That story of the grasshopper and the ant haunted me. When I moved out to the forest, Thoreau-style, I was determined to BE PREPARED.
All summer I cut wood, stacking it against the walls until the whole house was surrounded by piled firewood, five feet deep, then ten feet.
By fall, the house looked like the lodge of a beaver god, surrounded by half a mile of stumps in all directions, but at least I was PREPARED.
Then, on November 5, some passing Newfoundlanders mistook it for a bonfire and set it alight.
I’ll admit, I wasn’t prepared for that.
Learn more about Bonfire Night here