Chopped wood is a reminder of summer and fall for me. We always stocked up before the snowfall, although occasionally we would have to make a trip out in the snow to cut some.
I miss this. I miss hard labor with my family that was always slowed down due to conversations. We had no agenda, as long as we were finished by time the sun went down. Afterward, we always ate from a big pot of soup or stew. And when we delivered it to Grandpa’s he would try to push more food on us.
Even if it was physically demanding, I still felt proud afterward. I was rarely the same variety of proud after finishing work on a computer in college. It’s hard to describe how they are different, but they are. Or, at least, for me they are.
(Source: lindkvist, via books-cats-coffee)