text: A small man, swaddled in clothing, fought against the wind to latch the gate behind him. He grabbed the handle of his cart, icy to the touch, and set off down the trail. Walking over the upturned roots the cart followed, each of its rusty wheels feeling the strain of the terrain. Five minutes later he arrived at the tree which he had watched fall yesterday; removing his gloves he started to snap off its branches, placing them down. One by one they filled the cart until there was no more room. Upon seeing that so little wood had filled his cart he sighed, remembering the cold nights that had made up the last week. Try as he did there was no more room in the cart, and he decided to head back home. He once again wheeled the rusting cart back across the veins poking up from the trail until he reached his gate. This time the gate opened easily, and he let the wind take it back. The cart was quickly unloaded, and an axe placed in its bed, for the heavier work that lay ahead. Back at the tree the axe made light work of the thin trunk and the cart was once again piled high before being taken back and deposited. Two similar journeys followed until most of the slight trunk was stacked neatly in the lean-to next to the house, he had left his axe and some of the thicker parts of the stump where the tree once stood. Returning to the tree for a third time and now bored of the monotony, he threw the remnants of the tree in the cart and dropped his axe down the side. After the previous three journeys the cart’s wheels had begun to shake as they passed over the path. Wanting to get the work over with the man walked on, paying little attention to the creaking wheels. After jolting over the root that he had previously taken care to avoid one of the cart’s rear wheels left its axle. Wood, his axe and most of the cart spilled over onto the forest floor. Taking the axe and one piece of wood in his arms the man trudged home. He walked back, defeated, to pick up the last bits of tree and his shattered cart. Walked back to his defeated cart frustration simmered, alongside disbelief that his cart had failed him when he was bringing the best bit of the tree back. Stirred by the bitter memories of the last cold week he picked up the pace, once again being careful to watch his footing over the upturned roots. As he emerged into the clearing where his cart had given up, he saw nothing other than the wheel that had betrayed his efforts and a smudge in the mud running into the forest. He knew exactly from whom and to where the smudge lead. He picked up the remnant of his defeated cart and walked back to his house only to find that the wind had knocked over his lean-to.