The woodstove is always going now, with a pot of soup simmering, and a kettle or two of hot water on top, something roasting in the oven, a pan of yogurt forming on the shelf behind, boots drying beside, mitts and hats hanging nearby. There is an abundance of fuel now, thanks to the pine beetle, but every log is still precious, as we are aware of the costs of even this "free fuel".
We, it seems, cannot exist without adversely affecting our environment.
We chop wood, shovel snow, gaze out at the frozen lake, and ponder this predicament
while politicians discuss the future of the planet in Bali over wine and cheese.
We are thinking, always thinking.