A tree had come down on the property the week before we got there and, of course, the men wanted to chop it up for firewood. Talk about a liability waiting to happen. The owner was a little wary about letting them do it, but eventually gave in.
The boys dug in immediately, swinging those axes like mad. Eventually shirts came off and there were nothing but grunts coming from their direction. It was a bit of a testosterone show. The girls sat for awhile, listening and watching, and finally wanted to get in on the action ourselves.
I’m a natural klutz. Most of the scars on my body are from my klutziness. So chopping wood was probably more of a hazard for me than for others. There was genuine concern that I would chop my leg off.
Knowing this klutzy aspect of me, my husband carefully instructed me on what to do, then stepped back cautiously and continued to give me tips. I lifted the axe, allowing the weight of it to guide my hands down, and slammed into the chunk of wood. It felt awesome. I felt so powerful.
As you can see I continued until I had busted the thing right open. My arms were sore but I could have done that all day. I felt like a powerhouse. And I came out with all my limbs!