enjoyebooks Chapter 129 Crafts
Chapter 129 Crafts
There are new bamboo shoots and old bamboo shoots. The culms of new bamboo shoots are bluish-green with a thin layer of white powder on the surface, while the culms of old bamboo shoots are dark green with fine cracks on the nodes.
She reached out and patted a bamboo stalk, bringing her ear close to listen to the sound it made when it was struck—a muffled, solid sound without any hollow echo.
She picked another one, tapped it again, and this time the sound was a little crisper. She shook her head. After selecting about four or five, she stopped in front of a three-year-old bamboo. The bamboo was as thick as her wrist, with short, dense internodes, and the stalk grew straight upwards.
She gripped the machete tightly, aimed at the bamboo root, and sliced diagonally into it. With the first cut, the bamboo only made a small opening, and bamboo shavings flew out and landed on her shoes.
The second cut landed in the same spot, but this time it was deeper. When the third cut came down, a crisp snapping sound came from the bamboo root, as clear as bone breaking.
The bamboo swayed and slowly tilted. She reached out and supported the bamboo pole, then laid it down on the ground.
She dragged the bamboo stalk into the yard. The bamboo was very long, and the tip dragged on the muddy ground, making a rustling sound as it scraped against the ground, following her all the way.
When it was dragged to the open space in the yard, a section of the bamboo tip had already been worn away, and the broken end was covered with mud and broken leaves.
She placed the bamboo on the ground and took out a handsaw from her toolbox. Positioning the saw blade about two fingers' width above the bamboo node, the teeth biting into the bamboo fibers, she began sawing back and forth.
The saw made a rustling sound, and bamboo shavings flew out from the cut, landing on her knees, on the muddy ground, and accumulating in a small pile of pale yellow dust around the cut. Halfway through, the saw blade jammed; she stopped, lifted the saw slightly, and continued. The severed bamboo section bounced on the ground, rolled half a circle, and came to rest beside the persimmon tree root.
Next came splitting the bamboo. She stood the sawn bamboo section upright, aiming the bamboo-splitting knife at the center of the bamboo end. With the blade pressed against the bamboo fibers, she took a deep breath and chopped down with one stroke.
The bamboo split in the middle, not slowly, but instantly from the cut, the entire bamboo section split in two. She stood the split bamboo strips upright again and continued to cut them into strips with the bamboo-splitting knife.
The blade travels down along the grain of the bamboo fibers, and the bamboo strips split from the blade with a fine, crisp tearing sound. Each bamboo strip is separated from the mother bamboo with a soft snapping sound.
The separated bamboo strips were still very rough, with tiny burrs all over the edges. She picked up a scraper, placed the bamboo strips on her knees, and scraped back and forth along the edges of the strips with the blade.
One by one, the burrs fell off, and the bamboo strips went from rough to smooth, the surface changing from frosted to matte. After scraping one strip, she picked it up and looked at it in the light, scraped it a couple more times, and then put it into the wooden basin next to her.
The wooden basin was already half full of water, and the bamboo strips made a soft "plop" sound as they entered the water. She scraped all the bamboo strips and pressed them to the bottom of the water with her hand.
The bamboo strips swayed gently in the water, bubbles rising from the fibers and climbing to the surface in strings. After soaking for about half an hour, she scooped up a strip; water droplets dripped from it, splashing onto the surface of the basin and creating tiny ripples. The strip had softened; it could be bent without breaking.
Su Peixue carried the basin of water to the persimmon tree and sat on a small stool. Sunlight filtered through the sparse branches of the persimmon tree, casting faint dappled patterns on her knees. She scooped the bamboo strips from the basin, drained them, and began to weave.
The bamboo strips were crossed in her hands, five horizontally and five vertically, forming a small square. Her fingers began to weave, the bamboo strips rubbing against each other making a soft, dense rustling sound.
She weaves quickly but with a steady rhythm—picking up the horizontal strips one by one, threading the vertical strips underneath, and then pressing them down.
The bottom of the bamboo basket gradually took shape, from a small cross to a square the size of a palm, and then to a regular circle larger than a palm.
After the bottom of the basket was woven, she bent the bamboo strips upwards and began to weave the body of the basket.
This step is more difficult than the bottom of the basket because the bamboo strips must withstand both upward bending force and lateral weaving force at the same time, and the degree of force depends entirely on the fingers.
Her fingers moved up and down rhythmically, the bamboo strips flying and intertwining in her hands, each press solid and firm, the strips interlocking and stacking upwards.
The basketball hoop gradually increased in height, from one inch to two inches, and from two inches to three inches.
When finishing, she folded the last strip of bamboo into the woven pattern, weaving and securing it one by one, making sure each end was neatly concealed.
The handle was made of three bamboo strips twisted together. She fixed one end of the strip to the edge of the basket opening, then twisted the strips together with both hands. The three strips twisted tighter and tighter, and when they were twisted tighter, they were intertwined and finally fixed to the other side of the basket opening.
She placed the woven bamboo basket on the wooden table. The bottom of the basket hit the table with a dull thud. The entire basket was made without a single nail or piece of wire; its shape was entirely supported by the natural grain and interlocking of the bamboo strips.
She stood up, took two steps back, looked around, and then carried her bamboo basket to the vegetable garden. The chives in the corner of the yard had grown tall, and there were a few more vegetable seedlings she had brought back from Dehang next to them. She squatted down, picked a few vegetables, and put them in the basket. The vegetables were bright green, contrasting beautifully with the yellowish-green of the bamboo strips.
She walked back carrying a bamboo basket, which swayed gently in the crook of her arm.
The camera pans out. The only sounds in the frame are the wind and birdsong.
Two days after the video of the bamboo basket was completed, Su Peixue began making the second item.
Sunlight filters through the leaves in the mountain forest, casting dappled shadows on the forest floor. It's not a uniform, continuous light, but rather fragmented, flickering light cut by the leaves, with the edges of each leaf's shadow clearly defined.
The wind blew down from the mountaintop, and the sound of the pines rolled down from above, turning into scattered rustling of leaves as it approached. Su Peixue walked through the forest, her footsteps rustling on the fallen leaves. The leaves were from last year, completely dry, crunchy underfoot, each step leaving a deep indentation revealing damp humus beneath.
She stopped in front of a fallen tree. The tree lay across the forest floor, its trunk covered with a layer of dark green moss with yellowish edges, and it felt damp to the touch.
The bark of the fallen tree had already begun to rot; a piece could be easily broken off by hand. She walked around the fallen tree, squatted down, and tapped different parts of the trunk.
Some parts sounded hollow when tapped, indicating they were rotten. Other parts sounded solid, suggesting they were still usable. She stood up, identified a spot, and took a handsaw from her toolbox.
She placed the handsaw on the tree trunk, its teeth biting into the bark. She began sawing back and forth, the saw making a rustling sound, and sawdust flying everywhere. The sawdust was pale yellow and smelled of pine resin.