73rd of Spring, 506 AV
“Do stones last longer than wood?”
Little Rohka asked her great grandmother a question she’d been holding since picking up several little pebbles by the shore. The waves gently lapped at the dirt while she sat upon the grassy ground, two stones in hand, her hair in two braids that she’d slept in the night before and hadn’t taken apart. The morning rays of sun were beginning to form dew on every blade, and Rohka kept her eyes on the ground as she listened for an answer.
Leonara continued to carve away at the cedar log before her. She was sitting down as well, legs crossed, her own hair tightly braided with every single silver strand locked in place with an oil she made herself. The call of a bird signalling food carried through the wind, and Leonara Calico looked up from her work to see the child looking up at her. The innocence in the face she saw made her own heart aware of the time they were now able to spend, as she knew her own time was short in this world. It made her smile. The girl's question was fair, of course, but she was certain that the answer wouldn't satisfy the curiosity in a way that Rohka had probably hoped for.
"It depends on the type of stone and the type of wood, Rowboat," said the Calico woman, invoking the nickname that she'd given the child when she was born. "There are soft stones and there are hard stones. There are trees with wood that can last for a season and there are trees with wood that can last for a lifetime. Our own lumber is known to last for many lifetimes. You could almost say that it's magic." Leonara winked, knowing that the mention of magic would spin the wheels in Rohka's mind.
The ten-year-old child stood up slowly, smiling. "Magic?" she asked, still holding the two pebbles. "But Gran, why does it take magic for something to last for a long time?"
Leonara took in a breath and used her chisel to begin an arc in the log. She answered as she continued to draw out the design she was working to complete this morning.
"Time is never really on our side. It's better that you understand that sooner than later, my child. We are mortal beings, which means that you and I live in bodies that don't last forever. But trees and stones are different. The stones you hold in your hand were most likely formed out of the heat and pressure deep under the ground from so many years before you were born. And the trees with the large tree trunks? Have you ever looked at a tree stump, Rohka? There are rings within rings on them, have you noticed that? You can see them here too, in the carving. The light wood, and the dark wood," said Leonara, pointing out the lines with her finger.
The girl nodded, her head slightly tilted as she tried to put the pieces of logic together.
"These are growth rings. The wood is light here because it grew quickly during the spring and summer. It's dark here because it grew slowly in the winter. This log will not grow anymore, Rowboat. Unlike you and I right now, this is a dead tree." She paused when she saw the beginnings of a frown on her great granddaughter's face. She motioned for the girl to come closer. Rohka walked over and placed the palm-sized pebbles on top of the log.
"This tree won't grow anymore, but it will last for as long as we choose to let it last. I chose to make it into something that I see in it. I also choose to protect it from burning or rotting for as long as I work with it. For as long as I am alive, I use every ounce of my being to protect our trees, Rowboat. That is the only magic I use."