Carpenter hands

My friend is a rough hewn carpenter who belches and spits with the best of ’em, but he has a curious soft spot in his heart for nature.

We were out camping one day and he came rushing up out of the woods, blue eyes bright with excitement.  “Look at what I found!” he cried, thrusting out a fist clenched tight around something.  I pride myself on my big hands, but his dwarf mine in both size and strength.

I spent a moment praying he hadn’t crushed some poor insect in his eagerness to share, before he opened up his rough and callused hand to reveal…

The tiniest bit of moss!

The tiniest bit of moss!

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3 thoughts on “Carpenter hands

  1. Pingback: A bad influence | standingoutinmyfield

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