Our firewood, like the hay in the barn, is taking up less space than it did at the end of the summer. Both were stacked in neat piles, security that we have food for the sheep and donkeys and enough wood to keep us warm through the winter.
As I watch both of them dwindle each time I feed the animals or load up another cart full of wood to bring in the house, I remind myself that it’s March. The days are longer and warmer, even this weekend’s snow is melting to mud. We’re not using as much wood even as we did last month.
Still, I count the bales of hay in the barn. Because the grass stayed green longer this fall, I expect it to start growing earlier. But it may not. We have enough hay to get us through April. That should be just right.
Soon I’ll be stacking the leftover wood that’s outside the shed, into it. It will be well-seasoned for next winter and the first I use in the fall.
This endless ritual of stacking and unstacking only stops for a couple of months halfway through the summer. But it’s really a continuous cycle with a lull, one that I can depend on like doing laundry or washing dishes.
Although I prefer hay and wood to laundry and dishes.
