Papa Rich has been sawing away in the ash grove, taking down trees hit by the emerald ash borer, and cutting them into firewood for the farmhouse. Even though he doesn’t live here anymore, he still cuts the majority of our wood. He just loves it, and we’re grateful, not only for the wood, but for these afternoons we get to spend together. The leaves crunch beneath our feet, the sun shines on our faces, and we work in unity at an age old family task. The birds whistle, the dogs hunt, I thank the trees and feel connected to the rhythms all around me.



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