This year for the first time ever, we are fireplace people.  So, that means, my husband must don his best flannel shirt and lumber jack boots, and locate, chop, stack, and haul a great big pile of manly firewood.

It’s hot.

What?  Mom, I’m talking about the fire.

(Everybody else, you know what I really mean.)

Check that out.  Nice, bold cuts.  Tight stacking.  Yup.

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