The day off.

I'm about to head south to the little town I grew up in. My dad knows of some trees we can cut up that have been pushed over by pine loggers. They're oaks and maples, mostly. Hopefully, I'll come home this evening with enough wood to last the rest of the winter. And if not, I've got two trees in the backyard in my sights.

It's 21 degrees. 100 days til spring. Or so.

4:23pm - I didn't get as much wood as I had hoped. Someone else has already been picking through the piles. We got there too late. But the drive was nice.







Just an hour and 15 minutes south of me, the landscape is flat and covered with pine trees. The Sandhills of South Carolina.



The dirt road I grew up on.



I got about 2 weeks worth of wood. I guess I'll be taking out a couple elms in the back. No one cares about them. And they should burn okay. Wish I had a red oak back there like last year. It's 48 degrees. Balmy.