On the courthouse square, local old timers often still gather to share the comins and goins of their busy days. When I approached this man, I asked what he was making. He looked at the piece of cedar in his hand, looked at his pocket knife, and the pile of chips on the ground, slowly looked up at me, and said … “wood chips”. We talked for awhile after that, and I learned the difference between a “Whittler” and a “carver”. A whittler makes “wood chips”..
The original painting and a large print edition are sold out.