Flannel and Wood Smoke

A few weeks ago, we had a record early ice storm.  Limbs were down everywhere, little things but also some bigger than the truck.  A lot of it was as fat as my leg so this was potential firewood.  Jack, Bell, and I spent a weekend getting the yard cleaned up.  Jack ran the chain saw, and Bell and I drug off the debris.  We worked for two solid days and only got half the yard finished.  By that time, it was clear that I had overdone it with my shoulder even though I was trying to mostly use my other arm.  I got banished to the house for the remaining days.  Jack has since then burned several of the brush piles, with me standing like a kid at the side poking it. We have two more to go.  He also cleared out the debris under the trees between us and the lake, but we still have work at the old house and in the pasture between the houses. Let me be clear. This ice storm was not fun.  We were without power for two weeks.  It destroyed some of our trees.  The whole thing created a tremendous amount of work and stress and still is causing issues. However, I had fun working outside with Jack.  Now that I am at school, I don’t get to do things with him as much as I did during the summer when we worked together at the lake. I also felt a bit like the Wilson girl I remember.  This was just like a fall or winter trip to Bluejacket. I felt young.  I felt like Grandpa’s girl again.

For most of my life, going to my grandparents during holidays  meant picking pecans, shelling pecans, butchering a steer or hog, and cutting fire wood.  If the trip involved pecans or fire wood, it almost certainly involved fire.  As we would gather pecans, we would also clear out fallen limbs beneath the trees and burn them off.  Wood cutting days were similar.  The men would sometimes fell a tree or cut up one that had fallen on its own.  Adults ran the saws and kids helped with the wood splitter and loading the wood in the truck. The little guy who couldn’t pick up heavy things might get to sit on the tractor and work the hydraulic levers for the splitter.   There were lots of small chunks too little for the wood stove that would go in a bonfire.  Sometimes an adult planned ahead and brought marshmallows for the kids. If we were working at the house, there was surely a cup of coffee near by for Grandpa.  He would drink a little coffee and poke at the fire. Dale Wilson loved a good fire, whether it was under a tree on the creek bank or in his wood stove.  I am sure it was all technically work and the adults were probably worn out, but as kids, it was a fun day out, even if it was biting cold and we were bundled up to our eye brows.  Even as an adult, when I went up with Jack for a weekend, we would often do wood.  By then Grandpa definitely needed the help keeping that wood pile close to the house and full.

This morning I made a rare second cup of coffee and am out enjoying the sunshine on the porch.  There’s no fire, but I’d build one if the chiminea weren’t wet. I wore Grandpa’s big flannel jacket to ward off the morning chill.   Grandma gave it to me after he was gone because I had bought it for him.  I only wear it when I am being lazy because it’s too big to actually work in.  It’s just right, though, for a morning pause.  I can just see Grandpa wearing it, with a cup of coffee in his hand sitting in front of the wood stove.   I’ve been Jack’s girl forever now, but with a little coffee, flannel, and wood smoke . . . Then I’m Grandpa’s girl.