Hey, Monique said.
What the fuck, Carl said.
Don’t be mad.
It’s raining and miserable, Rhoda said. Why don’t you both come to our place. You can dry out for the day, have dinner, spend the night. I’ll bring you back here tomorrow at lunch.
Monique laughed. Jim would freak. That sounds great, she said. What do you say, Carl? Mope here by yourself or rejoin human society?
I’m coming, Carl said. I hate this tent.
The logs were not all the same. Some lighter-colored birch, thin bark like paper. Then darker spruce. Every variety of tree from this part of Alaska. And not one of them straight. Knots and bumps and the nubs of sawed-off branches. Gary kept picking up an end and sighting down it, dropping it and moving on to the next.
Raining again, but this time they wore full gear, thick dark green fishermen’s gear, with boots. Irene warm and dry.
Maybe I should have had them planed down, Gary said.
Irene held her tongue. Sat on the edge of the platform and waited. She would do whatever he wanted for this cabin. If he decided to tie the logs together with licorice, or use cake icing to fill the gaps, she’d do it.
Gary selected four of the darker spruce logs finally, measured and sawed the ends so the corners would meet. Forty-five-degree angles, using a handsaw, and he didn’t get them quite right. Yellow sawdust turning orange-red in the rain. The smell of the wood brought out by the sawing. Gary matching corners and wondering at the gaps.
Close enough, he said, but Irene could tell he was getting frustrated already. He had this immaculate idea in his head, and he was seeing the first tarnish now.
She kneeled down and held the logs together while he nailed. Big six-inch nails, galvanized. Her hands wet and cold, the bark rough.
They nailed together four corners and that was the first level of their walls. Two sixteen-foot logs and two twelve-foot logs making a low border. On the uphill side, the log came almost to the floor. The downhill log was more than a foot short.
At the roof, we’ll add partial layers to even it all up? Irene asked.
Yeah, Gary said. We’ll have to do that. Though I guess a roof can be tilted, too. Might look kind of interesting. And he grinned at Irene.
Irene laughed. It would have that rustic feel.
It’s a deal, Gary said. We’re doing a tilted roof.
Irene put her arm around Gary and gave a squeeze. Maybe it would work out. Maybe it would be okay that the cabin would look ridiculous.
Second layer? he asked.
You bet, she said. She was dizzy and had an ice pick in her brain, but she was doing her best to ignore that. Maybe she needed more antibiotics.
They measured again and he sawed the ends. The rain came down harder, blown by more wind, so they faced away from it.
Irene held the corners while he nailed, and she could see enormous gaps between the two layers. In some spots, maybe two or three inches of air between logs.
Damn it, Gary said.
The rain blowing sideways now, as if to show what would happen to these gaps. Irene slipped a Tramadol quickly while Gary was distracted. She was almost out. She needed to ask Rhoda for more.
Damn it, Gary said again. I need a planer, but by hand it’s going to take forever. All those knots and cut-off branches, all the bark. There’s no way I can get through that. I should have had them planed before. I knew that. I knew that and I didn’t do it.
It’s your first time doing this, Irene said.
But I knew
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