The Pile of Wood, the One that Needs Splitting

The cold lingers; Yes, it really lingers and while I am prepared to deal with it, I am growing a touch weary. I am an outdoor person and at times feel it is completely necessary to breath outside air. I like to walkabout, piddle with my stuff, maybe hang in the cluttered engine-filled shop. But the wood pile is ever present in my world and I enjoy knowing there is work to be done.

In the summer wood boring grubs fall out of the oak and the minute I walk away for the broken mess a wren or some other worm feeder will come running. In the winter, I don't see the grubber birds, but with luck the larva will remain hidden somewhere to be consumed later.

In the last few day when the temperature hit a warm 15 or so, I went out and dug the wood pile to exposure, that is the unsplit pile, grabbed a bolt and split wood for a half hour. I then stacked it in the back wood shed. It is work but that is the entire idea. I just need to get the blood flowing and in reality, frozen wood splits easily, almost exploding from the contained ice. I do notice that bending over and picking up a 70 pound bolt in cold weather lacks the same pleasure it does in warm weather. Ya,, even in the summer it hurts. Muscles hurt,  bones creek, joints bitterly complain, but the spirit is good. In an antiquated way, the splitting of wood is righteous, it is worthy as Alvin Herzog used to say. It has genuine value and will provide for my well being. I am easily pleased.

The wood I am splitting was brought in late in the year before the snows. I had planned on getting into it, really, before the snowy part of winter arrived. Normally, there are days all winter long were it is comfortable to be out there banging away at the pile but this year has been very different. For a good two months most of the nights are below zero and the days in single digits or maybe in the teens. To top it off, the wind has been incessant, just enough to make life a little more miserable with it intended bit across the face.

This wood is not for this year, so in truth it could sit there unmolested, but it doesn't look good as a scattered  unorganized pile. It demands attention to be taken away and put in an organized place where, for me, it is more comfortable. So, I chew away at it, fighting the elements and the piled snow. At the age of seventy, it is getting more difficult and I can see a day when this business is going to come to an end. That will be another unhappy day as it is one of my most favorite hobbies. Maybe it is as the song says, "I don't mind the wind and cold, I just don't like the growing old."

So this year, if the snow ever leaves, I will be off to the woods and attempt to lay in many years of wood so that in the future I will still be able to sit by the fire in the winter. With a winter like this one, sitting by the fire is pleasure I do not want to lose.