What "Traditional Knife" are ya totin' today?

Johnnythefox said:
My 77 arrived today,I started to use it as soon as I could,I like it.

Later I rode my motorbike round and round my local football stadium.

Until it went around from 100,000 miles to exactly 000000 on the odometer.

Then I rode over to Wallingford for the best pizza in the area,finishing with a nice cool ride home. 😎
























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The pizza looks mighty tasty.
 
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Modoc ED said:
Gonna be a hot one again today. Was gonna mow the lawn but that can wait. The swamp cooler is already on and "Abby" the Hoarder is loving it. An Ebony Sowbelly for carry and sausage and waffles for breakfast.

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Ed, I love that dang knife. Those single blades evade me. I want one but can only find a couple different covers that I’m not crazy about. But…I shall eventually prevail. Patience is the key. I’ll find one I can’t live without one of these days!!!!!
 
BrotherJim said:
Wooden Wednesday

In a small rural village on the edge of the bush, old Jonas kept a treasured possession always close. It was an Okapi slip-joint pocket knife, its curved cherry wood handle marked by stars and graceful metal inlays that seemed to shift in certain light with a knowing wink. The blade, thin and sharp as a whispered promise, was made of 1055 carbon steel, scratched and honest. Jonas used it for small chores, to slice fruit, trim herbs, shave a sliver of meat, or carve a small figure when the afternoons turned heavy with heat and drifting thoughts. Each motion part of a careful ritual, as though he were performing a quiet ceremony rather than a simple task.

Every morning, Jonas sat in the sun outside his door and ran a stone along the edge, slow and mindful with meditative strokes. Children gathered around him, their faces bright with wonder. To them, this simple knife was a magical relic. They listened wide-eyed as Jonas shared tales, formed around the knife, of near-mythical escapes and moonlit journeys, each one more fantastic than the last. But always, when they asked if the stories were real, Jonas would only smile and run his thumb along the blade, as if the answer lived hidden in the steel itself.

Some nights, when the last embers of the fire glowed, villagers claimed they saw Jonas standing beneath the stars, holding the knife to the sky as if waiting for a sign. To Jonas, the knife deserved a sort of reverence. It was a testament to resilience and quiet strength, much like the people who had carried these blades across southern Africa for generations. The fact that the knife did not lock never bothered Jonas. He called it a built-in excitement feature that kept a man on his toes, a gentle reminder to stay present and feel each moment fully.

Jonas knew that a man could abandon many things, debts, regrets, but he could never leave behind a good knife, nor the stories it carried. That the true edge lay not in the blade, but in the life that shaped it and those who knew how to use it.


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Got a publisher yet?????😉




ferider said:
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Love that Colson there R....👌
 
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