Halfway up the steep hill is a rough building that was used as an iron worker’s shop. When the iron man left, his cousin came in with a landscaping and firewood business. All winter this mountain man and his workers split huge logs into firewood. They stacked it neatly at the back of the lot and burned what could not be sold. I laughed as we passed it this morning on our walk. In the burn spot were logs that someone piled and balanced into a work of art. I’m calling it flash art, because it was put together quickly and will be burned in a matter of hours.