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158
Adventures in Contentment
·
David Grayson
38
One
cold
night
when
I
sat
comfortably
at
my
fireplace,
listening
to
the
wind
outside,
and
feeling
all
the
ease
of
a
man
at
peace
with
himself,
my
mind
took
flight
to
my
snowy
field
sides
and
I
thought
of
the
trees
there
waiting
and
resting
through
the
winter.
So
I
came
in
imagination
to
the
particular
corner
in
the
fence
where
I
had
cut
my
hickory
sapling.
Instantly
I
started
up,
much
to
Harriet's
astonishment,
and
made
my
way
mysteriously
up
the
kitchen
stairs.
I
would
not
tell
what
I
was
after:
I
felt
it
a
sort
of
adventure,
almost
like
the
joy
of
seeing
a
friend
long
forgotten.
It
was
as
if
my
hickory
stick
had
cried
out
at
last,
after
long
chrysalishood:
"I
am
ready."
I
stood
it
on
end
and
struck
it
sharply
with
my
knuckles:
it
rang
out
with
a
certain
clear
resonance.
"I
am
ready."
I
sniffed
at
the
end
of
it.
It
exhaled
a
peculiar
good
smell,
as
of
old
fields
in
the
autumn.
"I
am
ready."
So
I
took
it
under
my
arm
and
carried
it
down.
"Mercy,
what
are
you
going
to
do?"
exclaimed
Harriet.
"Deliberately,
and
with
malice
aforethought,"
I
responded,
"I
am
going
to
litter
up
your
floor.
I
have
decided
to
be
reckless.
I
don't
care
what
happens."
Having
made
this
declaration,
which
Harriet
received
with
becoming
disdain,
I
laid
the
log
by
the
fireplace--not
too
near--and
went
to
fetch
a
saw,
a
hammer,
a
small
wedge,
and
a
draw-shave.
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