Ed Wood.
Now is the winter of my wood.
Come late October, not much needs done on the farm, farming-wise. Things need fixing, yeah, but crops don’t need cared for and no one is giving birth on purpose. The beefs just need enough sustenance to stay healthy and alive.
So we find other ways to occupy our time. Given the chance I’d probably sleep in and lounge about and play golf on the computer and read. My dad’s favorite time-eater is gathering firewood.
This is a pile of firewood.
This is a pile of firewood two days past that last pile. This picture is three days old. The pile is much bigger now.
People still heat their homes (or shop or garage as often as, now) with wood. It’s a shock, I know, but there it is. Up until this last winter, my parents home was always heated with wood. Our farm has three little woods lingering about the edges. The main woods we had logged out to finance my dad’s airplane. Loggers take logs. Loggers leave treetops. Free wood for the taking. We bought a small bit of land that adjoined ours. Mostly it was awful fields, but also included was a tiny bit of woods that had been utterly raped by other loggers. Who left the tops.
This is what we are cutting and splitting. And selling. It takes up about 4 hours of the day, six days a week, barring inclement weather.
Come late October, not much needs done on the farm, farming-wise. Things need fixing, yeah, but crops don’t need cared for and no one is giving birth on purpose. The beefs just need enough sustenance to stay healthy and alive.
So we find other ways to occupy our time. Given the chance I’d probably sleep in and lounge about and play golf on the computer and read. My dad’s favorite time-eater is gathering firewood.
This is a pile of firewood.
This is a pile of firewood two days past that last pile. This picture is three days old. The pile is much bigger now.
People still heat their homes (or shop or garage as often as, now) with wood. It’s a shock, I know, but there it is. Up until this last winter, my parents home was always heated with wood. Our farm has three little woods lingering about the edges. The main woods we had logged out to finance my dad’s airplane. Loggers take logs. Loggers leave treetops. Free wood for the taking. We bought a small bit of land that adjoined ours. Mostly it was awful fields, but also included was a tiny bit of woods that had been utterly raped by other loggers. Who left the tops.This is what we are cutting and splitting. And selling. It takes up about 4 hours of the day, six days a week, barring inclement weather.
posted by Lord of the Barnyard at 7:33 PM
8 Comments:
I like your life the way you tell it, too. I also grew up in a house that was wood-heated, but I was a Girl, so I wasn't asked to chop wood, merely to endure the heavy grudge of not chopping it. The smell of wood-smoke complicates my feelings to this day.
One fall, my father thought that (as we had a wood stove in th living room), we should gather as much wood as we possibly could just in case something happened. The wood is still sitting in our shed. This was ten years ago.
lucky you janet. sometimes something does happen. two winters ago there was an awful ice storm the day before christmas that left us without electricity, water, or heat for eight days. i spent my christmas that year gathering wood.
I love it when you talk about your wood. I would also love to see your wood, so long as Pruitt doesn't mind.
Lotb:
One of the best things about your site are your winter photos. I wish Seattle winters were so pretty. Just gray and rainy here (although today the sun is out. For a little while). Please be sure to snap a few good shots when it snows. Maybe some night time shots?
Do you remember the Eddie Wooden Fingers Memorial Band?
I remember the Eddie Wooden Fingers Memorial Band.
I wish eddie wooden fingers would come back. Times are different now, but that smooth sound that eminated from East Knox was something cool and different from the other bs that listened to.
I miss those days.
Post a Comment
<< Home