The Rituals of Cold Weather…

…will not kick in for real until the ground is hard as granite, but even now with no snow and relatively warm temperatures*, the days begin with the morning ritual of crumpled newspaper, kindling, and the sizzle of the sulfur-strike.  Woodshed full as it has ever been since our move here, thanks to the help of friends and neighbors.  Each time I retrieve an armful I conduct a complicated three-dimensional calculus in which I mentally drape calendar pages over the remaining stack and calculate the cubic chances of making it clear through to those last few fires in early June…

*That said, this morning’s wind is a scour salted with pellets of sneet.


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