Here is a tiny portion of a truckload of fire wood with a black chord that doesn’t seem to belong there. Some buds grow into trees, get cut down, dried out, and then split and cut into fireplace or stove sized pieces to keep us warm or make it possible to cook. It’s the same process as weeds in the garden, but with more time involved and much greater utility. If properly replanted, the process goes on forever, or close enough for humans who pass away with rapidity.

Years ago I knew a man who made his living cutting down orange groves. Where once there were orange trees as far as the eye could see, now there are houses and shopping centers, and asphalt highways, cars, and pollution. His crew uprooted the trees, stripped the branches and then cut mountains of firewood. He saved all the wood from his last job and had it trucked up to his house in the hills, and stacked neatly in rows until he had his own personal mountain of firewood. Orange tree firewood. It was difficult to like this man, but of course someone else would have done the job if he hadn’t. Orange trees were not the future.

He had enough firewood in his mountain to burn fires every day for years. And that’s exactly what he did. He lit a fire and kept it burning all day, every day, through hot and cold, because he adored the scent and the crackle of orange firewood. He did not replant. The process will not go on forever. We eat oranges from Florida and Texas now. I’m guessing we also get them from Mexico and elsewhere. At least, so long as they continue to grow oranges. So long as they resist the urge to uproot the trees. So long as the last tree does not become firewood.