Before I get into anything else here today, I want to say something that’s long overdue — a big thank you to my regular readers. Y’all have become a constant for me, seen and unseen, known and unknown.
You know who you are. I’m grateful for you.
. . .
I will never, ever be a social-media woodsman. You can make book on that.
I’ve seen who’s out there slingin’ axes and runnin’ saws, and I sure as hell don’t fit. Lord knows I’m not some hunka-hunka-beefcake. I’m not a Canadian lesbian, either, last time I checked. And I have no interest in auditioning for the Darwin Awards.
No, just give me my slow pace, the joy of hard work and the practical skills necessary to heat my home. I’m good.
. . .
Tuesday’s pile of log lengths called my name yesterday morning. The temperature and I both had trouble warming up, so I got an uncharacteristically late start.
But I did get there. And for this job, I hitched my utility cart to the Ranger — I knew that if I had any shot at bringing it all back in one trip, I’d need the capacity.
As I began bucking, I took note of a couple of things. First was the condition of the wood itself. I’d speculated that it was 80% to 90% solid, and it didn’t disappoint.
Once it’s seasoned, it’ll make outstanding firewood.
Second, I set things up so that I wouldn’t have to carry armloads of wood down a 20% slope to the roadside. I cleared away seedlings and saplings, cutting them flush with the ground, and I removed loose rocks.
Basically, I created a 35-foot chute from where the wood sat to where I wanted it to be. Here’s a look from the top end, by the pile:
It was a simple matter of bucking a little, putting down the saw and pitching lengths in the direction of the cart. The chute worked perfectly. By the time I was done, my aim was dead-on.
I’m glad I brought the cart. I filled it to capacity and strapped the load down, and still I had to toss several big rounds into the Ranger’s bed.
I’d just snapped that photo when I realized that I also had a five-foot cedar trunk (aka “pole wood”) to haul back. I set it on top of the cartload and secured it with tarp straps.
I unloaded the bucked lengths at the wood yard but didn’t do any stacking.
That’ll wait for another day.
Before walking away, however, I took some swings at a few of the larger rounds, which will need to be split before I stack them. I wanted to gauge the battle ahead.
I needn’t have been concerned. The red oak split like a dream.
So, after yesterday’s effort, stacking and some splitting remain before this harvest begins seasoning. And I still have that widowmaker to contend with. But it was great to get this wood to the yard.
By the way, I noticed something kinda cool about the few rounds I split yesterday. Here’s a tight crop of the image above:
See those black lines and squiggles? That’s called spalting, which is produced by colonies of fungi in the sapwood. Such figuring is prized by wood turners in making bowls and other vessels, as well as pen barrels and handles of all kinds.
It’s also evidence (or probable cause, at least) of why this crown came crashing down.
Take care of yourselves, Patriots. Stay calm. Stay sharp. Stay free.
#WiseUp #LibertyOrDeath #Ungovernable