I spent the past few weeks clearing Redwood growth, widening a horse path, and resetting the wood steps in off-the-grid Boulder Creek, CA, in preparation for the winter rains to come. And of course chopping wood. When I was little, in weekends, my father needed to cut down trees. Mostly for fuel. I was not allowed to swing the axe, but I got to fantasize, seize a feel, handle lesser jobs, and sweat through the day. It was tough work, almost always you got splinters, scrapped arms and sore hands, but when the day was done and the wood was split and stacked, secure from the elements, you washed the mud off your body and ate plain rice and raw mangos, with some satisfaction.