The Wall of Anomalies

My brother's son, Will moved here not too long ago.  Because of a woman.  And because, well, California.  He fits in here.
A couple days ago we go on a road trip together so we could have a talk unimpeded for half a day.  And to take him to my church.

One of my favorite places to stop and pee.  Will doing what he does.

At this point I don't need to be let into my church.  I'm allowed to walk in and turn on the lights by myself.

Will starts to talk, which he does....a lot....and I shush him.  The next 15 minutes he walks around taking Communion.  He touches, smells, stands before each of the offerings.  He says he's never seen anything like it.
"I could sleep on this one."

Last time I set aside a piece of wood that wouldn't fit in my car so eventually we go looking for it.

We head up to The Wall of Anomalies, that area of the sawmill they stand up too small, orphans, mismatches, bookmarkless, warped, twisted, punked, and all of the above.  There's a small congregation of women from Laney College woodworking classes going through the wall as well.

Find my one piece with my name on it and Will says we ain't leaving here without another.
There it was, we muscle it out from behind some other castoffs standing there.
I do a rough calculation of the board foot in it and what I'm thinking would be the $/bd. ft.
I come with $600.  Nick, the second in command, the foreman of Aborica, tells me $30.
"It's from the Wall of Anomalies," he says.
The piece I came to get was $10.  You see that's what happens when you make yourself as unuseful as you can. The gnarly twisted tree doesn't get cut down as much as the straighter ones do. (Read some Tasoism to understand this.)

Stopping in Olema for a beer and bowl of garlic fries.

Red Gum Eucalyptus with the most beautiful swoop of sap wood around the top.  And a topographic piece of what I think is Walnut.
Not sure which, but one is going to be a light.
Or not.  I still need to sit and listen to some gospel coming from them.