I’ve had this whole “break-on-through” post that I’ve been planning. You see, all winter I’ve been working my way through our woodpile. It’s three rows wide, and I’ve been slowly using up the back two rows. (Matt, the official woodcutter in our relationship, would argue it’s not been slow enough).

Well, I was almost at the end. I had snapped some pictures showing how far I’d come, anticipating the day when I would break through.

Then I would take my final pictures and write a blog post where I talk about how happy I am that we have a fireplace, how nice it’s been to have fires all winter, how it’s almost the end of winter and how neat it is that this breakthrough moment coincides with almost the end of fire season, how we (Matt) will have to restock our firewood in anticipation of next winter.

I had it all worked out in my mind.

But then something happened. Cave in.

There will be no breakthrough.

There will be restacking, more burning (sorry, Matt). And instead you get this blog post, mourning what could have been, rather than triumphantly celebrating a milestone.

Okay, maybe milestone isn’t the best descriptor, but I’d worked it all out, people!

I blame the turkey.

Her footprints are all around that woodpile.