We finally got up to see Bruce and Rose Fish again. French and I hadn't seen them in months. We drove up to their place, and knocked on the door; no one answered. We looked in and couldn't see anyone. The trucks were both in the driveway, so they had to be around somewhere. French said that he knew where they were.
Out back of their place was a well worn path through the snow. We followed it. I caught on to where we were going: the dump.
It was a solid hike up and down little rocky hills. Eventually, I could see the tress opening up just ahead. I caught a whiff of smoke blowing from that direction. The path ended up behind the dump. There was Bruce Fish pulling a big chunk of wood out of a huge heap. He was tossing suitable pieces onto a sleigh. He looked up from his work and yelled: "Lend a lad a hand eh boys." We all grabbed a big plank and heaved it out. Bruce Fish was pleased: "Well done lads, that'll keep the ol'home fires burning."
Rose was over by the dump shed (French called it his office. He'd tacked up a big tin office sign over the door). She was huddled by the fire, flipping through a big leather Study Bible, and brewing tea. Rose smiled and said: "Ah you all found our little refuge."
We drank some Earl Grey tea as Rose read us the entire Book of James. When she was done Bruce Fish jumped up and said: "Enough fun! Time to haul back the fire wood."
