Sometimes the guardian angel uses the back door.

I took a drive this morning to visit my brother. He lives about an hour away, in a little town nestled in the mountains. Living not far from him are my mother's sister (you remember her) and her amazing husband. We enjoyed a lovely couple of hours, laughing and sharing stories.

As I made the drive home, I made a mental note of the things I needed to do to prepare for the coming winter. I would need some firewood, more than a few bags of salt, some kindling, and a full tank of oil. (Yeah, the oil that surely contains flecks of GOLD, as it's a billion dollars a gallon.)

It had been storming most of the day, and as I drove into my driveway I noticed an inordinate amount of twigs and branches strewn about. This happens often when it's windy, as the house is surrounded by trees from middle earth, and I'm sure that George Washington carved his initials into several of them.

I walked onto the porch, stepping over LARGE branches and the two hanging pots that were upturned and on the porch floor. When I returned one of the pots to the hanger, I saw it on the other side of the house.

Firewood.

LOTS and LOTS of firewood.

Sweet Lord in Heaven, my guardian angel could have at LEAST stacked it for me.