The Great Outdoors: Wood Fires
It is February and a typical cold morning as I get out of bed. The first thing I do is go to a room that was built several years ago. I kneel down in front of our wood stove, stir the hot coals, watch the orange glow and add more firewood. I like loading the stove and the smell of wood smoke. The flames begin to dance, and I close the door.
Our wood stove features glass doors, allowing us to enjoy watching the flames. My wife’s rocking chair is close by. She likes sitting next to the wood stove, reading a book or her Bible. I watch the fire to ensure it is going well before I go to the kitchen to pour a cup of coffee and begin my day.
I would like to say that wood is the only source of heat in our home. Not that I have any back-to-the-land ideals but because I would like to think my life is simple enough to heat that way. It isn’t. Our home is too big for our wood stove to heat it.
When we built our home over 50 years ago, we had a rock fireplace put in. It was nice, and we loved watching the flames, but it did not heat the house very well. We eventually purchased a wood pellet stove insert for the firebox. Bags of wood pellets are stacked in our garage.
Every day during winter, I go out and bring a bag of pellets in and dump it in the top of the stove. It, too, has a glass door to watch the flames. We also have a gas furnace that rarely comes on with our other heat sources.
Of all our heat sources, we love our little wood stove the most. There is something about wood fires. They are gentle and patient. The heat doesn’t come from metal grates throughout the house. It radiates out and up, filling the room. It wraps around you, penetrating, lasting.
You put your backside up to the stove, and when that side is done just right, do the other side. Now you’re talking warmth. With the doors left open to the room, the little wood stove’s heat travels into the kitchen and living room.
On the farm where I grew up, wood stoves kept us warm in winter. A pot-bellied wood stove was in the living room. All the other rooms of the old farmhouse were closed off. There was no insulation in the house. We all sat around the wood stove until the time to go to bed in the cold bedrooms.
We slept together under piles of blankets. Metal irons heated on the wood stove were wrapped in sheets and put at the foot of the bed to keep our feet warm. Grandma fixed all the meals on a wood cook stove. Grandpa spent many hours chopping firewood with his axe.
For many years, I cut and split firewood for our home from the forest surrounding a weekend cabin we owned. The cabin was also heated by a wood stove. We would bring stacks of firewood back home with us. After we sold the cabin, I had to resort to buying firewood for a few years.
When we bought the land and built our house all those years ago, there were lots of oak trees. As we got older, the oak trees did, too. Some of them had to be cut down due to diseases. They were so big I had to have them cut down at different times by a professional tree trimmer from our church.
He would loan me his wood splitter and cut the tree up into a size that would fit our little wood stove. I spent many hours splitting and stacking wood at different times over the past few years. A little neighbor buddy helped me.
I have a couple of wood piles from those trees stacked behind our house, covered with tarps to keep all the wood dry. I make many trips there throughout the week during winter. There is enough to last a few more years. By then, more trees will probably need to be cut down. I am getting older, but I will do it as long as I possibly can.
There is another type of wood fire. I have enjoyed campfires many times in my life, and I still do today. I have sat around campfires at many deer camps over the years. I have enjoyed campfires at the cabin we had. I have enjoyed campfires on the banks of rivers, streams and lakes. I have enjoyed campfires built on big boulders on Canadian lakes and campfires at the top of an Ozarks hill overlooking the beautiful valleys below.
At my age, I don’t do much of that anymore, but I still have the memories. I have a fire pit behind my house. Most of the time, I use it to burn limbs, leaves or pinecones that have fallen into my yard from all the trees. My neighbor buddy and his sisters sometimes help me with that. They all call me Papa Larry.
Winter is my favorite time to sit at my fire pit. Especially if there is snow on the ground. The fire reflects on the snow, and I reflect back on good memories of the life I have lived.
Since Christmas is my birthday, I like to sit there and thank God for His son, Jesus, and what he did for all of us. I thank him for not giving up on me. I thank him for my wife, my family, friends and our church. I thank Him for the gift He gave me of being able to write stories that I hope touch hearts and help people discover the outdoors He created. I thank Him for all He has done for me in my life.
New Year’s Eve is another favorite time of mine to go to my fire pit. The flames flicker and dance. Sparks float hypnotically upward into a star-filled sky. Memories flood my mind. Wood fires warm my thoughts and memories as well as my hands and feet. While most people are out partying, I am enjoying the quiet and making more memories around another wood fire.
SOMETHING TO THINK ABOUT
"To poke a wood fire is more solid enjoyment than almost anything else in the world."
- Charles Dudley Warner
Larry Whiteley has communicated the great outdoors across America for over 40 years through newspapers, magazines, books, blogs and a nationally syndicated radio show. To read more of his award-winning stories, go to www.storiesbylarry.com. Email him at larrywhiteley2@gmail.com.
