Local Wood
Oct 20 2014


An unimposing house.
With tall leafy trees
for shade,

a wide veranda
skirting 3 sturdy walls
that invites you to stay.
It sits lightly
on its native soil,
as grounded as its inhabitants.

It was made from local wood,
mature trees
rooted in the same stony soil
as its strong foundation,
felled by hand
and left to season

in whatever sun there was.

How would it feel, instead
if kiln-dried 2x4s
had come by long-haul truck?
Strapped-down
in neat rectangular piles
on the double-axel flat-bed,
then dumped
in a freshly clear-cut yard.

Does wood have a sense of place
the affinity of birth?
Nurtured, like me
on a stream-fed lake
on a height of land
on a rocky shore.
In the boreal forest
where life is marginal,

the trees

hardy, but small.

And will it return
to its glacial soil
with the same organic grace
as those once majestic trees,
hollowed-out, by decay

and toppled in a minor breeze?
A falling-down house,
slumping into gentle curves

where the land has settled out,

obscured
by wild overgrowth.
Crumbling into rotten wood
the colour of earth.

I think a house
made of local wood
will last.
And it will feel like home,
creaking in wind, expanding in heat,
letting in
the perfect light
no matter what the season.


The real estate section had a small article about a new library somewhere in China. (Here's the cut-line from the photo. Unfortunately, the picture itself wouldn't copy: "The Liyuan Li­brary, de­signed by Li Xiaodong, in Jiao­jiehe, China, is made for the lo­cal cli­mate, runs with­out elec­tric power or me­chan­i­cal ven­ti­la­tion and is a vi­brant com­mu­nity in­sti­tu­tion.") It was made of locally sourced wood, and was beautiful. It looked warm, comfortable, inviting -- as do most things made of wood. The provenance of the wood was emphasized, and seemed critical to the architect's vision. 

I thought, of course, about this recently popular ideology of the “local”: the celebration of terroire; the sourcing of food from nearby and in-season; concerns about a global economy; and the environmental cost of distance.

Which is how I came to writing a poem about "local wood". A library would have worked. But a home, even better.