Wood

This beautifully split chêne (French for oak), cut into 50cm lengths, is what will keep us warm until we migrate south mid-November. Two stères (cubic meters) of oak, dried for a minimum of two years, was delivered during our absence. Normally it would just be dumped in the path, but because it was raining, the wood man and my very obliging neighbour carried it in barrow loads round the back of the house and threw it into the wood store. Some folk just have goodness in their hearts. We have a Jotul, the Rolls Royce of wood-burning stoves, and it is warming my feet as I write, and filling the house with the sweet perfume of burning oak.