Amen Draplin! My parents moved us into a log house that used to be a tiny cabin which later had a big A-frame addition on one side. Best part is the entire place was to be heated by a Blaze King in the center of the original cabin. If ANY bedroom doors were closed (especially in the middle of winter) the temp. would hover just barely above 45-50 degrees. Living room, dining room, right inside the front door = hotter than hell. Anywhere else was a freakin’ icebox.
My chore was to anticipate how much wood needed to be hauled in every night, and split accordingly. I couldn’t do ANYTHING until this vital bit of work was done. It got to the point that if my friends wanted to take me out (for any of the various dumb shit we would do as teenagers) they started bringing axes and a change of clothes to help me with my daily duty. Chopping wood also became an excellent channeling of my teenage angst. Set the log up, visualize/channel rage, execute. By the time I was done there was a chopped chord of wood, I was too tired to be mad anymore and chores were done. A small part of me kinda misses that a little.

Fall is a great season for Wood/Water.
For that matter, Summer nights are good for it too.

cheers to that! Here’s some pots fired from a shity ton of split wood….you ever wanna relive the spledor I can hook you up with some cords and an axe

http://austingoodman.com/blog/

Last winter I bought a big axe, chopped the hell out of a ton of wood for burning. Might have been a whole cord. (Though I didn’t know the terminology at the time) We love the cold, campfires and anything that reminds me of my home in the Midwest.

Dig the chainsaw mark

…and snakes, i hate snakes. but these things “build character.”

I grew up doing the same in New Hampshire— three cords carried to the shed and then carried back into the house all winter long. And they were long winters.
Just bought 1/2 for my fire pit, but no wood burning stove in the Narrow House quite yet.
Thanks for bringing me back.

my dad used to live on a lake. He told me a story, one winter back in the 70’s, he cut down a tree, it fell on the ice, he drove his truck down to the boat launch, onto the ice, down to the fallen tree, chopped it up, loaded the truck, and back to the boat launch on the ice with the truck full of wood.

My Dad was a wood burner too, on the north side of Lake Erie, refused to use the furnace, a lot of cold mornings.

Hells yes. This post gave me afternoon-wood.

Long time reader, short time commenter.

I’m loving your wise words, and the passionate pictures. I’m a friend of Jonny A.’s, that’s how I found this fantastic place of the interwebs.

Keep the goodness coming.

I’m from New England, this pretty much sums up my childhood, and hell, I’m still doing it. Firewood sucks, but I really think it builds character, I don’t know, I just think I have an overall better perspective on life and appreciate the little things more because of it. I still think there is nothing better than sitting next to a hot wood stove on a cold ass night, the smell, the sound, just puts me to sleep.