I have been pondering on things lately, especially during the week that I didn’t need to write a column. At times in the past, column writing has been the only time I had to think about things and try to put them into perspective.

That’s all changing now with wood cutting season beginning. I get more thinking time during wood cutting that almost any other time.

I had two worries that were foremost on my mind as the nights get colder and longer. First, my woodstove was sitting on my front porch and not in my living room with a flue pipe running outside.

Secondly, there was no firewood stacked outside my house to put in the stove even if it had been in the house.

Therefore, I decided to take the opportunity this past Saturday to try and rectify those problems. I started by buying a load of oak from my niece’s husband. He had some good dry stuff that he cut earlier this year. I should have been more prepared myself, but I have been running so much this year, I don’t know how I could have done any more.

That load in hand, I also had a friend direct me to a place where I could cut up some dead wood, some standing and some on the forest floor. I ended up with a truck load of that stuff and have more to go back and get. Finally, I also got started disassembling the old apple tree at my parents’ house. The apples were the biggest I have ever seen, even bigger than the red delicious ones I usually see in the grocery store. It figures that the tree would fall just when it reached the peak of its production.

As I fired up my chainsaw and starting cutting through the apple, the smell of the freshly cut wood and the brisk feel to the evening air all brought back pleasant memories for me — and some unpleasant ones. Like the time I nearly sliced through my boot with the chainsaw while not paying attention, or the time I slipped and fell down the bank in the snow, or the time that I cut through my jeans when I slipped in wet leaves. Hopefully, I have grown wiser and more careful, if not less clumsy. On the brighter side, I can also remember many years past getting out into the woods to fell trees and stack them up neatly around the house. There is also a mind-clearing aspect of manual labor that I can appreciate, as well as comfort in knowing that you have enough wood to last through the winter. It’s almost a feeling of peace with the elements, like saying, “Bring on the snow, I’m ready.”

I really enjoy cutting firewood, a fact that my neighbor found hard to believe. “You’re the first one I ever heard say that,” he said. I might feel differently if I had to do it every day.

We talked about it after I hired him to help me put in the new flue through the living room ceiling. I thought I would be putting the pipe through the roof and the neighbor would help, but he actually was better at carpentry work that I am. Not that I am a master carpenter, but I have been doing this sort of thing for a number of years and I am always pleased to be able to watch a more able carpenter at work. As it worked out, he did most of the work and I assisted him.

There were a few things that I managed to pick up from him, but mostly I got he opportunity to admire his abilities. I recorded some of his methods for future knowledge.

Meanwhile, a friend stopped by and helped me move my woodstove in the house.

I left the neighbor on the roof of the house, replacing some of my shingles around the pipe to cover the flashing and covering all the seams with silicone. It really turned out to be a very neat job.

My concern about moving the heavy stove turned out to be ill founded. It slipped inside the house with hardly any major strain. After we jacked it up on a floor jack high enough to pass over the threshold, we then pushed it onto an upside-down floor mat. The mat allowed the stove to slide right in. After quite a bit of manipulation, we managed to get it over to the opening, put it on the stove mat and center it under the hole through the ceiling. After the stove was set with a plumb bob, I assembled the pipe and screwed everything in place. Once it was there, I thought, “I hope I never have to move that heavy joker again.”

By that evening, I lit a few papers and watched the draft nearly suck them up the chimney. That told me everything was working just fine.

I still need at least four more loads of firewood and I’d rather get it done soon than wait for really cold weather. Cutting firewood is the last thing I want to be thinking about when snow and the temperatures start falling.

That means I’ll have lots to do for the next month, but cutting wood will help me get exercise and mental rest. I need more of both, as testified to by my frazzled wit and growing belly.

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