Chop Wood, Carry Water

"Before enlightenment, chop wood and carry water.
After enlightenment, chop wood and carry water."
--Wu Li
At the Y this morning George Washington was chopping down a cherry tree. OK, it was Mike Richardson chopping down the apple tree at the front entrance of the Y. The pieces were going into the back of his pickup which made me wonder if he was going to perhaps burn them in his fireplace. (If he has one.)
Which is what led me to remembering when I used to burn wood. Apple wood was said to be one of the most fragrant woods to burn. I didn't come across too many apple trees needing to be cut down, but if I did get any I saved it for 'special' occasions.
I still remember how thrilled I was the first fall after we moved back home in '78. I purchased an old pickup truck and a new chain saw and wood burning stove. Doug was still living at home then and helped me cut some wood. Then a neighbor gave a friend and me permission to cut some dead trees in his timber. My co-cutter swore by Red Elm as the best burning wood. I had never heard of Red Elm - Elm, yes; Red Elm, no. (And I thought I knew my trees!) A large dead elm gave us both plenty of wood.
Burning wood helped cut down the cost of heating our big old farm house with fuel oil. It also gave me a great sense of being self-sufficient. I wanted to be more attune with nature by raising my own food and braving the elements to obtain a source of heat. For me, cutting and hauling the wood was the easy part - splitting it was something else. Even with wedges and a large maul, it was hard to do. I longed for a log splitting machine but never got one.

I was also searching for a spiritual connection which is what "Chop Wood, Carry Water" is about. (Subtitled: "A Guide To Finding Spiritual Fulfillment in Everyday Life") While the book suggests we find joy and honour in the everyday chores of life - washing dishes, cooking, cleaning as well as chopping wood - I always found more of a spiritual connection while in the woods. True, the noise of the chain saws was distracting. When they fell silent, so did the woods. Sitting on a log, drinking hot coffee, soaking in the silence, worshiping the trees, filled me with an all encompassing reverence.
When Grandma Ridnour was in her 90's, she wanted a small wood burning stove like the one she once had put back in her kitchen. Mom kept talking her out of it. She was afraid Grandma might set the house on fire. Grandma said she wanted it so she could get warm enough - nothing like wood heat to warm a person. I wonder if she wanted it to remind her of when she was able to chop wood and carry water.
I wonder if that is why I am feeling nostalgic about burning wood and wishing I was headed to the timber lay in a winter's supply?