Frozen logs and fiery determination

there's no one happier than a Webber with a woodpile

I knew he was there.

I heard him all afternoon.

The sounds of hydraulics carried over the hill and through the trees.

I was off in the back, cleaning up damage from Finona that was on top of damage from Dorian.

One of the more fun aspects of having land in a hurricane prone area is naming firewood and lumber after the storms that felled the trees.

Or.

Partially felled them as the case may be.

I spent the day with the saw and the come-along untangling a nest of massive trunks at the top of the hill behind my folks place.

My uncle?

From the sounds of things he was working the wood splitter - likely getting firewood ready for the campers this summer.

As it happened, I didn’t know it was him, but I was pretty sure I could identify where and what that sound was. Filling in ‘uncle’ was the only logical conclusion.

I’m sure was able to do the same with me.

So there we worked all afternoon. Though not working together, the sound of the splitter let me know that I wasn’t alone.

It’s a funny thing.

When I’m in the woods all by myself behind my nanny’s house, I never feel alone at all. And when I feel lonely? I just think of that place and any drip of loneliness dries right up.

As the sun was heavily threatening sunset, I hauled out the last logs of the day and put the tools away. With a truck bed loaded with years dried firewood, I made to leave.

Once I passed through the campground gate I saw him. I was right. It was my uncle. The bed of his pickup was stacked four feet above the roof of the cab with freshly split softwood.

He looked as pleased as a cat with a canary in his mouth.

There’s no one on this earth happier than a Webber with a woodpile and my uncle was glowing.

I got this all done today. I should have stopped an hour ago so I wasn’t piling wood in the dark but I really wanted to have this finished today.

Lies!

Piling wood in the dark on an icy night is about the best thing in the world. You’re stacking wood in the dark because you got going on that wood splitter and just couldn’t help yourself. You just couldn’t stop.

I didn’t actually say that on account of I’d hate to call my uncle a liar.

Instead?

We talked about important things like splitting wood.

Three hundred times you hit that stump Jimmy?

Oh yes - and the maul bounced like a lacrosse ball off the face of it for the first 296.

He just smiled and shook his head. My uncle knows about splitting wood.

Wait another couple of days. Once we get that deep frost on Tuesday, that log will split right open.

That’s the danger in being frozen I guess. Things held tight that don’t want to move are easily shattered by a man with a five pound maul.

We all freeze up at one time or another in our lives.

Some prefer to let things thaw out gradually.

Me?

I’ve always preferred smashing them apart.

One way or another, change is coming.

And when it does?

I want to be the one swinging the axe.