Continuing with the 100 life-enriching little nuances series …
We had a fireplace in the first house I can remember living in. We lived in a wooded area, so periodically my grandfather and I would jump into his GMC pickup truck and drive down into the field to look for large branches that had fallen.
When we found some, my grandpa started his chainsaw and made quick work of the branches – cutting them into firewood size chunks. Then we'd fill the back of his pickup and head back to the house.
I only remember doing this a few times, so I have no idea how the firewood got there normally. Maybe my grandpa rounded it up without me. Or maybe my dad handled it.
During the winter, my mom drug the firewood in and to start a fire. The noise made more of an impression on me than anything. Is there a more soothing sound than the crackling of a fire?
The house I live in right now doesn't have a fireplace, but I think I'm going to order a fireplace DVD to play on my TV this winter. It sounds sort of hokey and city slicker-ish, but I found this fireplace video on YouTube yesterday and I let it play all the way through twice and it was calming.
I'm already imagining myself sitting down with a good book this winter while something similar to this video plays on my television in the background.
