I’d rather regret the things I’ve done than regret the things I haven’t done.
Lucille Ball
Before breakfast, before the sunrise, before I had time to think about what it was I was about to do. I put on my gear, snow boots, overalls, bandana, wool hat, earbuds, goggles, chainsaw, wheelbarrow steel bowls and I headed out to the woodpile. I dropped the bowls by the door, axes by the chopping block, then down the driveway in deep snow, and a snowstorm.
I surveyed the situation. Logs hidden by deep snow, check. I planned my angle of attack, started the chainsaw and started to cut. I kept cutting until I had to stop. My arms and legs were rubber. I shut off the saw and sorted the logs. The big nasty logs I piled. I knew I would be back for them later and there was still a lot of snow to fall. Four storms to hit each day for the next three.
I loaded the wheelbarrow with small to medium-sized logs, took a quick break in the snow, snapped some pics and pushed them up the driveway. I noticed the sun peaked out for a moment as I pushed. The snow seemed a lot deeper with the heavy wheelbarrow on the trip to the chopping block.
I arrived at the block, grabbed the bowls and went out to fill them with snow for melt. I did that, so I could rest not because there were thirsty cats just inside the door. I got those on the woodstove and back out to chop. There was not going to be a later because I was soaked in sweat getting this far.
It would take a few hours to dry my clothes.
I chopped and every piece seemed more difficult than the previous one. I kept chopping until there were only two logs left. I told myself that they would be there in case of a snow too deep emergency. The truth was I was exhausted and could barely breathe. I pushed the load into the house. Grabbed my kettle, put it on the woodstove, peeled off my wet clothes and slowly walked up my steps. I collapsed on the bed and nearly fell asleep. I took note of the time it was before ten am.
When I got up, I used muscles too sore to walk, too sore to get the kettle off the woodstove, too sore to give the cats what water was melted, too sore to take the now hot kettle to the kitchen to make coffee. You already know I did all those things anyway because they needed doing.
It is now 11:29 AM I just emptied the wheelbarrow so that the snow could melt off the wood I had processed earlier. The sun is out now, solar panels are converting electricity at least enough, so I could type this. Do I regret my lifestyle? No way. Do I regret the injuries? Absolutely. Life would be a lot easier without them, but what would the fun be in that?
I had to go out and gather wood to cover me through the storms. That load is under cover.
All thats left of that pile
Have another helping
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