Some of my fondest memories are of gathering firewood. Dad and I would head out into the woods in his 1949 Willy's Jeep with the snowplow on the front, pulling an old trailer. When there was snow on the ground, he'd plow a path to where he'd be cutting. As he cut, I'd split the wood and pile the brush and limbs. Then he'd start the brush pile on fire so we could warm ourselves. He grew his own popcorn and always carried a couple ears of it with him when we cut firewood in the snow. He also carried an old shovel in the Willy's in case we got stuck. Dad would shell some kernels off an ear of popcorn and place them on the shovel. Then he would hold the shovel in the fire, and as the corn popped and flew up from the shovel, we had great fun trying to catch it and eat it. Many of my fond memories are of things as simple as that.