Mary Bellamy

OK, the log didn’t really win in the end. I’ll get the last laugh as I burn the bastards in my woodstove this winter. This weekend Marmian and I decided to tackle the firewood project. I have a friend of a friend who had some cut wood, some downed trees and some standing dead trees she wanted off her land. Two women, two trucks, one chainsaw. We went to work on Saturday afternoon, cutting down trees, loading up cut wood and lengths and hauling it to our respective house. We managed to put away four truckloads in about five hours. I fled to Chena Hot Springs that night to:

a) soak my aching bones
b) bid a fond farewell to Victoria, who leaves Alaska on Tuesday

After downing some ibuprofen before bed, I awoke to sore and achy muscles on Sunday. Nevertheless, Marmian and I drove out again for more wood. We were pickier this time, cutting into the downed trees to determine the quality of the wood before proceeding. We were also a hell of a lot slower, getting just two truckloads in four hours. A lot of that time was spent debating a particularly heavy piece of wood that was good for burning but was going to be a bitch to cut down, load, unload and split. In the end, I made a persuasive argument that healthy forests flourish when a certain amount of organic matter is left to decay and feed the young trees, and we left that piece there.

We made the mistake of stopping at Carl’s Jr. on the way back into town. This was a mistake not only because I ate another deadly bacon guacamole burger, but also because we sat down, then discovered our muscles had stiffened, leaving us nearly unable to stand up again.

It’s all worth it, though, to look at the large pile of wood next to my driveway. Next weekend I’m going to put the roommate to work cutting wood down to length, splitting wood and gathering kindling. Marmian and I hope to make one more run out to the property for more wood, and I’m also going to get a load of slab wood for fire starting purposes. When you combine this with the triumphant return of my furnace, I’m starting to feel more prepared for winter.

And war wounds? I gots ‘em.