firewood

by underswansea

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Last week had a morning of 5 degrees c. That’s chilly for July. We asked each other if the change had come early. You can feel it when the cool weather hits. We both agreed this wasn’t it. It heated back up. The sweat rolls, down my brow, between Lisa’s breasts, willow pants. The creeks are running low or dry. There is not much mud to asses the tracks; bear or elk.

We were up early and heading for a load of firewood. I’ve got an eye for snags and deadfalls. It’s an inventory kept rolling along the backroads.

It felt good on the mountain. The valley bottom is busy. Lisa and I filled the truck, using the old chain saw. It doesn’t run like it used to but neither do we. We both agreed! Yet we’re still efficient!

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