Pine has a smell all its own. And old-board pine even more so. That's one of the simple pleasures that comes from using hand tools. No screaming powered saw, no ear plugs, no safety glasses. Just the smooth even cuts of a 12 point Disston cross-cut with a sharp blade. Thumb guides the first few strokes and then long even pulls, letting the saw do the work--your arm just guides.
I am putting the roof boards on top of the newly-set rafters. These tongue-and-groove boards were rescued from the Park View Motel right before they tore it down. Beautiful knotty pine milled up in Twisp, Washington in the 1950's. A deep amber color made that way by time, varnish and sunlight.
As I measure and saw boards, I think about all of what these boards have seen over the years in the motel...families on vacation, lonely business men trying to be less so with a bottle, kids jumping from bed to bed, late-night rendesvous. And now it is my roof. Hopefully, the boards will look down at an equal amount of living in their new location.
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