This story gave me both a good laugh and a bit of heebee-jeebees, remembering our 25 years of heating our houses with wood. I've never heard of top-down kindling fire starting though. That's a new one. Glad it worked for you. My husband and I had different ways of laying a bed of newspaper as tinder. I'd wad up pages and he would tear strips and shake them to open them up. I would set and burn fires everyday. Since he commuted long distance for work and only came home on weekends, he thought he was the master of fires. How in the world did I survive without him. Guess who's fires caught easily? And guess who cleaned out the wood stove and chimney every year?
Glad you likee the post. I am the high priest of fires in this household and as long as my wife is warm, there are no objections. Moving firewood is also good exercise, but stacked firewood also brings real or imagined tiny critters with it. Lumbermen of past centuries didn't have daily hot showers, but it's a luxurious indulgence after an afternoon of hauling wood.
There is indeed something to be said for having a generous pile of stacked wood near the door. Our Hobbit House in Truckee actually had a "wood room" right outside the front door to keep the wood dry and unburied from the huge snows that used to fall there. One storm buried us so deep we couldn't see daylight, but we could get to the wood and enjoyed a few days of silent warmth under the snow. Meanwhile, I think you'll get a kick out of one of the poems I'm posting today about critters in the woodpile. Stay safe and warm, Jordan.
This story gave me both a good laugh and a bit of heebee-jeebees, remembering our 25 years of heating our houses with wood. I've never heard of top-down kindling fire starting though. That's a new one. Glad it worked for you. My husband and I had different ways of laying a bed of newspaper as tinder. I'd wad up pages and he would tear strips and shake them to open them up. I would set and burn fires everyday. Since he commuted long distance for work and only came home on weekends, he thought he was the master of fires. How in the world did I survive without him. Guess who's fires caught easily? And guess who cleaned out the wood stove and chimney every year?
Glad you likee the post. I am the high priest of fires in this household and as long as my wife is warm, there are no objections. Moving firewood is also good exercise, but stacked firewood also brings real or imagined tiny critters with it. Lumbermen of past centuries didn't have daily hot showers, but it's a luxurious indulgence after an afternoon of hauling wood.
There is indeed something to be said for having a generous pile of stacked wood near the door. Our Hobbit House in Truckee actually had a "wood room" right outside the front door to keep the wood dry and unburied from the huge snows that used to fall there. One storm buried us so deep we couldn't see daylight, but we could get to the wood and enjoyed a few days of silent warmth under the snow. Meanwhile, I think you'll get a kick out of one of the poems I'm posting today about critters in the woodpile. Stay safe and warm, Jordan.