Wednesday, February 24, 2010 at 02:59PM

One of the things I love about turning bowls and tending our farm is working with my hands. However, this often leaves them rough and calloused. And on most occasions stained in the prints and under the nails. I personally don't see a problem here. But I do get odd looks from time to time. Whether it's from my mother-in-law taken aback by my nails as I take a bite of bread or an old friend sneering at them at a grade school reunion. I am so used to this condition these responses seem odd to me. On several occasions my daughter has told me I have "scratchy" hands and that I need to "fix" them. But alas, I am not the type of person to get a manicure or scrub them with some dried out sea creature. So I guess I will continue to live with this affliction. In doing so I would ask those repulsed by my grotesque hands to be more tolerant.

That being said, tongue planted firmly in cheek, I enjoy the rugged nature of my hands. They are a reminder of my projects. Be it a stain from the polyurethane I applied to a vessel that I have been laboring over for weeks. Or a splinter that has been plaguing me since the final nail hammered into my barn stalls. Oddly enough, while inspecting them, I feel closer to my ancestors. They take me to time before people were crammed into air-conditioned cubicles forced to pound away feverishly on keyboards. And with that last thought lingering I will wrap this up.


Article originally appeared on EFM Wooden Bowls (http://www.kywoodenbowls.com/).
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