Just say no—to scrap lumber ~ October 25, 2006

David Heiller

Where does scrap wood come from?

I’ve been pondering that profound question recently. I’ve got a barn full of it, and the pile just keeps growing.

I know it’s not magic, but sometimes it seems that way.

There’s the pile of kindling in the east wing of the barn, the one that has fallen over three times, with a little help from Rosie the dachshund, who is always rooting around for possums and mice.

There’s another kindling pile in the barn proper that consists of cardboard boxes full of sawn up boards. No way will Grandma’s old trash burner consume that kindling in my life-time.

Next to that second pile are scrap boards that are too long to fit in the trash burner. They are waiting to be sawed up, put in a box, and added to the other pile.

There are the boards on the lumber pile in the west wing of the barn. I even built a rack for them. They are sorted by size, dimensional lumber down low, one inch lumber up above.

There’s the pile next to that, with nails in it, waiting for me to come along with the crow bar and claw hammer and make them safe and usable.

There’s the pile of tongue and groove ash boards, left over from when we built the house. Then there’s a pile of flooring, and a pile of plywood.

Truth is I can’t throw a board away. A long one, say anything over three feet, goes onto one of the lumber piles. The shorter ones go on the kindling pile.

I even moved all the scrap wood from my piles in Sturgeon Lake to Brownsville when we moved here in 2003. I remember Kevin Serres looking at my lumber pile shortly after that, when I had recruited him and his son to help me move a freezer. “What are you going to do with that?” he said, taking a drag from his ever-present mini-cigar and eyeing the boards with his famous skepticism.

“That’s my lumber pile;” I said, a bit defensively no doubt. It wasn’t the first time the question had been asked. “This board right here came from a friend in Stillwater, it’s a rough cut two-by-six, probably virgin white pine.” I not only know my lumber pile, I know where most of the boards came from.”

“Hmmph,” Kevin replied. He wasn’t impressed.

Sometimes the wood does come in handy. My rule of thumb when doing building or repair projects is to not spend any money on lumber. I built 120 feet of benches in the loft of the barn without buying one board, and replaced a bunch of rotten floor boards there too.

And it’s hard to say no to new acquisitions. When John Holzwarth called to see if I could use some old boards, I said yes. John even delivered them not too long after that. My lumber piles are minor league compared to John’s. They were good boards, poplar siding and one-by boards in many widths. John had sawn them himself, which made them even more valuable in my eyes. But they failed the test of time at his carpentry compound, so he happily parted with them and I happily took them. I didn’t offer to pay him anything either. In fact, I half-expected him to slip me a twenty for agreeing to take them. I have used them on several projects, and there’s still a pile of them in the barn. Oops, that’s another pile I forgot to mention.

Every so often I call people and ask if they can use some kindling. They’ll usually say yes, but not always. No doubt they are fighting off their own excess scrap wood addiction, and have learned a valuable skill—how to say no.