So she walks over, looks at the woodpile, and says, "I think you have a problem." I put down my 8 pound splitting maul, thankful for the break, and say, "problem? I have a problem?" "Yes," she says, "and there must be a name for it." She thinks a minute and says, "I've got it. EXCESSIVE COMPULSIVE FIREWOOD DISORDER. ECFD. That's the name of your affliction. I think it fits." And she walks back in the house. I'm sure she's feeling pretty proud about herself for that perfect acronym.

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NOW I know why I was so compelled to cut and split all this firewood last spring, summer, and fall. This image shows less than half of my wood supply. This is one of the earliest, heaviest snowfalls we've ever had. Twenty inches. Who knows what's yet to come? Winter hasn't officially started yet.

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