Five Happinesses

Fio is happy to report that those boxwoods she and Husband planted a year and a half ago are thriving despite the extraordinarily cold winter. So are the ligustrums and the nandenas, but the bayberries seem to be going into decline again. Com'on guys--you can do better than that!
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She's also happy to tell you that her wonderful yard man is back in business again. He came by a week late in his cousin's truck (his is in the shop) and cut more firewood (mas lenya) for Fio and Husband, who were running out.
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Fio's third happiness is that she's actually had a reply to her letter to the editor about the march she wants to put together in conservative-as-all-get-out Georgetown. That makes at least three of us who will be carrying signs on March 24.
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Number four is that Fiorella is finally getting a handle on putting together the taxes for the accountant. Pray for Fio on that one though.
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Last but not least, Fio has started her 5000th revision of Phillipa's story and it's actually moving along. Good, because she's eager to start on her next story.

Environment

Fiorella speculates that all things, sentient or not, have spirits and, as such, have the same desire to be useful that Fiorella does. That the fallen tree limbs volunteer themselves for the fireplace--which is so much more noble a sacrifice than rotting in the yard--and that the rocks trip her on purpose so she will notice them and add them to her driveway edging. And always soft-hearted, Fio makes a point of reassuring the branches and rocks she has to leave behind that she will be back for them another day.

Maybe Fio took Girl of the Limberlost too literally.

Midnight Confessions

Fiorella has, she hopes, done many kind and appropriate things in her life, but the times she has been a total ass are the ones burned into her memory.
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Fio, a realist, is not impressed by the current art and poetry scene.  In her opinion, both have been rarified to the point of absurdity.
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"You think too much," Fio's mother told her. But Mother, I needed to understand everything in order to survive.
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Husband isn't too fond of harvesting fallen limbs and dead trees on the property because they're so irregular compared to the neatened up firewood that HEB etc., sell, but Fiorella likes the twists and turns of what she considers to be REAL wood. She's also drawn to people with interesting twists and turns.
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Wanna know how powerful Fiorella is? She's the firstborn of ALL her cousins and the only one without a middle name. In her paternal line, she's especially unique in that her given name is original--she wasn't named after any of her relatives.

Revelations

Fiorella is the most creative creature on the face of the earth, and she's usually pretty self-secure about it too, but sometimes she needs someone to pat her on the head and say "good dog." Like about now, when she's desperate for someone to come over to the house, ignore the messes, and admire her Christmas decorations. AND SHE'S NOT GOING TO PACK AWAY SO MUCH AS A  STRING OF TINSEL UNTIL SHE GETS HER FILL OF OOHS AND AAHS!
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When it comes to keeping fires going, Fio is a great believer in rotten wood.
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An extensive analysis of the personalities of the hero and heroine are the basis of every romance your Fiorella writes. From then on, the characters make their own story.
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Strangely enough, Fio felt quite comfortable walking up the driveway to the mailbox yesterday when everyone else was complaining about the weather. Sure, the temperature was hovering at freezing, but the cold was still--no wind--and the sun was bright. Of course, Fio was clutching her mother's mink jacket around her, which also may have helped.
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Fio is gathering all the evidence on the dining room table in preparation for working on the taxes, one of her least popular chores, but it must be done. Luckily, she has a very nice CPA couple who tolerate her ignorance and stupidity. Thank you, Lisa and Blake.

Pre-Christmas

It's that time of year when 5:30 isn't daytime any more. Fiorella had grabbed her pruners and journeyed up the south driveway to check on the tinsel garlands she had hung on trees along the way  and to move her bag of supplies further on down the row. She'd been out maybe half an hour when she suddenly realized that the woods had fallen silent, the air was still, and night was coming on fast. Looking around, she hefted her pruners and beat a quick tattoo back to the house.
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H-E-B is really cleaning up on firewood this year. A puny stack of short, shaven, anemic-looking sticks costs almost six bucks.  Good thing Fio and Husband harvest their own fireplace fodder--not that they've had much of a chance to use it this "winter."
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Fio's Christmas shopping is done because all she does at this point in her life is write checks. However her decorating has just begun because she was born art through-and-through and always will be. Yes, you will soon be seeing photos of her creative endeavers.

Pioneer Woman

The temps are down to the forties, and the roar of chainsaws echoes in the land as our rural neighborhood prepares for winter. Fio took an hour break from working on her novel yesterday to help Husband cut some firewood, then filled a trash can with rotting wood from out in what the yardman calls "el  parke" to use as punk. As usual, she is determined to be as self-sufficient fire-wise as possible--no store-bought wood, no H-E-B starters.

