The universe is cold. We live in a narrow band of warmth at just the right distance from a nuclear furnace. When the tilt of the planet moves us just a few degrees, the temperatures we need to survive have to be artificially created.
Sitting a brick platform in my living room is an iron box. A civilized method to provide heat, a big step up from huddling around an open fire. It requires many hours of work every year to cut split and stack enough truckloads of wood to get through the winter. This sustained cold spell saw my stacks dwindling at an alarming rate.
Last weekend, I spent Saturday afternoon cutting and splitting a dead oak tree with a friend. It is a true friend that will spend a cold afternoon in the woods working a splitting maul and loading a truck. Because what he help you provide for your family is fire, and fire is life.
A friend is the man who knows you, and still likes you.