Winter Rhythms

As we slide into winter I become even more aware of the continuity of our life, or more specifically our life on this land.  We began to see the fruits of our summer labor.  Hay and straw in the barn for the cows, food preserved, or in that state of waiting called a pantry, and the thing that is most on my mind these days.  Wood.

Nice stack art, Hangdog.

In the winter months our seasoned wood stockpile keeps us warm, preheats our water, and cooks our food.  This doesn’t even take into account that our wood supply cleans up storm damage, manages the forest by taking out diseased trees or gives us lots of  meaningful exercise.

Our wood cookstove is very important to me for sentimental reasons.  It’s been here since it was new in 1917 and only out of service for a month or two in 1984 while being refurbished for the next six or seven decade run.  Pots and pans come and go, but the stove and the stove work remain.

Our cookstove habits just may represent the best stacking yet in our lifestyle.  I live in the Pacific Northwest on the western slopes of the Cascade Range.  It rains here a lot.  100 inches a lot.  A fire is a must most days from October – June.  With the fire in the cookstove, I can accomplish a lot more than just cooking a meal.

On any given day:

♥  The stockpot is always on the stove, kind a catch-all for all the vegetable trimmings, bones etc., from food preparation.

♥  The tea kettle is always hot, and providing humidity.

♥  Beans can soak on the cool edge, or cook if placed on the warm middle.

♥  Meals are cooked.

♥  Seeds may be drying in the warming oven.  (doors open, of course)

♥ Jerky may be drying in the oven.   (door open, of course, or the jerky becomes sawdust and a snack for the fire.)

♥ The honey and molasses aren’t sluggish because they are on the corner of the stove out of the way.  Not hot, not cold, but just right.

♥  Socks and gloves may be drying on the rack above the stove.

♥  And my brain is engaged thinking about what kind of kitchen wood I need for the tasks of that particular day.  Hot wood for cooking, round wood for simmering, or a mix.  Will I be outside for hours, and need more simmering or will I be there all day close by and can use mediocre, punky pecker wood?  The nuances are endless.  My woodpile to me is viewed with special glasses, whether it is in the shed, or in the woodbox next to the stove.  I can’t be wasteful and use all my hot wood for simmering, and I can’t  expect pecker wood to fry hash browns either or bring a kettle to a boil in a timely fashion.

♥  And it keeps us warm, while heating half the house, with minimum amount of wood.

Looks like CVG to me it’s so tight.  Douglas Fir limb wood.    Or in new woods lingo  – that  is one BAL!  Big Ass Limb.

The coniferous forest zone we live in is the Western Hemlock (Tsuga heterophylla) zone.  Western Hemlock is the dominate species if this was a climax forest, however forest fires (the worst in 1902) and logging have “cleared” the way for Douglas Fir (Pseudosuga menziesii) to slip down the mountain slopes and proliferate.  On parts of our farm where succession has been allowed to proceed, Western Hemlock is the dominate species showing up again.  Doghair Hemlock is the common term in these parts because it reseeds so thick when allowed.  Personally I am glad to be living in this blip of time of forest building, lots of Douglas Fir and only a little Hemlock.   I split wood daily, and I would rather gouge my eyes out (well, that is an exaggeration) than split Hemlock firewood.  No matter how clear it is, it works you, hard.

We burn predominately fir, because that is what grows here.  The tree is was a little older than me before a windstorm toppled it.  If you look at the growth rings you can see the different stages and weather patterns this tree experienced.  This piece is destined for the furnace, but not before I bust off the corners for kindling or kitchen wood.  See, this tree was full of life when it died, it will burn hot.  A good candidate for some kitchen wood.  How do I know it was alive?  Well, partly because I know this tree, where it grew as I did, and how it died like I hope to.  Quick and fast, and where I live.  Besides all that sappy stuff, (and I don’t mean the pitch) I can tell by the color, the condition of the bark, and the scent of the wood.  It smells alive, compared to an old buckskin that is missing its bark, and its bite (as in fire.)  I like buckskins too, for usually they are clear and easy to split and they moderate the hot wood when you don’t need such a rip-roaring fire.  Each type and piece of wood is appreciated and used to the best of my knowledge.

The chores of tending a fire seem onerous to some in these days of central heat and cooling.  Besides heating and cooking, our fires provide ashes for the gardens, or entertainment for pups who seem to think the ash scraper is a varmint in the stove.  Every time I clean out the ash tray, they are there to “help.”  It might make me seem kind of slow to get enjoyment from such a simple thing as cleaning out a firebox or reading the wood pile, but it is simply living, simply.