I'm a city dweller, with all the amenities of modern life. We also have a cabin deep in the California redwoods, a mile up a dirt road. Quiet. Peaceful. No city services. So on several of the hottest days of July, we were out gathering firewood for next winter, loading up for the wood burning stove. Even with Tom on a modern, gas powered splitter (and Felix with a sledgehammer and a maul), it took all three generations of us. Sasha and my 93 year old dad pitched wood from the loose pile to the stack, Felix and I made a tidy, geometric pile to over-winter. Penny supervised. Think that looks hard? Here's my father's father, 90 years old, on the woodpile he just split and stacked on his farm in Graton, about 50 miles from our cabin.