We’ve had a lot of wet
weather lately, which has me worried about our Firewood Supply.
Firewood Supply is
capitalized because it is a serious subject when you heat with wood.
Most people have their
Firewood Supply under control at this point in the year. In fact the true old
timer is working on his Firewood Supply for next year, or even 1997, right
about now. Maybe someday I’ll be at that point. But things always seem to get
in the way, like football games and gardening and an emergency or two.
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| "Argg"! |
So I’m crossing my fingers
that we’ll get a cold snap and the rain will cease and the ground will harden
and everything will work out fine, like it always does.
In preparation for those
perfect conditions, I spent part of Saturday and Sunday in the woods wearing
knee-high rubber boots, cutting and splitting several cords of basswood, maple,
and red oak.
Two companions helped the
time go faster.
On Saturday I worked with
the company of our Australian shepherd, Mackenzie. She is a faithful dog. She
and our other dog, Ida, walked out with me. Ida split for home after a few
minutes, but Mac sat down about 30 feet away and for four hours watched me
work.
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| Kenzie patiently waits, always alert to any change of plans. |
When I would stop for a
break and shut off the saw, I would call her over and she would gratefully
come, her whole hind end wagging, and we would talk and hug for a few seconds.
It’s a good feeling, having a loyal dog like that. It puts a bright spot on
what is often a cold and dreary job.
So does working with your
son. I asked Noah to help me on Sunday. He came reluctantly. He would rather
have spent his time strutting around the yard wearing his football shoulder
pads and flexing his muscles and pretending he was John Randle.
His job was to stand the
stove-length logs upright, and to split them if he could. If he couldn’t, then
at least the logs would be ready for me to split. That saves some bending for
me. His 12-year-old back has a few more bends in it than mine. If there is one
job that will give you a stiff back, it is splitting wood.
Noah had trouble splitting
the green maple. The axe got tangled in the underbrush more than once, and I
heard him grumble about it. He is discovering that underbrush is the mortal
enemy of making firewood. It nicks your cheeks, catches your saw, steals your
hat, and trips your feet.
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| Dad's worthy assistant. |
Tossing a piece of wood
gives you a good feeling, especially when you are frustrated with the
underbrush. You give a grunt and toss that hunk with an “Aargh!” and you feel
better. Don’t ask me why.
At first Noah worked
quietly, and when he is quiet, he is not happy. I watched his frustration with
trying to split some tough logs. But as the jobs progressed, as he split and
tossed and stacked and patiently fought the underbrush, his attitude changed.
He started to feel his
body work, his back, his forearms, his triceps and biceps and all those other
muscles that he knows by name.
You get a workout making
firewood. It’s a hard
job. But once you get into the rhythm of the job, you start to feel pretty good.
Then he started talking
about the Vikings, and about how this work was helping his muscles and I knew
he was doing fine. He talked and I listened. Once in a while I would say
“Yeah?” or “Right!” and that was all I needed to say.
He’s going to help me
again next Saturday. Mackenzie will too. Then we’ll get the Firewood Supply
under control, if the good Lord’s willing and the creek don’t rise.
