Tiny creatures burrow and tunnel in wood

Tiny creatures burrow and tunnel in wood

The work around our house continues.  We’re deep in mid-winter chores.  I had to cancel a possible trip to the city tonight, as our wood room still needed to be filled.  We half finished it yesterday; today demanded full cooperation.

The newly-stacked wood still feels damp to the touch, so we’ve compiled a separate pile of the older dry wood next to the wood stove.  We’ll burn these fellas for a day or two before advancing upon the newly stacked piles.

I have nothing more to say about filling the wood room at this time.  You received the entire scoop reading yesterday’s entry.  (Except I forgot to share about emptying the ashes and chopping the kindling during the litany of wood-related activities.)

Therefore, you may hear what Henry David Thoreau had to say about his sojourn at Walden Pond in 1845.  Let’s peek in his book “Walden” and see if some similarities remain:

Every man looks at his wood-pile with a kind of affection.  I love to have mine before my window, and the more chips the better to remind me of my pleasing work.  I had an old axe which nobody claimed, with which by spells in winter days, on the sunny side of the house, I played-about with stumps which I had got out of my bean-field.  As my driver prophesied when I was ploughing, they warmed me twice, once while I was splitting them, and again when they were on the fire, so that no fuel could give more heat.

…Hard green wood just cut, though I used but little of that, answered my purpose better than any other.  I sometimes left a good fire when I went to take a walk in a winter afternoon; and when I returned three or four hours afterward, it would be still alive and glowing.  My house was not empty though I was gone.  It was as if I had a cheerful housekeeper behind.  It was I and Fire that lived there; and commonly my housekeeper proved trustworthy.

If Henry could wax poetically about wood and fire, so can we.  I am now tempted to think of the Fire burning in our wood stove as a cheerful trustworthy housekeeper.  We’ve paid that housekeeper with our labor, and she serves us well, looking after the house daily during these long gray winter days.