To me, Autumn has always smelled like Building a Woodpile.
First come the scents of Damp, Mossy, Forests of Vine Maple and Cedar, Rubber Boots and Mushrooms, Cobwebs and Lichen, while tramping through the woods in search of downed trees to cut.
The sounds of chainsaw, splitting maul, wedge, axe are followed by new scents... Two-cycle Fuel, Bar Oil, Fresh Wood, Dry Leaves, Pitch, Bark, Sweat.
The rhythm of toss... thump! as the pieces arc through the air into the back of a pickup creates a deeper rhythm for the song of the crickets, who chirp away all day long, and stirs up the Warm Metal smell of the Truckbed.
A distinctly September-ish aroma of Warm Leaves, Grass, Moss, on the verge of decay wraps itself around me as I, with work gloves and boots begin the methodical discipline of stacking the mounds of wood. The Dust and Dry Bark from previous years tickle my nose and mingle with the new, fresher scent of Cedar, Maple, Fir, Cherry, Alder.
And finally... Woodsmoke, perhaps my favorite of them all.
We're not quite there yet, but soon, very soon, it will be time to let the out-of-doors rest for awhile while we cozy up and stay warm.
Warmed for the third, fourth, fifth time by the woodpile.
These days, I don't participate much in the process, instead, keeping the youngsters clear of danger. I managed to stack a cord or two this year, and truly enjoyed myself.
My hardworking Husband and Life Companion has done more than his share, foraging, cutting, splitting, stacking for two households this year, all while being dedicated to his career and family. I am thankful every day for the strength that God has given him to tarry on even when his plate is full to overflowing.