The Story of The Disappearing Blue Chair

     I don’t know about you, but the older I’ve gotten, the more I appreciate the little things in life. Like sitting in a nice chair when I’m tired. Which brings me to the story of the now infamous, blue chair.

     It wasn’t always blue. In fact, it was a dull black,  partially rusted, flaking mess, missing part of its acorn decoration, when a dear friend gifted it to me over 30 years ago. It was a lone wrought iron chair that didn’t match anything around it. It had some damage, but having been made with quality materials, it had some usefulness left in it. Besides, I’m a sucker for misfits that just need a little love.

     I routinely cut wood on my property, heating exclusively with it. As I have aged, I find it harder to get up off the ground or a log after resting. Combined with the fact that I’m now going out further and further for my wood, I’m taking more breaks during the day. In steps the ever elusive chair, that wasn’t always blue.

     This chair has always been a comfort to me when I’m outdoors, following me on my moves from place to place. My friend has long since passed from this earth, but her presence is felt and wonderful memories recapped each and every time I sit in “her” chair.

     One day I got the idea to take it with me into the woods. The journey was long, as it is a heavy chair. Short excursions were in order, with the chair making its way a little further each time.

     I began sitting in it on my way to deliver the wood to its final seasoning racks, after pulling the wood up from hills in a cart. It seemed like the more I did this the closer I would bring the chair to the woods. Eventually, I brought a little cooler out with me and parked it by the chair. Stopping often to sit a spell and rehydrate.

     As the seasons progressed, it seemed my chair traveled deeper and deeper into the woods.

     I didn’t always go back to the same spots. I did a lot of zig zagging, mostly out of boredom and a zeal for discovery. One day I was attracted to some yellow flowers with pompom’s on them and decided to take a closer look. It was a great discovery. I’d found a patch of St. John’s wort shrubs growing. Being as easily distracted as I am, I decided to see what other native plants were growing on my property.

     The days and months passed. The Fall came and went. The leaves had dropped, the snakes retired, the briars weren’t quite as vicious and the quest for more firewood was once again upon me.

     As I sat out to find the perfect tree to drop, I realized I didn’t see my chair. Oh where, oh where did I leave it? I’d need it to help me rest my bones on the arduous task ahead of me. The day quickly turned from cutting firewood to looking for my chair. I knew I had left it around here some where.

     I searched literally for half a day. I walked hillside after hillside. Just when I had about given up hope, I spotted something in the distance, square(ish) in appearance. It was my chair! How had it gotten this deep in the woods? Oh who cares. I found her!

     The rest of the day was spent bringing that chair up hill after hill. We both looked worse for the wear. Her, rusted once again, me, soaking wet and beet red with my blood pressure sky high. Catching my breath seemed like an unattainable goal. But one thing was for sure. I was never so glad, as to sit in that chair.

     I slept like a baby that night and even dreamed about that goofy chair. When I awoke, I knew one thing. I never wanted to go through that again. So off to the hardware store I drove, to buy some brightly colored paint for my newly discovered chair, in the hopes of never losing “her” again.

     That was a few years ago and the chair, now bright blue, once again resides in the woods as my firewood companion.