The Knock

Seasoned firewood, they say, rings like a bell when you knock two pieces together. Wet wood goes thud. It's in every book and on every website. Nobody mentions that you have to be able to hear the difference.

I can't. I knock two logs together and it sounds like two logs. I've been doing it for eight months, standing in the yard in the morning with my coffee going cold on a stump.

I've tried everything. Closed my eyes. Held one up to my ear. Switched logs. It's all the same sound, which is the sound of a man trying.

Last Tuesday my neighbor Dale came out on his porch across the street. He had two pieces of wood. He knocked them together. Twice.

Now, I don't know what that means. I knocked back. Once, because I wasn't sure.

He knocked three times.

We've been at it a week. I think we're having a conversation. I think he asked about the weekend. I think I said no.

I still don't know whose wood is dry. But I'll say this. After eight months, it's nice to finally be answered.