The last two Sundays have found us happily engaged in the task of making wood. Bundled up in our most sturdy, warm clothes, we take to the frosty (or disappointingly not-so) air and set about moving wood. There’s sawing and splitting, of course, but the bulk of the task involves moving it – from this pile to that, from stack to house. There’s work for all of us here, work we do together as a family for approximately 4.5 minutes until Isadora runs off to the hay pile to stash her treasures like a crow. Errol seems to be more of a steadfast worker, heaving the heavy-for-him pieces over the edge of the tailgate, then hollering with all his might a triumphant “I DID IT!” Was there a Super Bowl this past Sunday? We hadn’t noticed. It was good stuff, this work. Knowing that I’ve already waxed on and on about the sublime wonder of good honest work like this, I’ll just say that all of that still holds true. The fact that Isadora’s most intensely desired gift from Santa this past year was “work bibs like my brother, mom, and dad” is the icing on the cake. She got those bibs, of course, and the forecast for wearing them regularly looks mighty good.