In the rhythm of rural life, each season brings its own set of tasks, its own rhythm and rituals. One such ritual, deeply woven into the fabric of our existence, is the art of preparing firewood—a process that begins in the heart of winter and stretches into the early hues of autumn.

The journey of our firewood starts with the felling of trees during the winter months, a time when their sap runs low, and the wood is primed for burning. The crisp air is filled with the sound of saws as we cut rounds from the fallen timber.

Splitting the wood is an act of precision. Our axes, faithful companions in this task, rise and fall, turning rounds into halves, then quarters. The wood begins to take the shape of the fuel that will warm our home in the months to come.

But nature has its own plans. Sometimes, as we're in the midst of splitting, a snowstorm sweeps in, turning our woodpile into a sculpture of white. We leave our axes on the splitting block, a silent promise to return, only to find, a day later, that our work has been blanketed under another layer of winter's craft.

As winter fades and the snow melts away, we stack the split wood in three neat rows on a line of pallets. This structure allows the air to circulate, helping the wood to dry evenly. From winter's end to the cusp of autumn, the woodpile stands under the open sky, each piece losing its moisture to the gentle sun and wind.

Finally, as autumn paints the world in shades of gold and crimson, we move the seasoned wood under a sheltering roof. Here, it will complete its drying, sheltered from the autumn rains and ready to offer its warmth when the cycle turns full circle, and winter's chill knocks once again on our door.