Winter is always whispering in our ears; so far, climate change still brings some subzero days, and wood stoves are our savior. This wood heat is remarkably even and comforting.

In May, we begin preparing for winter, ordering hay and firewood. We got seven cords this year, two more than we probably need. But the good thing about too much firewood is that you can always use it the following year, and it will be even drier. We’ve lit some wood in the fireplace twice this Fall, just for a little while in the evening. A wood-burning fireplace is the coziest thing in the world.

Maria stacked all seven cords this year; thank you, excellent human. I oversaw the ordering, and we both did a good job. This morning, we laid a tarp over last week’s delivery. I’m starting to do things I stopped doing a month ago. I took the clothes off the line, and helped Maria lay the tarps over the wood.

I couldn’t help her remove the air conditioners from the window; too much danger of a dizzy fall. I’m also washing and drying the dishes most of the time.

Maria is still doing almost all the cooking, but I’m doing some again. The burden of all the farm work has fallen on her, and I’m glad to be beginning the process of helping her out more and being useful. I still have some weeks to go, but I am always getting more robust. It feels good.

I have to learn what I can do safely and what I can’t. The boundaries are confusing and changing—one step at a time, one day at a time. Still having trouble with standing up after resting or sleeping.