Gathering Fuel

Snow spreads evenly across the forest floor. It clings precariously to both ponderosa bark and needles. The low angle of the sun casts long shadows across the unbroken ground.

Every step into the untouched snow sinks and requires effort. The sound of each compression collapses and then vanishes in the expanse of the forest, leaving only breath to fill the space.

Firewood is everywhere and rarely dry. What is down is frozen and half-buried in snow. Dead pole stands are the only available source. I pry them down one at a time.

The pile begins to grow and speculation is the only tool to gauge its completion. The bow saw grinds back and forth with great effort, separating fuel from tree. Heat builds inside the layers of wool and down, still not enough to fight the numbness setting in.

A howl breaks the quiet and I stop sawing. In short succession several more come from three directions. I stare in the direction of the closest call. There is nothing but darkness and snow.

Gila Wilderness, New Mexico - January 18, 2023