Childhood memories

Just outside on this cool, crisp December afternoon, I hear the sound of a chainsaw.  Someone is cutting up some tree branches or a tree trunk on the street.  I am pretty sure it is the community maintenance crew doing their seasonal trimming of the trees along the sidewalk. 

The rhythmic buzz of a chainsaw is, believe it or not, one of my fondest 'sound' memories of my childhood.  It reminds me of when my father used to come home with a truck load of firewood, mostly stumps, and he expertly whips out the chainsaw and starts cutting away, from morning till afternoon, with lots of breaks in between.  While I did my math homework or studied my Japanese grammar, I could hear the faint buzz of his chainsaw from outside the closed windows on a chilly autumn day.  All those firewood is what kept our family and holiday guests warm through out the cold winter months.  I suppose hearing someone chop wood with an axe is another 'sound' that I might like.  Because what comes with wood chopping and chainsawing are sounds of the fireplace crackling, then a pot of hot soup simmering on the stove, and then a table of food with the family and of course, delightful conversation with people around the fire, while drinking eggnog.