inspired by hardwood logs

We found our way to Witherslack Woods today to buy six bags of seasoned logs from their woodyard. It was a crisp, cold afternoon and the musky smell of seasoned timber reminded me of our family home in Sussex. Our Dad sawed and split all the wood for our two open fires and we sometimes helped wheel it up the garden and load it into the loggia. I can hear the logs scraping against the barrow and the tuneful clink of logs as we piled them high. 'That should last us a month' Dad would say, as he hung up his tough leather jacket.

We may have copped out of the hard work, but we can still enjoy the wonderful smell as we burn the logs on our new wood burning stove.