“Help me carry some more firewood upstairs.”
“Sure.”
The firewood was stored under the deck, where the concrete slab on which the cabin sat extended under the full width of the deck. We had sheets of plastic covering the wood to protect it from the elements. We each picked up an armload of wood, went up to the great room, and stashed the wood in a metal log holder next to the hearth.
“I hope we have some snow for Christmas,” I said.
“From what people have told us, don’t count on it. It doesn’t happen every year.”
“I know, but I can hope, can’t I?”
“Sure.”
“What shall we do for dinner?” I said.
“I think we need to walk up the mountain and back before we even think about food.”
“Let’s go.”