One cold November day, my grandpa took me out to the woods to get firewood. We brought hot chocolate and two mugs, a chainsaw, and two axes. When we got there, the branches of the trees were covered with ice and the fields looked like clouds. As we walked into the woods, we saw a lot of dead trees perfect for firewood. We got out the chainsaw and stated to cut down the trees. He would cut the trees down and then cut them into separate pieces and I would load them into the back of the truck. After we were done there was still more room for one good size tree in the back of the truck.

We looked around and spotted a big one. We started to cut and it started to lean toward the truck. All we could do was watch it fall, hoping it wouldn’t hit the truck. We heard a big thump. The ground shook beneath our feet. We looked at the truck—it was fine. Some branches were up against the passenger side door, but nothing serious. We sat on the tailgate of the truck, sipping our hot chocolate. Then he patted me on the back and said we lucked out on that one, and we drove back home.

--Connor Dehan