Wood Piles

  

               Mark and I brought in a load of wood this morning. He has a work friend who took down a couple of dead trees, had the wood split, and sells it for a donation to the food bank.  Everyone wins. This morning, we drove over, loaded up  the Ark with nice dry wood—some of it a funky shape—and came home to move it into the basement.

                Moving wood is one of the projects we do well together. We are not like his parents, who are perfectly in tune after fifty years of house projects. Mark wants more snacks, requires more specialized equipment, and needs to think the entire effort through before he begins. I tend to plunge in, forget the gloves, and get splinters.  Sometimes, one of us will be the official Lead on the Project (yes, he is such a software engineer) but usually we work alone, calling for help occasionally. Wood does not work that way, if you want it out of the car or driveway so that the space can be usable again.

                Mark works the lower station; I take the surface. Before we begin, I consider the existing piles and the order I am always striving for, firewood split from stove wood split from kindling wood. I move things around, including a storm window or two.  He finds our gloves, fills a water bottle, and considers the space I have cleared. We discuss the stacking plan. Then it begins. I gather a pile of wood, walk over to the basement window, and call “Ready?” down. “Yes,” he calls back, and I drop the wood, piece by piece, into the window well. Occasionally, one bounces into the cellar—Mark stands back. He did mutter about needing his bike helmet, but it never got that bad. Sometimes he yells “NO!” because his hand is in the window well. I wait above. When I am done dropping wood, I call “done” and held back for the next load.  He stacks the pieces while I gather the next load. Back and forth, back and forth we move, working our way down the pile. There is a rhythm and a peace to the project, which is always done faster than I think it will be.

                There is a comfort to this late fall work, bringing in what we need for the winter. We have gathered the potatoes and onions, squash and dried fruit. We have canned tomatoes and jam. We have ordered dried beans, flour, what, and oatmeal. The wood for winter fires is in. The benches, table, and chairs from outside are in. The storm windows are up; the chicken coop is resting on an empty garden bed. Most of the compost work is done.  In the next few days, as the leaves fall and are swept into the street, we will pile them onto the cleaned out gardens. And then we will read, and rest, and take long walks in the damp winter world, waiting for the season to begin again with seed catalogs.