I’m About to Run Out of Firewood

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I am about to run out of firewood, and it is only mid-January. Not good.

So, you might be asking, what does that have to do with anything?

Thanks for asking.

Back in ’74, when Jane and I had one child, another on the way, I decided to build a house. I borrowed some money from my mother and Jane’s parents and bought a piece of land just south of Highway 30, an acre half covered with woods. I believe the acre cost $6000. The house was nestled at the edge of the woods.

A few years later I installed an airtight, wood burning stove. It was one of those with cast iron doors you could open to sit gazing at the fire or close to really generate heat. The house was designed to be “open concept:” one spacious room open to the kitchen, open to the 2^nd story loft, with small bedrooms on two exterior walls.  The stove would heat the whole house even on subzero days. I loved it.

But stocking up enough wood is a lot of work. I wasn’t about to buy it! To be a successful wood burner, you must have a chain saw, splitting axe, a pick-up truck, a place to store the wood, and discretionary time. 

I loved the process: find a dead tree, hopefully already on he ground. Cut it up into 16-18” lengths…load it into the truck…fix the chain saw a couple times…drive home…unload…split and stack the wood…and wait while the sun and wind dry the split firewood.

Then burn it. To keep the gas furnace from running, the stove had to be fed every couple hours and the ashes cleaned out every couple days. With a full-time job and eventually four children, I couldn’t keep up with all the demands of full-time wood burning, so we enjoyed it on cold, snowy nights and paid NIPSCO the rest of the time.

But now, being semi-retired, I try to heat full-time with wood. I save on energy, according to the environmentalists DO NOT contribute to climate change, and thoroughly enjoy the entire process.

What a joy it is to go out into the woods for three or four hours and end up with a stack of wood just outside my door which will heat the house for a few days. I get to listen to the soft sounds of the crackling fire. If I am reading and get cold, I just move closer to the fireplace.

Late a night, I will stock up the fireplace, get out the guitar and play quietly for a while and then go to bed. In the morning there will still be coals glowing. 

In a culture dominated by smart phones, long commutes to work, sitting at a desk and a screen all day, and unwelcome news 24/7 on the TV, the process of wood burning is therapeutic. I see and feel the consequences of my effort. I consider this aspect of my life to be a privilege. Sure, it takes work, but even that feels good.

In contemporary America, this kind of welcome, callous creating lifestyle is a privilege. I DON’T have to split wood to keep warm. The furnace goes on automatically if I neglect the stove. But the option to engage in this visceral, healing activity is not available to the urban poor, or even the small-town poor.

Just a thought. Now I am off to find some wood.

-Paul Schreiner, Jan 22, 2022

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