Wednesday, May 18, 2016

Timberrrrrr!

I think he may have lost his mind.  87 years of age and he's splitting firewood.  Splitting firewood the old school way; axe, steel wedges and a sledge hammer.  No fancy, schmancy hydraulic log splitter there.    Then, he complains about sore muscles.  Muscles he has obviously forget he had.  Gee dad, really?

My father doesn't have a fire place, a wood stove, an out door fire pit, or even a bare spot of earth suitable for a bonfire.  And it wasn't even his tree, a neighbor had one removed from her property and he asked if he could have it.  Ugh.  I s'pose if it makes him happy.

Don't get me wrong, I love a crackling fireplace, or the warmth of a wood stove.  I like wood heat.  I HATE heating with wood.  Even if you have your firewood delivered it is a huge pain in the ass.  It's probably not too terribly bad with a new stove/furnace/fireplace.  With the older tech it is a lot of work.

Sometime in the five minutes between extremely hot, humid and muggy wasteland summers and the biting cold winds, and rain of autumn in the wasteland one had to go to the woods.  There you spent all day felling, topping out trees and cutting the logs into stove sized lengths.  Next, if you got really lucky, planned your assault well and the wasteland weather hasn't turned your killing ground into a quagmire the piles of firewood would be close enough that you could drive right to them.

"Hey little brother, pull the truck forward about 10 or 15 feet."  I said.
"What're you boys doing?"
"Nothing Pop, just pulling the truck up a little."
"Ah, that truck'll be alright..."
"Little brother, about 10 or 15 feet."
Little brother pulls forward and the top few inches of the tree crash down on the open tailgate.
"See, I told you that truck would be alright." 

The wood is on the ground now, and like I said, with luck close to the truck2000 lbs loaded into the back of the truck, one armload of 28" logs at a time.  Home to unload 2000 lbs, one armload of 28" logs at a time.  Had we been doing it my way, we'd be nearly done, throw a tarp over the wood pile to keep the weather off and call it a day.

Nope, not today.  Dad always chose the biggest trees he could find, claims you can get more wood in a shorter time. (Minds outta the gutter you delinquents).  Bigger logs mean more splitting, funny how that works out.  2000 lbs of fuel, one time to split it, one more time to move it all to the woodpile, except now, it's in 2, 4, 6, or 8 more pieces.  And once again to stack it.

Yay it's done.  Except it's not.  It's going to take several of those days to lay in enough firewood for the winter.

Yay, now it's done.  Except it's not.  Everyday, from now until spring, someone has to bring in four or five armloads of wood to fuel the beast.

Are we done yet?  Nope.  We still have to keep the stove going all day, every day and carry out the ashes.  Yay!

Oh, I won't even mention the little things like the shitty weather one is likely to experience on those daily trips to the woodpile or the minor inconvenience of a roaring flue or chimney fire.

Yes, I love a crackling fireplace, or the warmth of a wood stove.  I like wood heat.  I HATE heating with wood.

Padding the buffer a little.  Thanks.

See you tomorrow.

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