The logs in this picture are rejects from last year’s wood supply. When I was bemoaning all the things I’ve not gotten around to doing yet, Joe reminded me that I was not alone. He gave the example of the wood he’s not gotten ready. It’s true. Next year’s firewood is still “on the hoof.”
The first time I lived with a wood stove, I soon realized that it was almost an animate being that that lived in the corner of the house. It demanded food, cleaning, tending, and attention. I enjoyed its company, and often sat close by its side when it was cold. I loved its efficient work and I hated its incessant demands. I learned to anticipate its desires and I cared for its sicknesses. As with any intimate relationship, my feelings were complicated.
My housemate felt that we should cut our own wood as there was plenty out back. At first, I subscribed wholeheartedly to this theory. “Do wood on Sunday morning?” my housemate would ask. I would agree, and be ready. Then the dogs would need walking and then breakfast would have to be made and then coffee had to be drunk and, then … assuming it hadn’t gotten too hot by then … in early afternoon we would head out to the woods with the chainsaw, which then refused to start for an hour. There is a lot of truth to the concept that pull-cords for two-stroke engines are man’s revenge on womankind.
Eventually, I decided that this was ridiculous. I was a working woman. Working women bought their heat. I would stack, I would carry and I would stoke. But no more cutting. Over my housemate’s strenuous objections I found people who would deliver truckfuls of the wonderful stuff. No one who is not intimate with a creature like Stove can quite understand the physical pleasure that a plentiful pile of firewood provokes. It makes you warm and secure and contented.
One of the tricks of living with other people is figuring out who does what. Generally, whoever feels most strongly about something ends up doing it. In this house I do the dishes. I clean the floors and the windows. I keep things straight and banish the clutter. I do laundry. I cook dinner. I tend the vegetable garden. I plant flowers. I yank the weeds. However, I do not clean the boys’ bathroom. I do not mow. I do not take care of chickens. I do not cut wood, carry in wood or make fires. In the dead of winter I might poke in a log or two. But, if no one has procured or brought in wood, well, I’ll turn on the electric heat. As working woman, I can buy electric heat too.
I like the muted tones in this one. And I have a challenge for you for the coming week. I looked through your project, and although you have some shots of people in it, I think this is an area that could get a little boost. However, I don't know how comfortable you are with photographing people so here is a task that gives you an option to either include people or not: I want you to create an image that says "Excitement!" - if possible, with people, but if that would be not possible, to create the feeling of excitement with any other possible means. Have fun! I hope you will enjoy the challenge. Looking forward to hear from you on my task for the week.
Very nice photo. I love the story. I babysit my grand daughter,and they heat with a wood burner. So I'm poking and stoking. I don't have to take out the ashes or anything like that. But I do appreciate the warmth and the glow of the fire.
