Putting hardened steel to wood. The wind up, follow through and the explosion of wood cracking apart in to perfect sections. Splitting log after log as piles of perfectly quartered firewood grows around you.
It is New England fall at it's finest. Splitting wood as leaves drop. Just in time as the warm days turn to cooler nights. There is a smell that accompanies fall in New England. It's clean and crisp with a sense of urgency that winter is coming and chores need to be done.
There is nothing more satisfying than heating your house with wood from a tree you cut down, split, stacked, dried, brought in to your house, stacked again then burned. It's primal, like hunting a Woolly Mammoth or forging a path west in covered wagons.
Although it can be repetitive you have to stay alert and not go on auto pilot as you are still swinging around a sharp heavy instrument used for destruction. From that alertness comes clarity and every now and then the perfect piece of firewood splits away from its log brethren and shows itself. I have been known to save those pieces to admire. Put above the mantle to appreciate and ponder before tossing in to the flame.
There is beauty in everyday natural things all around you. Just move through life with clarity to see and appreciate them.