“In the dark days before solstice, being indoors becomes a way of life again, with its rhythms of stoking the wood stove, clearing the paths of snow & thinking about the holidays. It is a transition that takes weeks of adjustment, despite good preparation. My cat, who revels in meadow stalking, has thrown in the towel. Instead, he expresses his need to roam by climbing as high as he can, inside the house. This is not always a graceful effort. I’ve tried to clear my top shelves of anything breakable: glass vases, pottery, small grain jars, and tea pots. It’s harder, to block entry points into the plumbing, & crawl spaces, kept open to ensure warmth flows where it needs to go. I don’t blame him. Like me, he wants more excitement, and more food, given all the enforced down time. It feels restrictive, yet, comfortable, to be carefully closed in, with everything we need for survival. I doubt he’s binging with me, on podcasts about cults, spelunking and Christmas crafts. More likely, he’s focused on the elusive trails of the mice he’s been, so far, unable to catch. A collection of winter squash litters my kitchen table, fit for soup, if only I would make it. I’ve just come back down from the yurt, in a squall. How beautiful, and quiet, it is, with the farthest peaks, obscured. It seems so long ago I was racing against the weather clock, to close down gardens. The back seat of my truck is still filled with tool buckets, extra coats, bamboo stakes, grungy tarps and worn out gloves. I feel unready, still, to put things to order, in the garage. It may be too late, to move the kayak under cover. I just barely got the outdoor furniture stowed away. But the firewood situation, is admirable. I won’t be using a sledge hammer this year, to smash anything frozen, out of a pile in the yard. It would be interesting to map the different scenarios I’ve played out, over 40 years of burning trees parts. In the same way we catalog our beloved pets over the decades, I think I could do the same with wood stoves, and log loads. I could also do a ground-breaking analysis, I feel, of the characters of those who have supplied me with combustible materials. They are a motley bunch. Ranging somewhere between saints, and sinners, on an ever-moving scale, I have loved them and not-loved them, with equal ferocity. A few were even related to me, and a few tried hard to win my affections. But mostly, they are a proud subset of Vermonters, overdue a kind word, or a better paycheck, whichever way you look at it. Some really know how to stack, with precision. I have an imprint in my mind, of how to bring wood inside, and under cover, fast, thanks to one in particular. He also double crossed me, but I have to give him a pass. Overall, his impact was positive, until it wasn’t. With others, its been as simple as “dump-and-go”.You never see them! I think these ones, are fairy folk. As for log length deliveries, don’t get me started. That is a can of worms. However, if you can manage to run an outdoor boiler, this is the way to go. Just be mindful, of what you’re getting yourself into. Don’t get divorced in the middle of a delivery, especially if you can’t run a chain saw. I know, I know. The wood can be great, and still burn too fast. It can be easy to handle but, not be right for your stove. Sometimes you’re thankful for all the “kindling”, and sometimes, it just a total mess you have to clean up out of your driveway, or drive over, where it fell, all winter. I’d say, you’re at an advantage if you like to stack it. In the sense that, you are a Zen master of repetitious monotony. Give me liberty, or give me a sturdy wagon, sled or wheel barrow. I will get it done. Thanks to Billy, John, Randy, Mark, Nick, Ethan, and a few nameless log truck drivers. Happy Holidays! xo”
