A Winter's Tale . . .

Fall. Best time of the year. Crisp and cool, logs stacked around the house (see logs better on larger pic here) in eager anticipation of winter's snow twinkling in the moonlight, the friendly aroma of a fire blazing in the wood stove, the house warm and snug. Not a care in the world.

Dream on! It's not all idyllic bliss, there's a dark side. Until a couple of years ago, we had a house in the country. With a wood fire. Visitors thought it wonderful. Not for us, though . . .

Each Fall, a truck deposited a mighty heap of dirty logs onto the drive. From there, they were manhandled (usually by Jools) into a barrow and stacked around the garage walls. When winter came, they were trudged through the snow and dumped beside the stove ready to add to the blaze. Next morning the warm ash was raked into a bucket and dumped in the woods. Then weary legs staggered back to the woodpile . . .

Now we live in town, in a smaller house. With gas heating. Not a log in sight. Heaven (especially for Jools). . .