During our Easter celebrations..
the lil' farm hand pointed out that there could be an "H" almost if the tree was more straight across.
or...it could be almost an "N".
When the grands notice trees are not standing straight anymore it is time to take action.
On Easter Monday afternoon we headed out to the field and commenced the removal of dead wood.
I've watched him work enough over the last 34 years to know he is good at this sort of stuff.
I then started to think about the years he used to go out cutting firewood with his Dad.
His Dad worked in an excavating pit and before a section of land was cleared to excavate...
his Dad would hurry ahead and cut down trees during the weekends.
My beloved of course was conscripted and would come home with stories that in our home anyways became legends of the wood cutting episodes.
It was the white birch that was the wood of choice and so Dad would go ahead through the brush ...
chainsaw in hand and buzz down the trees and cut them into four foot logs.
The son's job was to get those logs through the ditches and swampy parts back to the truck.
It all sounded so far fetched...
so one time I went along to "help".
We were yet at that point empty nesters (first go around)...
and we had nothing but time on our hands on days off so it seemed like an adventure.
and hauled and then back at the truck they together split the wood.
Split wood was my size and I used my decorative skills to get as much wood in the back of the truck as possible.
I have no idea how many times this exercise was repeated but I do know that for years we used that wood to heat our home in winter and it was my job to keep the home fires burning during the day.
I was good at that job.
What I wasn't quite so good at was the cleaning of the ashes.
On one Saturday morning I decided to expedite the process.
I pulled the vacuum out of the closet and sucked up the ashes and was amazed at how much quicker the job was.
Not wanting to keep smokey smelling ashes in the vacuum cleaner bag..
I set the bag onto a "stump" that was sitting on our patio.
Why a stump was there...
I can't quite recall.
Cheap chairs maybe?
The next morning...
I went to take out garbage and my eyes fell to the charred remains of the stump.
The bag had smoldered and the stump had smoldered and it was nothing short of a miracle that the house did not burn down.
When we were first married...
provincial campgrounds had huge dump loads of firewood that was free with the cost of the campsite.
Like most things...
this has changed as well.
we bring our own.
Wow...that was two stories and when I started the post I didn't even know I would tell you one.
all for now..