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A year ago, my first piece went on display at the entrance to Big Horn Meadow at Camp Tahosa in Colorado. Miraculously, it survived the winter and into the summer. Everyone who sees it loves it. It wasn't signed, so people who don’t know me don’t know I carved it. And, sometime during the spring, someone moved the welcome sign from the bridge to the carving, making it official.
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The sun’s warm on my face rising above the jungle below. Chirps and squawks greet the dawn as light reaches down through the canopy of green. My eyes open slowly, taking measure of the day. Sitting up, I look out, the jungle to the left and civilization to the right. My home is a tree house on the edge of the jungle - my retreat and escape when society is too much.
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- Written by Eric
- Category: Eric
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I have a hobby, carving wood. I love the feel of the wood and how the figure appears, gradually, under the touch of my knife. Often I don’t quite know what will result, but I have an image in my mind. Then I connect the image and the wood. Together the three of us produce the figure.
It might be a chain, or a ball in a cage. Perhaps it becomes an ice cream cone with two sloppy scoops on top. I even made a french fry, once. Or it could be a dolphin playing in the sea.
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It is an imposing edifice! Ok, it's a big building with columns rising out of the mist of snow on a chilly day, snow falling lightly. But edifice sounds better. It is dark and a little frightening. I don't even have the “company” of my competition, for I am on a special mission for the Ministry. Ok, for the government.
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- Written by Eric
- Category: Eric
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The terrain is unfamiliar, even weird, as if I'm on another world. I know I'm not, but I have never been here. Perched on a rock outcrop, I survey my surroundings. A ridge of hills overlook a long valley. Most are higher than the one I'm on. Looking into the valley, I see a long, narrow lake surrounded by forest, though the shore is clear of brush. On the far side is a track, recently used, if not well-traveled. Some people are walking, flanking a slow-moving flat bed truck with side panels. I can't see what the truck carries, though the people seem to be guards: two in front, two on the sides, two behind, all armed.
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