From the perspective of a reader (I think), this is the boring bit. The repetitive, obvious part of chores.

I am spending hours in the woods, focusing on deadfall so the tree identification part is absent. Cutting off the limbs, stacking them to the side. Cutting the trunk or large branches into ~17″ parts, letting them stay where they fall. Packing out the wood in my handy “wood purse” and rucksack since there’s no quad trail and I don’t have a horse while my chainsaw batteries charge. Repeat.

And repeat, and repeat.

I feel I should say something profound about how boring chores attunes you to the material by taking you out of your head, or about how it rewires your nervous system, or about the cyclical temporality of repetitive rhythms or something. But I think those are overstatements. Really, I think it’s just not that interesting, and that’s fine.

Not interesting is different than boring, of course. Boring is a judgment that the repetition and not-interesting nature of something is dull and tedious, as opposed to just plain repetitious and not-interesting. And I think the unadorned pattern is fine. Not inherently good, but certainly not bad. It gets wood up the hill and into the shed, and that’s all.