Field log #1

This summer
While we were at the Rio Grande
in Pilar

fishing …

… and playing with -
and in – the river,

I met a creature who reminded me it was almost time to get firewood for the winter:

So I purchased my permits for 4 half-cords of dead-and-down firewood
(from the BLM),

& loaded my daughter, our dog, the borrowed saw (trading homemade pies for its use), and plenty of fuel for all of us
into the truck
(photo removed) (which is another of the critters we have heard called a ROAT),

And headed for the hills,

with nearly the same view as seen in Off the Map –
the Sangre de Christo mountains from across the Rio Grande from the village of San Cristobal (or so).

Cutting firewood is strenuous physical work. I am alive, pulse strong, veins visible in strong hands and arms.

I am aware of the dangers: inattention to the saw leads to cuts and maybe, someday, bad cuts; trees can fall slightly off the path I planned and injure; branches twist and spring free as they are separated from the trunks, scratching and clawing as they do.

But its fun and rewarding and in the end, we are all happy (beer helps) …

With good-sized loads of wood ( I think I could have stacked more up there but was overruled by the sensible, temperate majority).(photo removed). The trip home takes over an hour on the rutted dirt roads. But the views are phenomenal and I can enjoy them while I let Santana drive (well, steer) out to the highway.

My woodpile today may seem pretty impressive. I have a good 4 cords.

But I need more

Because my house is pretty roomy

And I get cold easily
So I keep a fire going
Most of the winter
Starting now
Today:

Its an annual ritual
Invigorating
to heat only with wood we gather ourselves.

Friends and family head for the hills in the summer and fall
to groom the hills of dead wood, felling the trees, piling unwanted branches,
pulling even the stumps (with chains) to burn.
Hauling it all home to for the comfort of live heat all winter,
pushing back against the inhuman cold of long brittle nights,
and into the windy spring of the north.

Its an annual rite
Affirmation
that we still are here
harvesting from the land
leaving a sign that says
“this area cleared of dead trees
means we are still here
to take care of our home.”

Our pride in accomplishment, the satisfaction of caring,
Is remembered in the warmth all winter

and more immediately
in the reminders
on our bodies,
proof of purchase,
if you will

and a small price to pay
for a satisfying job well done.