Gathering Firewood

I don't spend a lot of time watching video clips on the internet or any site that doesn't specifically have information I am needing at the moment. Usually that means what I am looking for is work related, animal related, or I'm seeking the occasional recipe that I will attempt (attempt !) to make.

I am convinced, however, that mine and Gunnar's antics this morning would have made a fairly decent YouTube video that might have gotten a few hits on the internet. We wouldn't have been able to submit this video to "America's Funniest Home Videos" because that is, after all, a family show and I'm pretty sure there were a few choice, small words that echoed through the woods this morning that wouldn't have won us the $10,000 prize for funniest video--if you know what I mean. You know, words like "oopsy daisy" and such.

I wish I had even one decent picture of this event, but only Gunnar and I were awake, The Littles were in a dog food coma in their little beds in the kitchen, and the patriarch (Mr. H) was asleep in his chamber. As always, he's never around when I pull crazy--or just stupid--stunts.

What took place occurred almost two hours ago now, so I think enough time has passed in order for the angry frustration to have washed over me and left, being replaced with the humor which is intended. Because, when White Husky and I returned from the woods I was in pain from turning and twisting every which direction, and I was exhausted. These events seem to always take place before breakfast (or way too soon after a meal), and with no coffee in my system, thus making every moment excruciating.

Mr. H and I still have a few tiny piles of firewood left in our woods from when Farmer Ron helped us chop down a couple of dead trees. Our firewood store alongside the barn is extremely low and so I thought I'd be resourceful, Laura Ingalls Wilder-style, and take my big white sidekick, and my trusty orange sled, up into the woods to retrieve firewood.

I'm not stupid: I knew taking Gunnar with me would in effect render the left arm and hand completely useless in gathering firewood and pulling the sled. He is all over the place attached to his harness and 20-foot lunge line and there were so many animal tracks to put his nose in and deer in the woods to look at. Why don't they run when they see us? Idiots.

Halfway up the path to the woods I asked Gunnar (told him) to stop and wait--which he can do, by the way.  I clumsily tied the two ropes attached to the sled around my body, slipping one side through an overall strap, otherwise it would just slide down my body wrapping my ankles together and causing a fatal injury--similar to the one you'd get if you were in the restroom, pants around ankles, and had to run out of a burning building.

We made it up to the top of the path and I laid the sled next to a small pile of firewood, cut last September. Luckily, this part of the path was level as opposed to the incline we had just walked up; I knew this would make going down with the sled--and white Husky--very interesting. And it did.

While I was prying firewood chunks loose, as everything is iced together right now, Gunnar wrapped himself around small trees sniffing for little animals he could prey on. Did I mention the ground is covered in a hard-packed snow/icy mix right now? Luckily, there are patches at the bottom of the path that expose significant amounts of grass: I knew I wouldn't slide all the way to the road and into the culvert, as the soft brown grass and muddy areas would break my fall.

Finally I loaded the sled full and untangled Gunnar and my left arm, did a farm-girl pirouette to bring him around the the correct side of me, and wrapped my right hand in the sled's ropes, praying that the sled wouldn't pull us down the hill too fast.

The White Husky--not looking very white or Husky-like
at the moment.

This was excruciating, as the sled was heavily loaded down, the ropes were cutting into my hand even through my winter gloves, and Gunnar was pulling my left one, trying to tangle himself in branches and rusty barbed wire.  There is nothing about this scenario that would make my life insurance company keep me signed up. In fact, if they read this, my rates will probably make a sharp increase!

Gunnar and I are safely, yet painfully, halfway down the path when we get to the decline I was afraid of. There's no way to keep the sled going straight, and frankly, there's no way to keep Gunnar going straight either. G-man darted to the right which made my left arm cross over the width of the sled, causing me to lose balance a bit on slippery ground. I instinctually grabbed for his leash with my right hand as well, which made the sled break free, find an icy truck tire path made by The Hunters last week, and speedily made its way down the path. Gunnar looked at the sled racing toward the gate/metal bar across the path at the bottom; then he looked at me. He looked at me as if to say, "Did we plan on doing that?"

Gunnar watching the orange sled speed away with our firewood.

I was just thankful I hadn't fallen, or lost my footing, or punctured a lung yet. We watched the bright orange sled racing toward the house. I was laughing hysterically, and just hoping that the sled wouldn't crash and dump all of its cargo.  It didn't, and when Gunnar and I finally caught up to the sled, we placed the wood back on the sled in an orderely fashion and dragged it down toward the barn, now only on grass and gravel. Not surprisingly, without ice and snow, that sled was a bugger to pull.  Towards the last 100 feet of this journey Gunnar was pulling me, and I was pulling the sled. I got within 50 feet of the barn, said, "Forget this!" (or something similar), and the white Husky and I kept heading toward the barn, where his breakfast was waiting.