The Timelessness of Heating with Wood. By Deena Dawn Larsen

When I take time to reflect, I think I am most myself when I am in the woods. I feel more connected to the earth, for obvious reasons. When I go to The Land, I can return to my roots. Sitting in a quiet woods I am aware that the trees surrounding me are living beings, some that have been around for longer than I have. They have character, style, and show growth. I never feel lonely there as I am among friends. Who among us doesn't have a favorite tree? I have been a fan of trees and their lifeblood since I read J.R.R. Tolkein when I was in sixth grade. The character, Treebeard, one of the Ents, resonated with me. The fact that the trees provide warmth to me when I am at the Earth Home makes them all the more special. One way they provide warmth at The Land is shielding me from the strong north winds of winter.

They say that when one heats with wood they heat themselves multiple times.  One is warmed when the wood is cut, split, hauled, and burned.  While it may be easier to turn up the dial on the thermostat, there is something primal about being responsible for one's own heat.  Don't get me wrong, when I am cold, I'd like nothing better than to have instant warmth. But much like I want to know where my food comes from, I want to know the source of my heat. There are times when I am putting a log on the fire that I recall the circumstances of when I gathered or split that particular piece of wood.

For starters, when heating with wood, one has to plan ahead.  A wood supply needs to be secured long before winter sets in.  To do it correctly, wood should dry for at least a year.  In addition to bigger logs, one needs sticks and medium size pieces to build a fire. I enjoy gathering kindling on the forest floor.  This used to be my Mom’s job when she was living at the Land.  I still use some of the same boxes that she used and follow in her steps. Being in the woods on a nice Autumn day gathering twigs to store inside is a satisfying task. Storing wood necessitates that one be aware of time.

During the time my father was working as a physician, he refrained from using power tools of any kind.  His hands and fingers were his livelihood.  Later on, he became adept at using chainsaws.  I have not been using a chainsaw but I know it is in my future. With 24 acres, there are always downed trees that can be cut up for wood. I never have to cut down green trees. In this way, I feel that we are using what nature is providing. The only time I recall cutting a live tree was when I needed a freshly cut oak tree for my mushroom logs.  I selected one that was stunted in the shadow of two other mature trees.  But still, I felt I had to thank the tree and apologize.  I didn't feel right killing a tree. Just yesterday I worked on a downed hickory tree that had fallen on part of an unused woodshed a couple of years ago. Often I will sit in the woods, usually near Dad's spot, nestled among the trees on the Remembrance Path. I think of my ancestors who came before me and of the indigenous people who were here long before that. I can get lost in time, staring up at the sky through the branches. Listening to the Amish wagons on the road, I can easily be transported back to days of old. The sound of the wind blowing through the trees is calming.

Dad was several years ahead with his wood supply. He had cords of it stashed away in various buildings. He would mark the year he put the wood there with a numeral on the end so that he could properly rotate his supply. A couple weeks ago, I found a stash he put there in 2001! From this I learned that another way wood can warm a person is from the heart. Here I am, almost three years since Dad passed away, and he is still providing me comfort. I owe a thank you to Mother Nature for keeping me warm; I owe one to Dad as well.

It takes time to cultivate the nuances of wood heating.  Different types of wood burn in certain ways.  I am fortunate to be spending time in a hardwood forest.  There are lots of oak and hickory around.  Thanks to my scouting days, I can easily start a fire. Once the fire is established, I enjoy looking at my woodpile and determining the next pieces to get added. I use certain ones early on to get a good blaze and build coals. Once there is a decent coal base, a nice big log of hickory can last a long time. Much like turning down the thermostat, putting the right log on the fire before bed can help the temperature taper down slowly. And in the morning, there are still coals around to rekindle the fire.

One of the reasons I come here to the woods to live for extended periods is to restore the balance that seems to disappear when I am living in modern society.  My mind is quieted; I become more observant and aware. Balance shows itself in small ways.  The wood stove that is heating my space, at this moment, is also drying the laundry that I have hanging in front of it, cooking the potatoes in the cast iron Dutch oven on top of it, and boiling water in a tea kettle for my tea.  It is also drying the hot peppers I strung together and hung on the line, much like a string of holiday lights.

The Earth Home where I stay has no other heating source as a back-up, other than passive solar. It can take a while to heat the space. One of my favorite things to do is get the fire started and then sit in the wood stove room reading or writing, surrounded by warmth. Other times, I am content to stare into the fire, getting lost in the dancing flames of time. A burning flame can be mesmerizing or hypnotic. As people, we have stories to share. Trees are much the same way. Sometimes when I am cutting wood or getting ready to put the next log on the fire, I look at the rings; I see some of that tree's story. And much like a log thrown in a hot wood stove, our own stories are snuffed out all too soon, returned to the ashes of the earth. It is imperative that we make the most of our time and provide as much warmth and comfort as we can, in a myriad of ways.