One of my fall wood stacks is all but covered after the last few storms. It's a pretty significant pile, but it looks like nothing these days. I'm not worried about it now. It's part of my summer work. Whether it was Stevens Avenue or Coyle Street, we seemed to be the only house that had a wood stove cranking in the winter. I always wondered about that, but the wonderful warmth of the kitchen soon dispelled those thoughts. Dad even tried coal for a few years. Anything to save a buck. Back then or even now a pretty good credo to follow.