The Woodshed

Deeper now, the length of tree trunk is almost cut in half.  Too green to burn, I'm trying to cut up the trunk, so the sections can dry in the wood shed.  Maybe these green trunks will be ready to burn in the spring.

Thunk!

I'm through, and the two halves of the trunk lay on either side of the chopping block. I'll toss these, along with some other scraps of limbs and small trees, along the interior woodshed wall. It's an old woodshed, with wide plank boards, carved with initials of past families. The dirt floor is lined with bark chips and fragments of wood, remnants of past winters.

Dry wood is stacked deep in one of the bays.  This wood we stacked (for the most part) this summer in neat rows near the driveway, covered with a tarp when it rained and exposed to the sun at other times. We worried whether it would be dry by the fall, or if the times we forgot to cover it from the rain would slow the drying process.  We needn't have worried. It made it fine.

So now I'm out in the shed, chopping up limbs and splitting occasional pieces too large for the stove. Every time I'm in the woodshed, getting the next load in for the stove and fireplace I size it up, this pile of stored-up warmth.  Do we have enough for the winter?

I guess we all must do it -- count the months left to the winter and estimate the rows of wood left in the shed.  And week by week, we keep reassessing the burn rate. So, I'll load up the wood cart and distribute the wood in the rooms where it's needed. I see there's snow in the air today but the temperature is near 30, so not a bad day, after all.  I'll keep a weather ear to the radio and an eye on the digital weather station gadget for those really cold nights.  Nights when a few extra pieces of wood end up on the fire.  Nights I hope we don't see many of this winter, but probably will.

By April, I'm sure the pile in the woodshed will be dwindling as quickly as the snow drifts shrinking from the base of the house. Then we'll order more wood and start the cycle over again.