This is my son Eugene, age 13, when we lived on the old farm in Washington State. It was forty acres of brush and over-grown pasture, not much good for anything but blackberries and firewood -- plenty of both. Here is Eugene posed upon a pile of logs. There had been a giant fir tree near the house and we cut it down -- and then split it and stacked it, and used it to keep the old farmhouse warm in the winter.
It was a drafty old house with poor insulation, and the wood stove barely kept us warm, only to sit near it and toast your feet against it -- that was all right.
This photo was taken in 1990. Eugene is 35 now. He lives in Venice and he works as a librarian. You might see him around town -- say hello.