The first neighbor stopped while she was tying a bundle with rope. He watched, then pointed at the growing stack. “You planning to feed those to something?” he asked. “No,” she said. “I’m putting them around the cabin.” He laughed. “Around it?” She nodded. “Along the walls that take the worst wind.” He shook his head. “Those are flower stalks, not lumber.”
She did not argue. Instead, she carried the bundle to the north side of the cabin and stood it upright against a wooden frame. More followed. The stalks were dry and tightly packed, but she left spaces so air could move and moisture would not sit against the logs. Her daughter watched from the doorway. “Do you think he’s right?” she asked. The woman tightened the rope. “I think winter will answer that better than he can.”
By the next afternoon, two more people had come to look. One joked that the cabin would soon resemble a basket. Another warned that mice would move in. She listened, then covered the lowest sections with wire and kept working. Every criticism gave her problems to solve. She was not trying to prove anyone wrong. She was trying to stay warmer.