February 22, 2003

If a Woodchuck Could Chuck

It's a sad day in Mudville. Mighty Casey has struck out. My perfect record for one-match fires ended this morning because the wood is wet and this has certainly put a damper on my manly self-esteem... the price I pay for being so puffed up, earlier in the winter, at the quantity, quality and sheer aesthetic wonder of my ample and well-thought-out woodpile.

We've had a much colder-than-normal winter. Unlike winters past, this year somebody (me) has been in the house most days during the week, so instead of firing the woodstove at 7:30 to last until 5:30 in the afternoon, it's been fed continuously, 24/7 since late September. Add to that the fact that we've had snow/slush/mud since early December... a time when I would have been laying by next year's wood, or the year after's ... in a typical year. There was a time I would have done it, but this year, the idea of slipping and sliding around while operating a chainsaw has left me, well, cold.

What wood that's piled over here at the house is either wet from where the snow got to it, or it's 'body wood' that will have to be split before it's burned; and the kindling pile is almost gone. Over in the barn, there's still some scraps of old siding and flooring I salvaged from the house reconstruction a couple years ago, but it won't do for more than firestarter kindling. Spring can't come too soon to suit me. Even so, we'll need a bit of heat on into late April-early May, so the woodburning season is far from over.

Image copyright Fred First In the picture you can see how I store my wood, in teepee fashion, over in the pasture. I just cut this little bunch up last week, got one truckload over here between snows, and the remainder is buried once again and frozen to the ground. It's nice to see the green again and remember my love-hate relationship with grass mowing and summer heat. Ann likes to mow. Go figure. You can see a bit of the AT (no, not Appalachian Trail... the Annie Trail) that wifey keeps up, cutting a swath around the perimeter of the pasture and down the old road we follow in our daily walk, so as to keep the dew off, and hopefully, most of the ticks, come summer. And come it will. And I'll be getting in firewood when I should be gardening. Such is life.

Posted by fred1st at February 22, 2003 07:02 AM | TrackBack
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