Our Passionate Work

The woodstove in our living room is quietly and increasingly beocming a part of the daily routine.  In spite of the warm afternoons of the past week, the winter cold is on its way.  This summer and fall, I've spared what moments I can in order to split and stack a supply of wood that rests sheltered in the barn.  I don't yet have a good sense of how much wood we can burn in one winter.  N can hardly wait to handle the splitting maul and the axe that I use to make kindling.

The essence of a good life involves sitting still long enough to hear the wind, watching the light patterns move slowly along the wall, on a cold morning in late fall.  It also involves many days when this is not possible.

Those whom we love, we despise because of our own weaknesses that are revealed.  To love fully is the ability to accept the seasonal, cyclical patterns that confront and obstacle our moments together.  The sustenance of commitment is revealed in the callused hand that works unseen.  Its touch upon soft skin an undeniable surety, our passionate work.