The Wood Pile

“Every man looks upon his woodpile with a kind of affection” Thoreau wrote in Walden. I remember this as my maul separates a log in half, then quarters. Splitting wood for the fireplaces is something I have always enjoyed. It satisfies my need for physical activity, especially in the dead of winter. It’s a stress reliever for me as well (something about sailing a maul through a log while imagining settling an argument with someone feels.. well.. therapeutic). And it’s been said a hundred ways, but he who heats with wood is twice warmed. I realize this as I release another button from my flannel coat, even as the north wind creates a tornado of red and gold leaves that pirouettes around the corner of the shed, and then releases in all directions. I wipe my forehead with my blue handkerchief, place my big hat back on my head and admire my results.
A long cord of split wood is a comforting thing. Like egg money in a Mason jar. You feel prepared a little for whatever might be around the corner. I gather an armload and enjoy the earthy scent from the wood. I duck my head some and walk against the cool and misty wind back to the house.. Time to put a match to my work, grab my coffee cup and rest a bit in front of a cracklin fire.
Yes, twice warmed. And doubly satisfied.

Nov/3 2011