More wood

The stack of wood in the garden shed is growing smaller and smaller. Soon there will be bare ground. Of course, we could stop using it to heat the house, and live in temperatures of 11 degrees C. When you've been outside in 6 degrees C (which really feels like about 2 degrees C because of the wind chill and/or humidity), 11 degrees C feels quite balmy. And it doesn't even feel that bad first thing in the morning, when you've got your down parka and beanie on.

We glance at each other, then my husband is gone. I hear the chainsaw working busily in the background. It screeches while cutting through wood, then rumbles again when idle, but it never stops. When it does, the tractor rocks up at the garden shed, fully loaded with perfect slices of hardwood. Then the sound of splitting resounds like a lazy woodpecker.

"Come Sabina, lets go for a walk to see which paddock has been stripped of its fallen branches."