My grandfather was head of a logging camp when he discovered a fresh-water lake. He built a road down to the highway and deeded it to the county, then set about clearing spots where he would build their beautiful home, and other homes to sell. My grandfather wasn’t an emotional man, but he loved my grandmother. One day, they were out looking at his latest project where a number of trees had been cut down. He put his arm around my grandmother and said, “Honey, someday all these stumps will be yours.”
