I called Marko Koraca several days ago, and he promised to deliver two cubic meters of firewood around noon today. I was having my morning coffee at Marko’s when he called me to tell me that he would be at my house with his tractor and trailer in a quarter of an hour. On my way to my house, I saw Monique and Arnold Trampe talking with Zdravko Košutić, a neighbor of mine. They were talking in Dutch, for Zdravko had spent most of his working life in the Netherlands. When I told them that I was about to receive a load of firewood, there was much laughter. Both Arnold and Zdravko wished me the best of times, but they explained that they could not help me. Unfortunately, they explained, they had other things to do. We laughed and laughed before I dashed home. When Marko arrived and unloaded the firewood, I paid him, shook hands with him, and started carrying the logs to a covered part of my terrace, where it would be safe from the weather. Two years ago, it took me two hours and a half to bring all the firewood in and stack it up (“Firewood,” October 1, 2013). I was ready for the long chore, but Arnold suddenly appeared. Without a word, he picked up a few logs and carried them to my terrace. A short while later, Zdravko also appeared out of the blue. He, too, picked up a few logs without a word. We were finished in about three quarters of an hour. There was much laughter once again, and I thanked them both for their help. “Just remember who helped you this time around,” they giggled. “The Dutch!” Kidding aside, getting the firewood for the winter was much fun this time around. Dutch fun, too.