Posted by: Shanna Germain | 03/28/2010

Pg. 213: Snap, Crackle, Pop

It’s cold and wet here in the Oregon Wilds. The house is beautiful because it’s full of tile and windows, but that definitely makes for cold days. Cutting kindling is a morning ritual I’ve come to love. The heft of the hand-made axe, the solid snap into the wood, the crack of pieces splitting.


My starter-fire stance. Yeah, I’m sure it’s an odd one — I never took Boy Scouts and I didn’t last past the first meeting in Brownies (too much sitting and too many rules, as I remember), so it’s a fire-building plan of my own origin. Sometimes it works. Often, it doesn’t.


The result, when the fire does work and the sun pops out to shine through the trees for a few minutes. It’s a good place to be, a good place to get warm, a good place to write. I’ll miss it when I leave.


Far and fast, s.


“As soon go kindle fire with snow, as seek to quench the fire of love with words.” ~William Shakespeare


  1. “I never took Boy Scouts”

    (bet you just didn’t know he was a boy scout).

    I love a good fire and I think you built a nice one there!!

  2. Almost forgot…….. I was always told that you weren’t a boy scout until you ate a brownie. All those merit badges and walking little old ladies across the street didn’t mean a thing.

    I apologize in advance for my indiscretions,which are many.

    • Hahaha, Dean. I had to read it twice, and then I just died laughing. OMG> Too funny. Actually, I -did- take a Boy Scout leader. Does that count? šŸ˜›

  3. What a wonderful set of images! There’s something I instantly connected with though I think I’ve only shared this experience in my imagination.

    My father-in-law has a house heated by a wood stove. We’ve been trying to get him to upgrade (he’s getting too old to chop wood) to something modern, but he insists this is the only way he wants to get through Minnesota winters.

    Perhaps there is a method to his madness?

    • Oh, cool, David, thanks! Yes, there’s something incredible about fires. And about dads too. Heh. I learned how to split wood from watching my dad — although every time I do it, I also think about the time he got glass in his eye (I was young, and may not remember clearly, but I think he was splitting wood and something flew back and broke his glasses? He’ll probably correct me, though, since my memory is faulty!)

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