More sticks

Wait without thought, for you are not ready for thought: So the darkness shall be the light, and the stillness the dancing.

A sunny day that starts slowly. Claire heads off and Angus fries black pudding eggs and pancakes.

I stack another couple of log layers. It’s physical meditation - the chaos of a pile, seemingly structuring itself into a more pleasing form. Not only does it look nicer, you can fit more logs in and they dry better (remember to leave an air gap between each layer).

Much of what’s left in this bin is small endcuts and sticks. Not to worry, I have another two mega bins to fill, as well as a load of long trunks that still need sawed and split.

I take Angus into town and help him dismantle his bed. He burns me a CD of The League Of Gentlemen and other assorted tunes.