The first chores after breakfast Thursday morning were to secure the final edge of the plastic on the roof and check the chimney. The branch he’d found was, thankfully, long enough. He laid it over the plastic, nailed it to the roof and considered it a job well done.
Going into the cabin, he knelt in the fireplace, peering up the chimney. He could see light at the top, partially obscured by bits of branches stuck inside which had collected windblown leaves. He went in search of another branch to get rid of the mess. And it was a mess he discovered when everything he pushed down the chimney—covered with soot now—landed in the fireplace and on the floor around it.
“No rest for the wicked,” he grumbled as he started to clean up the debris. “I need a broom, damn it.” He recalled pictures he’
