Firewood in Heaven: The Treasure of a Bounteous Woodpile

English: firewood Česky: palivové dříví
Image via Wikipedia

It will not have the thorns of the gnarly locust I cut up yesterday. Nor will it be wrapped inextricably with thick cords of poison ivy. Greenbrier with its briers will not clutch at my heavenly Carharrts and pine bows will not switch me in the face as I pass (or if they do, there will be no pain with cussing). I will not grunt and sweat under the load of the awkward, heavy load over unsure footing between the forest margin and my golden 4WD chariot.

No hidden rocks and stumps will lurk under the litter of last summer’s foliage. And I will not find even one tick on my pants. The celestial wood will be light as cardboard and will fall apart in perfect stove lengths before it goes into the fire. Er, maybe I’m thinking of the OTHER place with the fire. Never mind.

“Lay not up for yourselves treasures upon earth, where moth and rust doth corrupt, and where thieves break through and steal: But lay up for yourselves treasures in heaven, where neither moth nor rust doth corrupt, and where thieves do not break through nor steal: For where your treasure is, there will your heart be also.” –Matthew 6:19,20

Enhanced by Zemanta
Share this with your friends!

Fred First holds masters degrees in Vertebrate Zoology and physical therapy, and has been a biology teacher and physical therapist by profession. He moved to southwest Virginia in 1975 and to Floyd County in 1997. He maintains a daily photo-blog, broadcasts essays on the Roanoke NPR station, and contributes regular columns for the Floyd Press and Roanoke's Star Sentinel. His two non-fiction books, Slow Road Home and his recent What We Hold in Our Hands, celebrate the riches that we possess in our families and communities, our natural bounty, social capital and Appalachian cultures old and new. He has served on the Jacksonville Center Board of Directors and is newly active in the Sustain Floyd organization. He lives in northeastern Floyd County on the headwaters of the Roanoke River.

Articles: 3012


Leave a Reply

Your email address will not be published. Required fields are marked *

This site uses Akismet to reduce spam. Learn how your comment data is processed.

  1. You are just a mess but I love you anyway. Your sense if humor has blessed me so much through the years and helped me many times that were tough! Weird as you are I’m thankful for you!!!

  2. I’m not your mom but I’m thankful for you too. Although I don’t post very often, I read your stories every day. You brighten my world with your words and images. Thank you to both you and your mom for sharing your gifts with us.

  3. It would seem, even after that last snow, that your wood pile wouldn’t be as depleted as normal after such a non-winter winter.

    Besides…all the thorns and bumps just make the fire sweeter come the cold.

  4. Weird is good. Right?

    Oh forgot to mention that we have the RUST part of this mess covered too. It was once covered by paint. Long live the Dodge Dakota vintage 1994. It has served me well, and I in turn, have pretty well abused heck out of it.

  5. Your complaints about lurking stumps and rocks are sounding just like the rest of us old folks. When we were young, tripping and stumbling were not even noticed, much less cussed at. Keep getting plenty of exercise so you will be strong enough to right yourself after a stumble!