Twice Warmed

August 3, 2019

Already the days are shortening, having lost more than two hours since the summer solstice. The sun shone brightly, raising beads of sweat on my brow as I worked, preparing for those long nights when the wind whips the snow in miniature tornadoes and rattles the windows. 

It was a good day. Eleven-year old Nathan and thirteen-year old Eliza rode up the hill with me to Paul’s house where we again thrice loaded my truck with seasoned firewood he can no longer use, having installed a new propane furnace. Each time we started unloading and stacking in my woodshed, Linda brought little Gemma to help with the small chunks and bark. It was hot, sweaty work, but the woodshed is nearly full. 

This afternoon, David, a young man from church, and pastor Joe came by and felled two ash trees that fell victim to the ash borer. Last year they were lush and strong; today when they fell, the upper limbs shattered, so devastating is the plague of those beetles. By suppertime, I had the upper branches sawed into chunks; before the week is out, the rest of it will be chunked, split, and stacked. There is so much, it won’t all fit in my woodshed, so tomorrow on the way home from church, I’ll have to pick up a few posts to drive into the ground so I can stack the rest of it out back. 

It’s been a good day. I am grateful for the strength to cut and stack firewood, for grandchildren eager to help, for friends like David with the knowhow to drop those trees right where he wanted them, and for the equipment to finish the job. I am blessed beyond measure, and will recount these blessings in December when I am once more warmed by this wood.