When I carry and stack firewood, I do so in time with what my body now allows. Ten minutes or so of stacking, and ten-twenty minutes of sitting on the porch. Rinse and repeat till the work is done or I've done all I can, whichever comes first.
This is the one of the times I'll now allow myself to enjoy one of my precious cigars (Thank You Marty!). It's a few moments pleasure and reward that helps keep me motivated.
Today I finished stacking the last firewood delivery and ordered the next for Friday. Just in time for the really cold weather to roll in. Meanwhile, there is three-four weeks of wood stacked on the porch and next to it. This is the 'Crap Weather' or 'I don't feel like carrying wood very far' stock. It's also an assurance our home will be warm for that long, no matter what nature dumps on our heads.
The older I get, the more I appreciate this simple luxury. A warm home. It's a little thing, until one doesn't have it. Sometimes I relax on the chilly front porch with pipe and book, and look forward to walking in our door and feeling that warmth enfold me.
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