Staring into space.

It was hard work making this lot of firewood, especially as the big Balsam fir had grown a grand set of thick branches while alive. It was dying down from the top when I reluctantly decided that this was the next sacrifice for our winter delight. I knew it would be a devil to split, and in the end the last knot ridden chunks had to be cut up with the chain saw. At last here it is in piles and ready to be stacked and covered so next winter`s wood will be cured and dry when we need it.

The dry branches are burning briskly after this morning`s clean-up. Already there is a pile of incandescent coals at the base of the high, flickering shaft of flame. Unfortunately it is now lunch time but I cannot leave the fire until it dies down because while we have had plenty of rain the ground is still dry beneath the forest trees. I throw down my jacket and lie on the ground. On my back, I can look up past the layer upon layer of branches of the large trees around the clearing to the bright blue sky. It is not often for me to find myself with nothing to do but literally stare off into space.

The sun flashes in and out of racing clouds. High up, there is some wind, and I find myself engrossed by the swirling edges, the forming and then vanishing clouds of vapour. I am at the bottom of an ocean of air that tumbles and twists as it flows over the rough hilly landscape. The clouds are followed by a long period of blue which is crossed by three high flying ravens that flap their way across the clearing and then several robins cross lower down between the tree tops. No planes, although I can hear them in the distance as a background accompaniment to the bird`s flight. What luck to have this upside down and unusual moment in a busy life -like a crab looking up from the ocean floor.