First Fire

All through the summer, back into spring, back to last winter and beyond, and even now, as winter rolls in and the roads and fields finally turn white with snow, I've been stocking up for the cold, stacking wood, splitting, stacking again into the back yard.  And now it's time to fire up the stove, finally, and turn that wood into heat for the house.  And for Walter, the old dog whose big trick is to find the warmest place in the warmest room.  Now he can find a spot that's too warm for even him.  He won't go to the edge of the fire, creep too near the stove.
We've had such good weather coming into this winter that a fire in the stove hasn't seemed right, so the big heater has stayed cool until last night, when the right thing seemed to be, bring the ash can and log holder up from the basement, lay the fire tools near the stove, bring newspapers in to get the ball rolling, gather up kindling to be the first to flame, then add the first logs to the fire.  Fast forward an hour or so and the stove is blazing and the thermometer, set at 70 degrees, now shows the room to be at 75.  Finally, the payoff for cutting, hauling, splitting, stacking, bringing into the house.  Walter, now snoring by the fire, seems thankful.