Fireplaces served as the primary way to warm homes during the winter before boilers, furnaces, and space heaters. For generations, there was a rhythm of preparation established by cutting wood for the winter. Wood cutting remains an embodied way to love our neighbors in our modern age. The labor of cutting, hauling, stacking, and storing firewood demands sacrifice. It is a physical and practical act of caring for our neighbors each winter.

Most of us don’t consciously choose our screens, we drift into them; first thing in the morning, last thing at night, and in every moment of stillness in-between. Stillness becomes uncomfortable, like entering a room with the lights on, where worry, grief, or restlessness might be waiting. Our screens offer a quick and painless escape—a thousand tiny distractions that keep us from simply being.

My family and I joined Monroe Organic Farms’ CSA this past year. Each week, Monroe would drop off a handful of shares at a neighbor’s home, and everyone would come by to pick up their vegetables. Along with getting big bags of beautiful produce each week, I got to know the Monroe family more deeply, along with Mary Ann, my neighbor, who sat in her garage for two hours every week distributing the farm shares.