Cutting Firewood on a Fall Day

 

The day started cold and clear in central Texas.  A calm day with a deep blue sky and fall crispy in the air.  The kind of day that makes the calves run and play:  the kind of day that is living in the country at its best.  Cutting firewood with a lifelong friend, bending the back, swinging the axe, good conversation, laughter, heavy wood, and the feel and sound of the wood cracking at the strike of the axe.  Ah, what a great axe.  It has been in the shed, silent and still, for over a year, but today it is the star performer, an object of praise and appreciation. 

There was no stopping the work. This day, like the relentlessly fading daylight, just won’t last.  As dusk settles, quietly bringing crisp fall air, only a pile of lifeless wood and a settled place inside ourselves is left to commemorate this day.  It was a good day; indescribably good, without a good reason for it being so.  Without a known reason, reflection upon the day brings a smile, and the wood cut that day that will later warm the body,  today, has warmed our hearts.

 

 

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