I always feel like we’re brothers who haven’t met. My family hails from the Ozarks of Arkansas. At age 8 it became my job to split and stack wood on the porch each day, though I grew up in the deep snows of Northern Michigan. Excellent work man.
I spend long hours splitting for my son's wood-fired pottery kiln. I find it hard to explain why I actually look forward to the splitting. A mountain of wood waiting to be split is just plain irresistible. Thanks for putting my thoughts and feelings into words.
Great article! It reminded me of my Dad. He never went to any gym either. He was tough as nails. For nearly all of his later years, he kept my Mom warm with a wood-fired hearth using mostly red oak that had already died on his neighbor's property. He noticed something was wrong with the red oak trees long before I heard any biologist talk about it.
Stunning essay, bud.
Thanks!
Oh lord, am I thankful for this!
And I am thankful for your kind words, Lily!
I always feel like we’re brothers who haven’t met. My family hails from the Ozarks of Arkansas. At age 8 it became my job to split and stack wood on the porch each day, though I grew up in the deep snows of Northern Michigan. Excellent work man.
Thanks!
And we’ll have to remedy that whole haven’t met thing someday.
A better ode to wood splitting has yet to be written. Mighty fine my friend, mighty fine.
Thanks, Tom!
I spend long hours splitting for my son's wood-fired pottery kiln. I find it hard to explain why I actually look forward to the splitting. A mountain of wood waiting to be split is just plain irresistible. Thanks for putting my thoughts and feelings into words.
Great article! It reminded me of my Dad. He never went to any gym either. He was tough as nails. For nearly all of his later years, he kept my Mom warm with a wood-fired hearth using mostly red oak that had already died on his neighbor's property. He noticed something was wrong with the red oak trees long before I heard any biologist talk about it.