Favorite Time of Year

Autumn is here. It was below sixty degrees yesterday evening, and Fio didn't get a single mosquito bite when she hiked up to the mailbox.. She does have a cold though, but she can deal with that.
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Fio is, at last, back to work on her book. Strangely enough, the heartbreak of last week has strengthened her resolve and sharpened her pen. She will write deep, she will write strong. She will send her messages out to the world.
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Sonia Dog has had a couple of re-occurrences of her leg problem, but she is now bouncing up the stairs with ease again. Of course, while she was down, Mommy and Daddy had to switch on and off sleeping on the couch with her so she wouldn't yelp all night.
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Fio and Husband got some important gardening work done just before the temperatures dropped, and twenty-six boxwoods now guard the edge of their front yard.  Next spring, Fio plans to plant nandenas and a third ligustrum. Anything to cover the AC units.
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Husband is talking about chopping up some dead tree limbs for firewood. The time is at hand.

Learning Curve

Guess who went outside yesterday afternoon and cut the limbs off a fallen tree that she and Husband want to turn into firewood?  Guess who learned that, despite what Husband said, it's not too hot for mosquitoes?

Fascinated by Firewood

Yes, yet another blog about the fireplace.

Fio and Husband had a fireplace in their previous home that they fed with real wood, but that wood was bought from H-E-B, and every log looked pretty much the same. Now the wood comes from their own land--fallen branches salvaged, or dead trees that have been chain-sawed down--and each length of the resulting firewood looks different from every other length.  Right now, Fio is looking at a misshapen chunk of hardwood balanced sideways on top of a three-inch-in-diameter oak log while, in front of the screen, a crotched log awaits its fate. A log that burns down to ashes is a happy log--it has fulfilled its purpose in life.

Fiorella's Christmas Sonnet, 2015

Christmas Fire

The firewood salvaged from our fallen trees
We've dried and heaped upon the fireplace grate
To counteract the deep midwinter freeze
Which lowering temperatures prognosticate.
Steel strikes flint, the tinder pile is lit,
A quick flame flashes, then  is gently fed
Until the fire is burning bright and brisk
Its fingers reaching high, its embers red.
Cackling and raging and roaring with each bite,
The hungry fire consumes the waiting wood,
But after we have gone to bed  at night
The flames burn out--untended, unrenewed.
      Yet warmth awakens us upon the morn--
      Merry Christmas to all!  Christ is born!

Christmas Snippets

The noose draws tighter--the Christmas Eve noose, that is.  Only seven more days left for Fio to decorate the house and the driveway.  Send your energy vibes her way.
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The yardman cut down two dead trees on our property, doubling our supply of firewood. It's the right thing to do.  Fio is always saddened by the sight of broken and fallen trees on the side of the road.  Leaving arboleal corpses to rot in the rain is a disrespectful and a waste of natural resources.
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Fiorella appreciates the fact that plastic ornaments can last forever, but she prefers the limited lifespans  of the traditional glass ornaments.  Their very fragility makes them more precious.

Happy Days!

Fiorella's world has turned rosy again.  Her offspring are safely home from Hong Kong, Husband has been warming the house with firewood from their copious home-grown supply, and she herself woke up feeling G-R-R-R-E--AT!  Now, off to conquer the world.

Yes, Fio is mailing five copies of WHERE THE HEART LEADS off to national Romance Writers of America today, the final step in entering the the yearly contest for published authors.  Let's face it--Fio doesn't stand a snowball's chance in hell, but she's thrilled to be a contestant.  But maybe in the future . . . .

Waste Not, Want Not

Maybe she was a little match girl who froze to death in a previous life, but Fiorella has a thing about firewood.  You saw the picture of all the wood she and Husband have stored up for winter, and that's with at least three dead trees to go.  You'd think that would be enough, but nooo--as Fio drives to and from home, she covets the dead and broken trees she sees on the roadside.  If only she had a pick-up and a couple of nervy henchmen to sneak into the woods in the dead of night and chainsaw those trees down, then pack them in the truck and drive them back home for her.

Any volunteers?

THE FIREWOOD ACROSS THE DRIVEWAY

Fiorella put this photo on the blog ALL BY HERSELF!  

It shows the firewood across the driveway that she and Husband are storing up for winter, and it's all from their own land.  Unfortunately, due to the continual drought, there are still a couple more dead trees to go. 

