I have been chopping wood. Debbie bought me an ax. It is very calming. I find myself talking to the logs as I place them on the chopping stump. They are my comrades, they keep us warm when the nights are cold. Some go easy, one swing. Others are tough and need quite a beating before they split. So far only one log has been tougher than me and my mighty ax. I swung and I swung. Striking it over and over. The log stared back at me, not quite dead enough, it mocked me. Once I struck it so hard and so true the head of my ax sank a third of the way into the log. The log took hold of the head of the ax at this point and would not let go. Like a heavy weight fighter hugging his opponent to get a short rest. I was determined. I swung the ax with the log hanging on. Pile driver after pile drive. Bang, boom, pow, smash down onto the chopping stump. Over and over I brought it down. The ax sunk only a tiny bit more into the stubborn log. After a long battle I decided to free the ax from the log to try swinging at it from another angle. This proved to be a chore unto itself. I finally had to get a hatchet to chop the ax out of the log. By this time I am certain the log felt it had beaten me. I tossed it aside and finished chopping the rest of the current batch. Later that night, after having a roaring fire going, I went back to that tough old log and brought it inside. Without any space to spare I pushed it in its entirety into the small opening of the wood burning stove. It may have won the first round but now it has been reduced to ashes. Some of the logs seem ready and willing to help and some are defiant rebels; I will burn them all.

It took a while to get used to starting fires without the help of natural gas. I have gotten quite proficient if I do say so myself.