Into the trees behind our house we went, and Scott used the chainsaw to topple several standing-dead poplars, which he then de-branched and lopped into six-foot lengths to be dragged into the yard and cut down to size for our woodstove.

As he does this last cutting, I sit watching, sweating, on the step with the dog. The small pile of wood you see will keep our little house heated for a week, maybe more.

Meanwhile, the menfolk from the neighbouring house, which is heated by an outdoor woodburning furnace that goes through wood incredibly fast, have driven north to the Greenwater Lake area, where they are purchasing a cord of wood that may last them a couple weeks.

Getting wood for their furnace is a huge job. Although the outdoor furnace heats a much larger house as well as the shop and the milkhouse (neither of which really needs to be heated I suppose, and at least one has another heating system that could be used when required), it goes through the wood something terrible. We could have had our house hooked up to it but then Scott would have been responsible for getting the wood, along with his brother. He had the foresight to realize how much extra work and time that would require, and opted out.

We're awfully glad he did, as after an hour's labour with no travel involved and negligible cost, we are set for some time and Scott can take a couple hours off in the afternoon to relax if he wishes. Not that he does, of course. Heck no. This is a farm; there's always something to do, and out he goes to the corrals to get ahead of the game before darkness falls.

Today they're out preparing animals to be shipped to auction this week.