Burn, Baby, Burn

John 15:6 King James Version (KJV)

6 If a man abide not in me, he is cast forth as a branch, and is withered; and men gather them, and cast them into the fire, and they are burned.

Having trees on the property is certainly a blessing.  In the summer, we enjoy the shade.  We are always picking up sticks and limbs that fall from our trees.  In the winter, we like to burn campfires to keep warm or just to sit and relax watching the flames devour the wood.  This weekend we set fire to a wood pile that is in the eastern side of the pasture in front of the barn.  I got a bench for us to sit on as the sun went down.

The hens are going to miss the woodpile.  Some of them roost on it at night.  They'll have to find a new spot.  Some of them lay eggs beneath it, too.  We find them and are unsure if they are still good, so our dogs end up being recipients of the eggs found in the woodpile.

Sitting in front of the fire would have been really peaceful, but an unpleasant aroma kept wafting over.  It took a minute for us to figure out what it was.  When we moved the chicks out of the brooder in the garage and into the chicken tractor, we collected all the pine shavings mixed with poop that was on the bottom of the brooder.  Our intent was to trench compost it in the garden, but we haven't gotten around to it yet. 

As the fire grew, we had to move the bench.  Although it was a cool evening, the roaring fire was putting out some awesome heat.

When the wood pile is gone, it will be one less obstacle to walk around when going to the barn.  When trying to catch the calf, sometimes he plays a game of running away from you and running round and round the woodpile.

As the fire burned, I circled it and kicked errant sticks into the center of the fire so they would burn completely. 

We marveled at the tongues of flame dancing in the fire and talked about how only God could create something like that.

The fire was consuming all of the wood that was in the pile and the flames grew higher and higher.  We moved our bench again and again to get away from the incredible heat.

In the morning, there was nothing left to the pile but some smoldering ashes. 

The Woodpile

It may seem a little odd to be talking about firewood when temperatures still hover in the mid - 90's and sweat quickly moistens your shirt by merely walking outside. Preparing for the future must be done, regardless of the season.  Goofy television shows have been produced that show 'preppers' in a kooky and unfavorable light, but truthfully, being prepared is just old fashioned wisdom.  That wood isn't going to split itself!

Be Prepared has been the Boy Scout Motto since 1907, but the idea of preparing is one that began many, many years before.  People had to prepare in order to survive. Survival is a great motivator. Despite relatively mild winters in south Louisiana, we still put up firewood to get us through the winters.  Putting up firewood is not a fun task, but one that must be done.  If one works in the summer, he can enjoy the warmth in the winter.

Our Woodpile (and a fat hen and rooster)

Speaking of warmth, Henry David Thoreau is credited as saying:

"Wood warms you twice, once when you cut it and again when you burn it!"

Last summer we had some water oak trees that were attacked by beetles and consequently died.  A friend of mine offered use of his chain saw and we carefully felled the oak trees, cut them up and stacked the logs in a nice stack.  There they sat for months, mocking me - "Stop procrastinating," they said.  "Come split us," they remarked.  Finally a month ago, I got out my ax, splitting wedge and sledge hammer and split all the oak logs up.  Mr. Thoreau was right - I was "warmed" splitting the firewood in July!

If you'll notice in the photo above, the wood is a grey color.  This color suggests that the wood has weathered or seasoned over the past year.  This wood will burn nicely. I tried to split the logs when the trees were initially cut, and the ax head bounced off of the green, uncured wood like a kid on a trampoline.  Once the wood dried it was much easier to split it up - except around the knots in the wood.  I kept my eyes on the prize as I worked, thinking about how nice it would be when the temperatures are 65 degrees colder and this wood would keep us warm and entertained while sitting in front of a roaring fireplace.

As I was splitting the logs, the chickens surrounded me, getting in my way and causing me to continuously shoo them away.  You see, a woodpile becomes a habitat for all sorts of insects, worms, and critters.  As soon as I would move a log, the ground was teeming with delicious morsels for the happy hens to devour.  I stacked the split firewood atop pipes to keep them from contacting the ground to avoid rotting.  The pipes that the wood is stacked on are re-purposed support poles from the kids' childhood swing set that I dismantled this summer, evidencing the fact that there's no such thing as retirement - even for a swing set!

Finally, I topped the wood pile with a blue tarpaulin to protect the wood (somewhat) from the rains that will come between now and when we finally light up the fireplace around Thanksgiving.  We'll likely go through this stack of wood this winter and then next summer, we'll start all over again.

A Few More Fires in the Fireplace Before Spring

Sunday the rains started... again.  There is a high probability of rain every day this week with temperatures in the upper 70's.  On Wednesday night, though, the weather will once again change as another front will blow through bringing freezing temperatures with it.  The weatherman said wind chills could be in the high 20's. So before the rain started, I filled up a wagon load of firewood and stacked it under the patio where it will be dry once the rain starts.

This is all the firewood that is left over from the big water oak tree that we took down in the front yard and split up.  It has lasted us for a long time, keeping us warm and cozy through three winters. A small group of hens roosts on the wood pile every night.  They'll soon be looking for a new spot to roost once the pile disappears. The wood pile has also provided a place for Annie, the goat, to climb up on and thus given good exercise for me as I have to re-stack the woodpile after she knocks the wood down - an almost daily occurrence.

The dwindling wood pile

When the chickens see me heading to the wood pile with the wagon, they come running.  They know that the buffet line is about to open.  The wood pile is also home to numerous roaches and big, white grub worms and that is prime eating for the chickens.  Although safe underneath the stack of wood, once I start removing the wood, insects and worms are unearthed and exposed to the hungry chickens who scratch and promptly devour them.  By the time they are finished, the ground is scratched clean.

Cleaning things up

The woodpile is near the end.  Not to worry, though.  We have another stack from the three smaller water oak trees that we took down this summer.  The boys and I will split it and stack it to burn next winter.

Fuel for next year

As I type this entry tonight, I'm sitting in front of a fire that was roaring 45 minutes ago, warming all in the room.  I was shelling pecans while talking to the family, relaxing and winding down for the night.  Now all that is left of the fire is some glowing embers, still putting out heat, but fading fast.

A cozy fire

Just like me!  Goodnight all...