It begins with all the trees in Canada and culled down to all
the cedar and narrowed further to only the straightest
and these, these genetically favored applicants finding their way
to the mill and from this a hand-picked selection destined for Prowell's
shop to arrive as the purest and truest planks waiting expectantly
in his wood bins for those glorious few days of Prowell's undivided
attention.
They become close, naturally. Slowly revealing the eventual form and
design of their everlasting appearance and perhaps a few words regarding
the new owners and a few words about their ultimate destination ("On
Fifth Avenue there will be many passersby in the latest fashions admiring
your beauty and poise. I promise, you will be the center of everyone's
attention").
They grow conditioned to the sound of his voice, the sound of Prowell
singing his favorite arias or laughing at his own little jokes as
their various parts and extremities are formed and joined and with
each passing hour they can take measure of their looks and general
appeal with a growing pride and at this juncture, nearly always, they
take a keen interest in their new owners with the endless questions
such as "What color is the sky in North Carolina?"
But of course there arrives the day when their time in the shop
is finished, accompanied by that clinging apprehension of an awaiting
crate and a long truck ride and into a wide world far beyond the known
world. And, like all unique creations, there are those who need a
little reassurance, a little quality time by the pool out behind the
shop where Prowell might read aloud a passage from Charlotte's Web.
But of course Prowell's mind is already gravitating to those untouched
planks awaiting their turn in the shop. Or perhaps, as in this photo,
to the new prototypes situated along the ledge behind them: The fantastic
innovations that will ultimately solve the long-standing void in landscape
lighting. With their handsome and sturdy good looks and their simplicity
coupled with a break-out development of an unprecedented solar power
conquered by Prowell's pro tem partner and brain-child Kevin Dwan.
But our new gate knows nothing of this. It knows and responds only
to the sound of Prowell's voice tumbling over the passages like a
mellifluous sermon.
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