The day started early for me. When I awoke at 7:15, my husband and three of our seven dogs had already gone for a golf cart run around our farm. Putting on my red flannel housecoat, I poured my coffee and went outside to greet them. Here they came, lickity-split, so excited to see me. After such a hot summer, the cool weather had invigorated all of them including Eddie. “I’m not ready for this!” my brain cried, but I forced a smile anyway. To them, I looked like I felt fine.

“Get ready, Linda,” Eddie announced. “We’re going to the woods today.”
He started packing a cooler with drinks and snacks while I went to change my clothes. My arthritis didn’t like the weather change and made even the simple task of putting on my socks much harder. Eddie knew this and did his best to make it better. He loaded a lawn chair for me so I could relax and watch him cut wood. How could I refuse to go along? It was his favorite thing to do, something to do to keep his family warm through the winter months. For me, it was hard work, something I had trouble finding pleasure in. I had other plans for today. Oh, well…
By mid-morning, the sun had warmed the woods and my sore joints begin to feel its soothing effect. Eddie continued to saw downed trees like there was no tomorrow. Gas fumes and saw dust permeated the air as our dog, Tumbleweed, and I watched in awe. This was his first year for wood cutting and he seemed to like what he saw.
I tried to relax, but all I could think of was all the things I needed to be doing back at the house. My closet needed organizing, my floors needed mopping, and my pantry was a total disaster. My writing projects were falling seriously behind schedule. And, still the wood chips flew. Every now and then, Eddie looked in my direction, sweat dripping from his brow, and smiled like he was the happiest man alive. And, at that moment, I think he was.
When the trees were sawed into small chunks, Eddie fired up the wood splitter, a truly amazing piece of machinery. But, it took two people to operate it safely. Eddie gave it his best shot, determined not to ask for my help. Like a good wife, I came to the rescue. “You sure about this? Don’t let it hurt you,” Eddie said. I would hurt, but he would never know. I wanted to help.
At first, the lever was stiff and sent throbs through my sore hands and wrists, but the pain eventually lessened. The job would have been a breeze for me a few years ago.
As the day progressed, we worked in harmony—he loaded the wood onto the carriage and I engaged the hydraulic arm that busted them wide open, then he threw the quartered pieces into the truck bed. This wasn’t so bad. A sense of power overcame me as beads of sweat broke out on my forehead too. Tumbleweed looked confused, but content as he laid in the shade watching the whole scenario from a distance.
By afternoon, the heat was sweltering, our cooler empty from a number of snack breaks, and our truck bed full. Eddie glowed when he looked at the pile of firewood, his winter fuel ready for use.
I followed him in the golf cart back to the house to start supper. He unloaded his wood as I faced the undone chores. Then, it hit me—I hadn’t really wanted to work at the house today, had I? After spending a day in the woods, those things didn’t seem so important any more.
Out the back window, I watched Eddie stacking the wood into the woodshed and felt my own sense of accomplishment. What started out as a day I dreaded turned into a day I cherished. Not only did I feel better physically, my attitude was better. There would be plenty of time for housework when the snow fell, plenty of time for organizing when the sun wasn’t shining. And, when I sit by the warm wood stove this winter, my joints will thank me. I’ll remember the refreshing day I spent in the woods and won’t remember all the things that didn’t get done.
Linda C. Defew © 2007 butyoudontlooksick.com