|Drew Swinging an Ax|
|The Growing Pile|
|Intense Wood Chopper Face|
|Good Swiss Form|
|Warm Dogs Are Happy Dogs|
I cannot swing an ax. If I did, someone would lose a foot, namely me. Not to be sexist, but I do believe wood chopping is a guy's thing. It takes powerful upper body strength, focused energy and a desire to whack something.
My son-in-law Drew and his friend, Samuel who moved to America from Switzerland, both have that manly desire to chop wood. I have a more womanly desire to have a warmth hearth which requires someone chopping. My husband loves to chop, too but he's happy to share the chore.
Ax overhead, arms taunt, the axes swing again and again. Wood is piling up and I feel like I'll be able to survive winter in the greatest of comfort. Already we have a nice stack on the south porch and the dogs have their downstairs beds by the fires. Although the huskies seek colder napping spots like on the tiles by the door.
Then the dogs all burst into barking. The wood choppers have returned to the house. Drew says something terrible has happened. Seeing no obvious wounds or fountains of blood, I'm not too worried. He goes on to laments that we are out of wood. It has all been chopped.
What now? Samuel has a splendid idea based on generations of Swiss woodsman flowing in his veins. Drink, he says. We all laugh. There's mulled cider on the stove and that satisfies the post-chopping activities by the warmth of the fire, of course.
Mulled Apple Cider: quart of apple juice with simmering spices of vanilla bean (halved and seeded), 3 bay leaves, 8 whole allspice, 12 peppercorns, rinds of 1 lemon).