Chop your own wood and it will warm you twice

– Henry Ford

New Year’s Day is often spent recovering from the prior night’s celebrations, perhaps taking a leisurely day, or conversely cleaning, organizing, and planning for the new year. Some may take it as the first day during which to put into action any New Year’s resolutions. This New Year’s Day I chopped firewood.

A senior couple in Newport has opened their house to me, friends, and relatives for years. They’ve generously shared conversation, meals, and endless beverages. Last time I was visiting, I noted that their wood bins – all 4 of them – were bare. So I decided to split and stack the large pile of wood I’d seen covered and untouched in a year.

Splitting wood takes me back to my years growing up. The house I was raised in was heated entirely by wood fire as was a fair amount of our hot water. We had three wood stoves: one in our basement, one in our living room, and one in our bath house. One daily chore was to haul wood and kindling up the stairs to keep our wood bin supplied, as well as to start a wood fire in our living room fireplace. The bath house stove heated the water used in our kitchen, and its tall, narrow shape and relatively small opening required small pieces of firewood.

Countless days and weeks were spent sawing logs and splitting wood. Living on the beach, logs sometimes washed ashore. Out would come the chainsaws, wedges, and splitting mauls. Sometimes we’d spy logs floating in the bay, and we’d take a rowboat or kayak out, pound a spike into it, tie it with a rope, and tow it to shore to be cut and split.

The smell of fresh-cut wood, and the satisfying crack and creaking sounds of wood fibers being wrested apart, the pounding of my heart, and the dripping sweat on my brow bring back vivid memories from childhood of so many cords of wood cut, split, stacked, carried, and burned.

I also have vivid memories of wedges stuck in recalcitrant stumps, and the pounding of splitting mauls and sledge hammers, and the prying with bars and a peavay required to free them.

Happily, my friends had an electric power splitter. What an amazing a satisfying device! It was quiet and easily sliced through stumps filled with knots. No lifting and swinging an axe, splitting maul, or sledge hammer! So the majority of the physical labor was simply feeding the splitter, then removing and stacking the split wood.

Serendipitously, a couple of other friends had contacted me about some dried, cured, and cut firewood they needed to get rid of. They agreed to meet me in Newport, unload their truckload of wood, and help with the stacking and splitting.

A group of six of us (including an amazingly energetic and agile octogenarian) made quick work of the sizable task, and we finished after about 5 hours of work.

Although the weather forecast threatened 90% chance of rain and winds 15-25 mph, no raindrops fell and the wind was breezy, but mild. The sun even broke through momentarily, and the temperature remained right around 50 degrees, which was perfect for the strenuous labor.

My coastal friends were delighted to have a huge supply of fresh, dry firewood – probably enough to last at least two winters. There still is some wood left to split and stack, and I intend to finish that task myself the next couple times I come to the coast.

Some good physical labor and working together with friends to help some seniors feels like an auspicious way to bring in the new year. I am hopeful and optimistic for 2020, and hope you are as well.