Two summers ago surprise winds pushed over stout oak and cherry trees on three sides of our house. Since then, over the winters, I have been rendering them into firewood. This is known colloquially as “putting up wood.” 

First you cut all the limbs from the tree and saw them into proper lengths to easily feed into the woodburning stoves. We have two stoves in the house, in the basement and the kitchen, and a third in a small log cabin. 

When the limbs are removed and the slash piled, I begin the slower job of cutting the tree trunk into rounds. The world becomes quiet when I turn the chainsaw off and reach for my six-pound splitting maul or the Swedish Gränsfors maul with its hand-forged three-pound head. I pile the split pieces to await their next trip to one of our three wood sheds. 

Now that it is warmer, some of the oak and cherry don’t split so easily. Then I head to the garage to grab some steel wedges from an old galvanized bucket.  

When faced with a stubborn block of wood, I lean over it, scrutinizing its cut surface. I read the grain, inspecting where any branches might have grown out from the trunk (junctions of limb to trunk are difficult to split) and look for telltale wood checking or fissures that will help determine where I should aim my swinging maul. 

Once I determine what looks to be the weakest point of the block, I walk a few blows of the maul across the wood’s cut surface in as straight a line as possible. Many winters of doing this has made me fairly accurate. Using the back of the maul head I tap a wedge into one of the initial maul bites. I gradually pound that wedge deeper into the oak. If the block is especially stubborn, I align a second wedge in another of the original maul bites. On the rare occasion I add a third or fourth to complete the job.

Four generations of my family have been pounding on these wedges. The countless blows have rendered the steel into ragged-edged mushrooms. Over a hundred winters have seen my great grandfather, grandfather, father and now me partner with these old steel artifacts. Such familial knowledge makes the job more like a team effort and for that I am most grateful.

Just over fifty years ago I was helping my Grandpa Anderson put up wood in the same woods that I continue to cut firewood.  Grandpa had recruited his cousin, Gordie Peterson, to help. Gordie drove his unstyled John Deer B a mile and a half to join us. The tractor was equipped with a 30-inch buzz saw mounted on the front of the tractor.

We set 6-8 foot oak limbs on the saw bed and then Gordie would grasp the handle and pull the whining saw blade down on the wood, like a giant electric meat cutter. 

At one point a piece of oak fractured as it was cut and it sent a sharp shard at Gordie’s pulling hand. It left a nasty cut. Gordie casually looked at his hand and without taking his pipe out of his mouth, reached into his pocket, pulled out a bandana, wrapped it tightly around his bleeding wound and resumed sawing.

During a break I asked Grandpa, “How many cords of wood does it take to heat your house?” (It’s a big farmhouse built early in the 20th century.)

“Oh, we usually figure it takes about ten cords to get us through fall, winter and early spring.” 

Now bear in mind this was when winters were colder and a temp of minus twenty degrees Fahrenheit did not send folks into a tizzy. Even at -30 schools were not cancelled.

Wide-eyed, I wondered, “How did you have time to cut all that wood?”

 He looked at me quizzically and answered matter-of-factly, “Well it was our job.”

I suspect the ancestral lineage of wood splitters and wedge carriers will end with my death. The wedges might be passed on as hefty paperweights but in an increasingly digital world who needs to weigh down loose papers.

If these wedges are to continue their divisive work in the decades to come, I may have to forgo the idea of these being family heirlooms and simply pass them on to any wood cutter. 

I feel good about the three cords of wood I’ve put up in in the last month and a half. It’s given me healthy doses of fresh air, a great core workout (proper splitting engages the core more than the arms) and the reward of accumulated wealth.

Every winter I can count on wearing out a pair of leather work gloves. Now, with March upon us, I can optimistically go to the hardware store and pick up a supple new pair for next winter.

Filed under: Uncategorized