Essay | Putting Up Firewood: A Family Affair

AMHERST TOWNSHIP, FILLMORE COUNTY—Shorter days, frosty mornings, bare cornfields and blaze orange in the woods. We all know what’s coming. 

I find an extra hustle in my step these November weekends as I work to batten down the farmstead before the true onset of winter. My seasonal grand finale is stacking firewood in the shed so I can draw from it through the coldest months.

At our farm, firewood is supplemental heat. That takes the pressure off the constant sprint to keep the wood piled high and the wood stove warm. The stove was a recent installation, so I still count myself a novice at indoor wood burning, but I’ve improved my skills with each season. 

In fact, last winter I think the smoke detectors went off only twice, and frankly, we need to test them a couple of times a year anyway so I’m not confident there is much room for improvement. 

The true test at how well I’m doing was preseason stove pipe cleaning, in which I barely brushed out enough creosote to fill a small coffee mug. I shared a picture with my uncle Steve, a lifelong wood burner, and received the desired accolades.

The Schieber family dog enjoys the warmth of the fire the most. (Photo by Greg Schieber)

I’m convinced a well-placed woodstove will do more for the ambiance of a home than even the best interior designer with an unlimited budget could otherwise manage. 

The appeal of lighting that first fire of the season and settling back into the comfort and warmth of a good fire, is just enough to make me appreciate the lingering chill in the air. Winter, go ahead and bring the best you got. I look forward to it.

Our woodstove is centrally located, placed in the corner of our dining room/kitchen, maximizing our opportunity to enjoy its warmth and aesthetic. To cap off the experience, I need a good armchair to sit near it, so I can more comfortably linger with early morning coffee or a late evening book after the kids have gone to bed. 

My wife has protested the idea of adding a chair to the dining room, for aesthetic reasons my simple mind cannot comprehend. So, I’ve gone without. This winter, however, things are going to change. I’m half owner of this house. I don’t need permission. Right?

All ages can help move firewood, and so our 8-, 6-, and 4-year-olds helped put some additional hustle into the activity. I already have a pile of split firewood from the winter before, dry and ready for service. From there, the process is simple. Fill the garden cart, move the cart into the shed, stack it up. 

A job well done, though it sometimes requires a little bit of a bribe for these family helpers! (Photo by Greg Schieber)

The kids take their turns helping their mother load the cart and helping me stack. The four-year-old adds some colorful commentary as he grunts to lift the heavy pieces. He wasn’t asked to help. He just followed our lead, and kept after it, piece by piece.

We have tried to raise good helpers, with decent success. On this day, however, a bribe helped fine tune their focus. If they stuck to it from start to finish without dawdling, they would get to help set up the Christmas tree. 

That’s right. This proud, bona fide, heat-the-house-with-real-wood originalist, took a shortcut and purchased an artificial Christmas tree. Those real trees can be fire hazards (so I’ve heard)!

When I was a kid...

Putting up firewood was a tradition and family affair when I was a child, too. My dad would purchase bundles of slab wood and chunk them up on a PTO (power take-off)-driven buzz saw.

 I would help throw the pieces into the loader bucket on the tractor. I was too young to be trusted to help stack it. 

Anyone who has done it knows that stacking firewood is a healthy hybrid of art and science. My mom would recruit a few “professionals” (my bachelor uncles) to come help with that part in exchange for patching their worn-out blue jeans and some homemade pizza after the job was done. 

I can still picture in slow motion the near ceiling height row of wood tip and tumble to the floor, prompting them to have to clear the wreckage and start all over. They worked hard for that pizza. I didn’t understand it then, but having suffered through bachelorhood during law school, I sort of get it.

When I was a bit older, I became the muscle needed to help keep my grandpa’s basement filled with dry oak for burning as he aged and became unable to crawl into the bed of the pickup truck. 

On more than one occasion I’ve impressed city friends by wielding an ax to split a few logs. I’m not good at it, so I now rely on a mechanical wood splitter. But it seemed an impressive life skill to those who only knew the heat from natural gas. 

I had multiple summer jobs in college that included splitting, hauling, and stacking firewood – one as a ranch hand, feeding stone hearth fireplaces in mountain cabins, and at other times keeping it stacked up at summer camps for summer evening campfires and camaraderie among friends.

Living in Fillmore County’s ‘Big Woods’, it seemed sacrilege not to be burning wood for heat in those early years. I was already cutting it up and moving it around anyway, as trees fell or needed cleanup around the property.

Historically, a good portion of the Big Woods was carved up into small parcels to serve as woodlots for nearby farms. A few of those small parcels persist in original form, however, many have been consolidated. Presently, on a weekend in November you’re much more likely to hear the blast of a shotgun than the sputter of a chainsaw from any such parcel. 

Perhaps when you don’t put up firewood each fall for winter heat you have time for other seasonal hobbies, like hunting or watching the Vikings turn over the football.

The weather warmed up, so the wood stove sits cold again after its initial run in early November. But pretty soon the fall hustle will be over, and it will be time again to rest and enjoy the wood stove fire, on a cushioned armchair, maybe.