If you’ve been here a while, you’ll remember when I talked incessantly (or so it must’ve seemed) about firewood. Every day, I was either cutting wood or splitting wood or stacking wood, or all of the above, for our woodstove and our fire pits.
Naturally, summer’s heat put a stop to that (at least for me), both the doing and the writing. And because processing cordwood is high on my list of favorite things, I’ve missed it.
We’re enjoying a stretch of cooler weather this week. When I saw that the temp was a refreshing 58°F this morning, I got the itch to sling some firewood.
And so I did. Just a little bit.
In deciding what to tackle, the obvious choice was the tornado-downed oak branch between the burn barrel and the road. The DeWalt chainsaw and I made short work of that — it was almost too easy.
I found myself feeling disappointed at how little wood the effort produced. Fortunately, there was another target right across the road.
That property is undeveloped, by the way, and the landowner lives out of state. Usually he comes in for deer season, though we didn’t see him last year. A stunted white oak had come down just inside his “gate” (a chain strung between a couple of t-stakes), and I’ve had my eye on it for a few months.
Now ordinarily ’round here, the right thing to do would be to cut up the fallen tree and take only half the wood, leaving the rest stacked neatly for the absent landowner. We’ve been instructed, however, to take whatever we want.
This particular oak didn’t yield a whole lot, but it was more than the downed branch I’d just cleaned up. Taken together, it was a respectable haul.
And it didn’t take much work.
I loaded the assortment of bucked lengths into the bed of the Ranger, trucked it back to the wood yard and stacked it on the last pallet I had available. Only four or five of the largest chunks eventually will need to be split. The rest can be burned as-is, including a fair portion that I’ll use mostly for kindling and coaling.
Everything I bring in from now until, say, January will season ’til at least the winter of 2025-26. After that, I move on to 2026-27.
This morning’s exercise was both satisfying and productive. It scratched my itch. I don’t mean to rush the season — I have a lot of work to do on the cabin before the snow flies — but I’m looking forward to chilly autumn days and puttin’ up more cordwood.
You might be wondering why I haven’t said anything about The Great Anti-American Festival underway this week in Chicago, otherwise known as the Democrat convention. There’s a simple explanation for that.
I don’t care.
I’m not watching it. I’m only vaguely aware of what’s happening in and around the hall. I am, for the most part, purposely ignoring the progressive bullshit.
By now I know everything I need to know about what Democrats have in mind for my country. Nothing that’s said or done in Chicago will inspire me to oppose their unmaking of America with any more vigor.
And so this week I’m managing my blood pressure and avoiding triggering my gag reflex. My time and my energy are better spent elsewhere.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable
#LetsGoBrandon #FJB