And no, she doesn't know why her blog is centering itself but it probably has something to do with writing above the centered photo.  Next time, she'll write first, then insert the photo.

Fiorella of the Chainsaw

Fiorella is queen of the chainsaw!  All hail!

Yes, when Husband said there was no way the fallen tree in the north driveway could be taken back to the house and hacked up for next winter's firewood, Fio decided to find a way--and there you have the essence of her personality.  Anyway, she took chainsaw in hand, marched up the driveway and commenced sawing, hacking off all the limbs and cutting the ones she could handle into eighteen-inch lengths.  The rest of the tree she figured, could be hauled back to the area in front of the house, where Husband has a couple of big logs set on end to use as a work table.

Fio wasn't as successful with the tree that fell across the street during the storms.  The neighbors had kindly maneuvered it to the side of the road, but Fio wasn't about to kneel down on sloping ground to cut it up into firelogs so she had to be happy with trimming off a few inconsequential limbs.

And as she swaggered back to the house swinging her chainsaw, the nasty cedars along the way cowered in fear. Mercy, Fiorella, I beg you.

But Fio took a few swipes at them anyway.  Chainsaw Lady knows no mercy.

Outdoor Update

The past two days, Fiorella and Husband have been spending time out in the invigorating spring air chainsawing fallen tree limbs into fireplace lengths.  Fio's goal is to be totally self-sufficient for firewood next winter. Okay, she'll admit that Husband bought about half the wood they now have stored in those metal hoops out front, but she wants all augmentation to be from their own forest.
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Bayberriess, Fio loves you.  After YEARS of trying to screen the air conditioner system with supposedly hardy, deer-resistant bushes, Fio and Husband finally planted bayberries.  Three years in, and they're taller than the compressor units.  Another year and Fio will start trimming them so they'll fill in more.
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Fio finally gave in and hired a once-a-month yard man.  The only problem is that Fernando's English is limited, but your ever-resourceful  correspondent has found a solution.  She writes out what she wants to say, uses Google to translate it into Espanol, then reads it off to Fernando in the best Spanish accent she can muster  Que?
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Sonia is a serious-minded adult dog now.  No more running into the bushes when she goes outside with Fio and Husband.  She either sleeps on the porch or--well--dogs our footsteps.
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The sun is shining, the trees are whipping in the breeze, and everything is glistening with last night's rain.  Who could ask for better?

Neighbors

Fiorella's cup runneth over because she has wonderful neighbors. The most recent additions to her honor roll are Mike and Kathy Brown, who live on the other side of the dry creek.  Last Christmas, they brought over a four-pack of mouth-watering cupcakes.  And earlier this year, they came over again to be sure Husband and Fio still wanted to split the cost of a property-line fence with them.

We invited them in, of course, and the four of us talked about ourselves and fences and deer and trees and firewood.  Mike, who knows how to take down dead trees, volunteered to share firewood with us, and this weekend we took him up on it.  An hour later, he and Kathy drove a flatbed loaded with cut wood down our driveway and unloaded it for us.

We are blessed. And warm.

Fire and Fuel

Husband brought in an armful of wood Tuesday night, and we had our first fire of the season, which always thrills Fio. Our own wood from our own trees on our own property--there's something so timeless about it, so eternal.

And equally eternal is the hunt for more firewood. Husband has marked several trees done in by the drought so we'll be out with our chainsaws this weekend. If you have some extra time, come join us. But bring your own chainsaw.

Snippets of the Drought

Fiorella is pleased to announce that Miz Duggar has a new offspring. It's midway between her and the next verbena, which, since they sleep in the same bed, Fio is now calling Jim Bob.
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Husband discovered the sugar water in the hummingbird feeder had fermented into alcohol. So did the hummingbirds.
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The only good thing about the drought is that we'll have more dead trees to cut down for firewood come October. How's that for making lemonade out of lemons?

Up in Flames

Years ago Fiorella saw a reality show on TV in which a variety of families volunteered to live like old-time pioneers. She cheered on the enterprising couple that found a box spring mattress in the woods and toted it back to their cabin, arguing that pioneers would have made use of "found goods." And she booed the bitchy woman who smoked a pipe and was constantly carping about the enterprising couple. And she remembers how the adventure was called off after the amount of firewood that had been harvested for the winter was tabulated--the stacks looked like enough to warm all of Iceland to Fio, but the experts said they weren't adequate.

Now Fio understands. Husband chainsawed FOUR big iron rings full of wood this fall, and now, halfway through winter, two-thirds of it is gone.

Luckily he bought himself a new chainsaw for Christmas.