Dennis had somehow finagled a deal in which he got a lot of reject shingles and scrap wood from a cedar shake mill up in Nordman. Some of the wood we'd loaded up hadn't ever been cut into shingles and was still in log round (length of log ready to be split for firewood) form. The cedar made wonderful kindling, and it was easy to split.

I watched one day as Raphah split one log after another. It looked like a lot of fun. I asked him if I could try.

"You're just a stupid girl! You can't split wood!", he guffawed.

At first my pride was hurt. I was not a stupid girl. I was just a good as he was. Besides, he was half my size. I was certain I could do it. Besides, he'd just told me I couldn't, and I had to prove the little brat wrong. He bent to gather up an armful of cedar kindling and I snatched the maul. It was only a 6#, but at the time I didn't know the difference.

"You can't use that! You'll wreck it! Dad doesn't want you to use it! You can't split wood!" he screamed. "You're too stupid to know how to do it!"

Ah, but I wasn't. I'd read those Mother Earth News magazines, including an article which detailed the fine art of woodsplitting. I had a pretty good idea of how to do it, even though I had never done so. But I was mad, so I didn't even answer him. I just stood up a cedar round on end and stepped back. The maul jerked up and to the right and then down towards the log and lodged into the ground next to it. Raphah laughed and jeered. I gritted my teeth and took another swing and missed again while he continued to insult me. After a number of swings, I did hit the log, but it didn't split. My aim was getting better, though. After about fifteen minutes of trying, the maul connected with the round face of the wood and split it. A rush of exhiliration and victory flooded my senses. I split more rounds of cedar even as Raphah complained that I wasn't leaving him any. Then I went back into the house and read that Mother Earth News article again, a little more intently.

By the time winter was fully upon us, I was using the 8# maul (in fact, Raphah and I fought over it, because an 8 splits so much more effectively than a 6) and I was splitting wood for hours every day. I didn't have to stand by and wait for it to be split by a man or boy so that I could stack it anymore. That was Rachel and Sarah's job, and i made sure to let them know that I wasn't a girl like them. I could do real work, like splitting wood. They didn't seem to care one way or the other, but it was a huge ego boost for me. I loved the smell of the wood, the satisfying pop of a round of wood (and not just cedar!) halving on the first blow, the striations of color inside the wood, knowing that I was the first person to ever see that wood or to open those pitch pockets. Also, I loved being able to do outside work instead of being cooped up in the house doing endless and repetitive chores. When I split wood, I had something to show for it at the end of the day. If I did the dishes, the sinks were only clean for half an hour. I couldn't even see the floor unless I got down on my hands and knees, so sweeping was even less rewarding. When I split wood, it was work, but I was deeply happy and satisfied doing it.