| OUR FRIEND SEAN SEXTON and my husband Barney stopped in at Jesse Aaron’s workshop to pick out an August birthday present for me. Jesse had not been well, but they met him in his studio. Jesse was absorbed in finishing a large cedar carving—rough-hewn, as was his vision, a thoughtful, tranquil sculpture of a horse’s head. Barney said he would like to have it.

Jesse began working with wood when he was 81. He and the Lord had a discussion at 3 a.m. one morning. The story has it that Jesse asked the Lord to show him something. The answer, strong and absolute said, “Jesse, go carve wood.” He chipped and pulled figures of animals and people out of North Florida hardwoods for 11 years. This sculpture emerged at the very end of his life.

Jesse nodded and asked where it was going. Hearing it was out by Ichetucknee Springs, he replied, “Good! Then it’s going full circle. I worked out there as a boy.”

A while later, after this beauty of a beast found its place in our home near the springs, I stopped in at Jesse’s to thank him.  As I parked, I could see Jesse in his side yard gathering twigs to toss on his little fire. I walked towards him, picking up some smooth grey branches from whatever had fallen along the street.

We sat in his rickety old outside chairs for a while, taking in the last of the day’s warmth, quietly warding off the damp of cool September mists.

He told me then about having worked, digging phosphate, for Loncala Mining Company in Fort White. He was 16 years old and how, when there was a “problem” with a worker—Jesse didn’t have to say black or white—they’d be tied to a cement block and made to stand in the chill, cold water of the headspring all day.

Jesse was quiet, an introspective man, but his eyes took in everything. A lively curiosity rested far back under dark, bushy brows. His brown face radiated an inner peace evident in his body of work.

We didn’t need to say any more, but I could see he was ready to head back inside. I thanked him once again. We both smiled. I walked towards my car but turned back to watch as he raked dirt over the still glowing coals. Then I headed for home.