The Elm Log

THE ELM LOG

We were sawing firewood when we picked up an elm log and gave a cry of amazement. It was a full year since we had chopped down the trunk, dragged it along behind a tractor and sawn it up into logs, which we had then thrown on to barges and wagons, rolled into stacks and piled up on the ground – and yet this elm log had still not given up! A fresh green shoot had sprouted from it with a promise of a thick, leafy branch, or even a whole new elm tree.

We placed the log on the sawing-horse, as though on an executioner’s block, but we could not bring ourselves to bite into it with our saw. How could we? That log cherished life as dearly as we did; indeed, its urge to live was even stronger than ours.”

― Alexander Solzhenitsyn, Stories and Prose Poems

6 thoughts on “The Elm Log

  1. This reminds me of the first branches of plumeria I was given. It was winter, and the woman who gave them to me said, “Just put them under the bed. You’ll know when to plant them.”
    Indeed, I did. About March, I happened to look, and every stem had leaves sprouting from its top.

    Liked by 1 person

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