Day 268

The woodpile Tim and I packed today. 

On Thursday, Matt, our friendly woodman, who resembles Mark Wahlberg, delivered our first cord of wood for the winter.  He also sawed up two fallen trees and, just like that, felled two dead trees that he noticed and sawed them up too, a whole extra cord of wood for us!

A good woodpile gives you a great sense of achievement !  There is an art to it, and this is the first year that we didn't have any collapses, so we must be becoming New Englanders!  It is a communal effort, and when the woodpile extended behind the little old woodpile of what remains from last year, it made sense for one person to stand behind the pile and pack, so Tim threw me logs which I then stacked.  I only crushed my thumb once, with a particularly heavy oak piece. 

Afterwards we surveyed our work proudly, and while we were eating a late lunch I felt so happy and grateful that I am still able to do this heavy work, fairly easily, with my big hands for managing large chunks of wood, my good strong legs which had run 2.3 km in 17 minutes prior to the packing, and my limber body for bending and lifting, bending and lifting.

A pastel selfie for tonight, which is what the photographers call it.