Fall foliage season has come, and almost gone. The flame-red maple leaves have left, with many other colors covering the ground (though still holding on to the trees in large numbers), and the nights are beginning to bring temperatures near or below freezing. We have already fired up the wood stove, and are harvesting wood from the property we keep intending to build a house on. And I am, for the first time in my life, wielding a chain saw and splitting hardwood.
It is satisfying to finish with a pile of firewood, though less so when I discover that it will only last a few days, and even less so when, by the end of the day, my wrists, knees, and back are crying for a good dose of ibuprofen, and I sleep until around nine in the morning because I'm so exhausted. I can't get away with that tomorrow, though; up at 5:15 a.m. to get ready for work.
Winter is on the way, and here we still are, in our drafty lakeside home, trying to figure out how we're going to stay warm. Potential buyers, like the foliage season, have come and almost gone, with none offering, and many worrying about the condition of the house, the size of the land, the size of the pond, and the tax bill.
The real estate people say that it is going to be better in the spring. For us that may be too little too late. I don't know. I am more encouraged by advice from by brother-in-law, Alan, who tells me that the best time to split wood is when the temperature stays below freezing. The wood gets dry and brittle, and splits easily, making you feel just like a lumber jack.
Right now I just feel like getting another pain pill.
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