Weekend Update

Fall didn’t start well. It kicked in the door with a week of cold, shitty, rainy, muddy, weather. It tracked depression all over my floor, keyed my car, and drank the last of my beer. It was unwelcome!

It made me antsy. The last few winters kicked my ass and I’m not ready for the next battle. I wandered about the house muttering “winter is coming”.

Finally, the weather broke enough that I could get back outside. I was frantic to go play and simultaneously stack a thousand cords of firewood. I decided to ant my inner grasshopper and stack more wood.

I went another round against the big tree that I’d already felled onto my yard. I’m rather proud I’ve been “cleaning as I go”. Already most of the crown, limbs, and twigs are gone. Anything bigger diameter than a cheap coffee can is good enough to burn. I’ve already bucked, hauled and stacked all of it. (I prefer limbwood sized firewood; “topwood” is the best!) Anything smaller than a coffee can but larger than a big cigar has been burned to ash (on my lawn of privilege). Anything smaller than a cigar won’t jack up my lawnmower so fuck it.

A week’s rain had made everything into a sponge. Before I knew it, I had ruts everywhere. I hope they don’t jack up my mower next year.

Meanwhile the trunk is yielding heavy 2+’ diameter rounds. They’re a royal PITA. Technically it takes a while for water to soak deep into a hefty chunk of wood. The wood didn’t get the memo and it felt twice as dense as the week before.

I struggled to get each piece to my splitter (which goes to eleven). Then, I encountered some internal rot. Partly-rotten firewood sucks but it’s not a deal breaker. I’m not making furniture with it! It’s only fuel, so a little punky stuff is totally fine. On the other hand there’s a point of diminishing returns. I’m not going to bust my ass stacking and drying material that’ll never be much more than a smoldering sponge.

So I split chunks and kept about 80% of the resulting material. What a hassle; like ripping moldy corners off a slice of bread to make a sandwich with the remaining portion. Soon I had a sizeable pile of crap beneath & surrounding the splitter. Meanwhile I was driving back and forth with small loads to my woodshed and it seemed like no progress was getting made. Some days are like that.

Progress was slow, wet, and unsatisfying. I’m still shy of 3 full cords. Damn it!

Around sunset I’d had enough. I stowed my saw and gear. I shifted gears to carrying around a glass of bourbon with tea. Then I touched off the icky mess that marked the splitter’s working spot.

It was wet and took some prodding to get it going. I rested in a lawn chair while the sun set. I relaxed in the gloom as the fire mostly smoldered. Our outdoor cat (demoted years ago from indoor cat) sat on my lap and purred. I dozed fitfully.

All around me the forest woke up. Lots of creepy crawly sounds. Mind you, I was a couple hundred feet from my house and sitting next to a fire, so there’s nothing to worry about. Anything with brains will steer clear of “man in the forest” and anything that doesn’t might get walloped with my shovel.

This night, the forest didn’t give a shit and got aggressively “jungly”. A deer snorted at me challengingly. WTF? I spoke aloud to the forest. “You’re a herbivore and I have a freezer full of your relatives. Did you not see the fire from 100 yards and smell it from a quarter mile? Leave me and the cat alone.” The deer had been stuck in the rain all week too. It wanted access to my apple trees and wasn’t subtle about it. Tough shit Bambi.

It’s been so wet. Frogs came out of the woodwork. (When I have more chickens I have fewer frogs.) A few bats came by. The smoke (and one of my trusty Thermacells!) kept the mosquitoes at bay but something mammalian that was larger than a softball and smaller than a football kept rooting around the edge of my vision. Muscrat? Zombie? Fuck it, I was drunk by then anyway.

Then a stray cat that’s been hanging around (provisionally named “Interloper Cat”) came up to sit by the fire. Our pre-existing demoted outdoor cat and the new interloper cat interacted by screeching and posturing pointlessly; like Republicans and Democrats jockeying for position. I ignored the racket as I stumbled around looking for my bourbon. (I don’t use flashlights very often.) When the coyotes started howling both cats forgot their animosity and crowded close to my lawn chair; instant friends. “Ah”, thought I, “an external enemy makes interesting bedfellows.”

Eventually the wood was gone and I’d had enough bourbon. It was a pleasant if somewhat creepy crawly night.