Rose and I were making dinner the other night when I did something careless and got a quick gravity check. It’s nice to know you can count on something, I thought as I cleaned the floor. In fact, I got a chuckle, thinking that gravity checks were one of the main reasons the TV program America’s Funniest Videos (AFV) exists. I hadn’t seen that show in a long time but had recently watched an episode and was reminded of just how ubiquitous, misjudged, and funny gravity can be.

This wasn’t my only recent encounter with excessively exuberant gravity. I had another lesson hammered home this fall that kept me from hunting.

You know how accidents come out of nowhere? Well, I was getting some nice birch firewood from a couple trees that had been cut down last fall. One of our neighbors didn’t want the wood and was letting me take it, so I was loading odd-sized pieces into the truck. One piece was too long and heavy to carry, so I was getting it out of the brush and into the open to cut it up. I lifted one end and hand-over-handed it upright and pushed it forward to let it drop. Unfortunately, I didn’t see a nearby stump, and the heavy log dropped right onto it. The bottom end levered instantly up, and its sharp, square-cut end smacked me a really good one on the wrist. Tag-teamed by Archimedes and Newton.

I don’t bruise much, but this one looked like a genuine injury the next morning. And it felt a lot worse than it looked. I took a few days off from moving and cutting wood and then gingerly eased back into it over the weekend. I could hardly move my wrist that Monday. The external bruising went away after a week or so, but internally something had gotten seriously knocked out of whack. I’d leave off working it for a few days, it would feel tolerable, then I’d overuse it again and be back in pain. I’ve been mentally calling that excess physical therapy, and it is getting better. But there have been three times now when I was pretty sure it was finally healed up only to learn from more heavy work that it’s still got a ways to go.

So I had to cancel my intended float trip to go moose hunting. There was no way I could count on being able to row the river. Three of us were scheduled to go, but two of us couldn’t (different reasons), so it didn’t happen. That was one of the best decisions I’ve made, as my next attempt to move firewood showed once again. It’s been about two months now, and after yesterday’s firewood physical therapy I know I still couldn’t row for hours at a time. Nor would I be much good hauling piles of fresh meat out of the field.

So I sat this season out, which does not make me happy. But we still have some of ol’ Bullwinkle in the freezer from last year and a lot of excellent fish, so our favorite wild foods intake won’t suffer unduly, and we also have a lot of great firewood. I am reminded once again, though, that free firewood isn’t free.

(Frequently I can’t remember titles and so I’ll make up something that works for me. AFV is “Whacked in the nuts and falling down.” I might need to shorten that to “The Gravity Show.” I think I’ll go watch some now to see others be stupid with gravity and cheer myself up.)

Buster Keaton, Master of gravity