So we dropped our first really big tree the other day: an old, dead elm along one of the walking trails through the woods.

We had been eyeing it since we moved here, admiring the beauty of the smooth, weathering wood, and anticipating the warmth that could be produced by logs burning in the wood stove. (Elm burns hot, set ups great coals.)

And finally we had enough courage to fell it.

I practiced on a smaller tree, about 15 feet tall, the top of which had snapped off in recent storms, and that was easy. And so Paula and I were encouraged, and started scouting out the 45-ft. elm. We took our time, pondering just how to cut it, which way to drop it, drawing lines on the trunk… and then, well, we just did it. Took about 15 minutes of cutting. And then crash.

And a kind of shocked satisfaction came over us. We had done it. And no one had been hurt.

We’re planning to stay warm this winter.