I loved the way the bird thinks, and it’s the best part, but I zoned out in the middle because I remembered something.

We had a wood burning fireplace in the house I grew up in. One of the houses I grew up in.

When my mom remarried, we moved to his place. In the sticks. Or the boons as I like to call them.

I don’t know why or how there was a wood burning fireplace. It was a double-wide trailer. Had to be a customized add on that was certainly not permitted.

And it wasn’t a fireplace like you’re thinking. It was more like a furnace.

Anyway, my stepdad never let me chop wood. I don’t recall chopping it. I remember carrying it. Moving it from outdoors to indoors. Probably stacking it wrong.

Maybe I’m more like Frost than I realize.