As I repeatedly carry logs the 24 steps from the downed tree to the wagon, I imagine carrying split wood the 32 steps from the wood shed to the house in winter.
I calculate how many trips equals one heating day. That's a tricky calculation. To heat a house in November, I only need four armloads of wood. In January, the number jumps to eight.
I notice the path that my numerous log-carrying trips make in the woods. It's a winding path that curves around trees and briar bushes. By day's end, the leaves are flattened and it is well-worn.
I listen to the roar of the chainsaw and wonder if the squirrels, deer, raccoons and other wildlife are disturbed by the rumble. Do they find my whistling equally disturbing?
I think how easily poison ivy oils can attach to the skin, even though I wear jeans, long-sleeved shirt, hat and gloves.
As I feel the sun, and listen to the leaves, and breathe in the fall air, and feel the sweat trickle down my back, I am thankful for the time to work and wonder.