I have logs on the brain. Specifically, those white birch logs that look so good in the catalog. Do you think they sell bundles by mail order? My nonfunctional fireplace needs something just for show.
When I spotted a pile of pear tree trimmings on our morning walk, my heart beat uncontrollably. There they were! The perfect gray green, lichen-ruffled logs, ready to whisper "mossy woods" into my living room all winter.
But I couldn't make myself walk past the carpool lane and start loading the double stroller with wet logs. (Wasn't it bad enough that I picked through the neighborhood brush piles for my mailbox decoration last year?)
All day long, I wondered if someone else was stealing my logs. My husband wouldn't even get them for me after supper. I waited until everyone went to bed, slipped a raincoat over my nightgown and Crocs, and headed out into the quiet neighborhood.
You have to admit, they were worth the trouble.