Winter Morning

There is no need for alarm clocks here. We get up with the light, and at this time of the year this far north, that’s about 8:30 in the morning. It’s not easy to leave a warm nest of flannel sheets, feather comforter, and a warm, sleeping partner. But I’ve always been a ‘morning person,’ so I climb over Bob’s legs and land on the cold, wooden floor, check the indoor thermometer… 53 degrees, and stir up the embers in the woodstove. Putting on a pair of rubber boots that stand next to the door, I step outside to cut some kindling… the air is crisp, the snow frozen at 19 degrees. Woodcock Mountain is a ghostly presence in the pale morning light. I love these winter mornings. I enjoy the act of chopping wood, making a fire… is it some kind of primal instinct?

I stand quietly for a moment to listen to the silence. I can just make out the sound of a small flock of birds near the beaver pond. Then all I hear is the whack of an ax as I split wood, small pieces of kindling flying off in all directions. I gather them up and return to the big, old Pioneer Maid woodstove. Open dampers wide, place paper and birch bark in the firebox, then the kindling. Soon there is the snap and crackle of fire, and the clicking sound made by the heating stovepipe. I add more wood from the pile Bob has stacked near the stove, and place a teakettle where it will get the most heat.

Outside the window there is a sudden movement across the woodpile. Right on schedule… Dancer, the small red squirrel that lives in a white spruce tree next to the cabin, is looking for a handout. I open the door carefully, place some dried fruit and a filbert on a tree stump and watch as Dancer cautiously comes closer. Her defensive zone is becoming smaller each day. Last year there was another squirrel that we named Tucker. He would sit on the doorknob and look at us through the window. He took food from our fingers… quite a little character. We last saw Tucker in June – not sure what happened to him – squirrels only live for two to three years in the wild, and are prey for predators such as owls, fishers, and martens. So we are glad to have this new squirrel neighbor. A good way to start the morning.

... P. L. Morningstar
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