Getting the wood in for the
coming winter was an important summer focus for Philip Tiemann. Following
Chapter 17, is information on gagging how much wood you might need for a
Cavendish winter.
Our first year at Windy Hill ended most pleasantly with
the visit of a family of former neighbors from New Jersey. The brooks provided
entertainment for the younger fry,- in fact, we older folks took advantage of
the swimmin’ hold to get cool on hot summer afternoons after work. Also I
derived great benefit from help and instruction in car mechanics, - the new
cylinder was installed and other adjustment made, and before the friends left
Lizzie was ready to take the road again. And maybe we didn’t appreciate it!
If the
hay is in, August is something of a between month; still plenty to do but with
the crops under control and time to devote to other things. While Isabel and
the children took care of the garden produce, (such as it was) and picked
berries, I put the finishing touches on the new chicken shed,- wire across the
open front (which later would be protected by a sunray-admitting, translucent
plastic material) and a sliding door, besides various small projects. I also
"changed work" for a few days with neighbors, helping them get in
hay. It was necessary to cut more wood (not a very good job in the summer.) And
I took time to walk over the place, checking boundary walls and fences,
estimating possibilities of fields and pastures and reviewing successes and
failures of the past year.
For such greenhorns as we were, we certainly had been
blessed with good luck,. Especially had our associations with our several
neighbors been valuable, both in a personal way and in what I had learned.
Working in company with practical farmers was the best possible method to
acquire, knowledge of how to do things: not always the most up-to-date,
perhaps, but the fundamentals were sound, Also I had a pile of Government
bulletins which I studied as they applied to whatever I happened to be doing,
which offered a more scientific approach. (As a result of this and the
arguments it sometimes led to with my more experienced friends, I discovered I
had been dubbed "the book farmer.") Of course my year of practical experience
was quite priceless, and altho I still did some things the hard way I was
learning fast.
As a start for the second year I was determined to do
better with the wood supply. There was enough in the shed to carry us for a
while. Any which was cut at this time of year could be stacked to season for a
couple of months; then altho still green it should not be sappy and after being
sawed and in the shed for a while it should be usable- unlike some of the logs
I had dug out of the snow the past, winter and burned almost immediately. The
selection would be better, too,- gold rock maple and beech and birch (both
yellow and white) with a minimum. of other
species. I hoped thus to avoid further trouble with
creosote, that bubbling, black, sticky, smelly goop dripping from the pipe
joints.
Not only was it messy but it could be a hazard. When one
of our friends noticed the condition he cautioned us, "You'd better clean that pipe and
probably the chimney. Get clogged up and you'll have a good chimney fire. If that
ever happens," he advised, "throw a lot of kitchen salt into the
stove and close the drafts, and call the fire department. They may get here in
time to help but it may burn itself out anyway without setting the house
afire." I lost no time in doing as suggested and found both the pipe and
the chimney lined with a combustible crust. After the job was finished my
clothes had to go into the wash and it took a couple of days to get the grime
out of my skin. Thereafter 1 emptied the pipes of soot at least twice every
winter. Despite precautions we once did have a chimney fire. It started mildly
but soon was burning with a whooshing roar that turned the pipe rod-hot and was
more than a little terrifying. This is why sound chimneys are important, as
crevasses in the brick may permit fire to reach interior woodwork,- and then,
so long, house! Even a good volunteer fire company can't do much arriving after
a fire gets a start and too often having a limited water supply, (So, country
houses have high insurance rates.)
Like so many other good intentions I didn't begin to
accomplish as much as I had planned, nor as soon, 1 did at least stack
up several cords of wood and continued adding more until time to get it up from
the woods to the shed, where my pile grew to about seven cords ready for
sawing, It looked like a lot. Just about as snow was in the air a neighbor with
whom I had worked - this one, from over the hill - came with his big old
circular saw rig (drawn by a team) and set it between the woodpile and the
shed, "Don't expect that to go you all winter, do you?" ho joshed me,
"I thought you'd have twice as much," "There's a good seven
cord," I responded. - "I guess maybe, Well, let's get it sawed up.
But next time leave more room for me to get in with the rig," He put up
the horses; then with some delay and a good deal of sputtering the single-cylinder
engine was persuaded to start and the saw picked up its high-pitched whine,- As
he could not spare more than a few hours at any one tine we worked off and on for
a number of days, he "laying on" and I "taking away," that
is, he pulled and lifted the logs from the stack onto the saw table with
a stove length projecting and pushed it into the teeth. As the saw sliced thru
with an angry buzz I supported the end of the log so its weight would not pinch
the saw and when it came off heaved it as far as I could into the shed. I
confess I was very glad the sawing periods were no longer, and that there was
time, helped by the children, to pick up the chunks which
had accumulated in piles and stack them properly else there would not have been
sufficient space. When this was finished the supply was quite impressive...but
it still proved less than enough for a long Vermont winter.
As hoped, the summer kitchen had proved-more
comfortable, when the heat was not boxed in by a ceiling, But this worked both
ways, and when it commenced to get really cold we couldn't keep any warmth out
there, We hated to move the stove inside so Isabel stuck it out until the
canning was completed, which was in early October, By that time the scrub wood
we had been burning in the fireplace had boon used, and I didn't want to waste
our precious supply of stove wood. So the stove came in.
That autumn we were lucky in not having a real freeze
before October, when one night it got down to 26, This time we recognized the
signs and prepared for it. Most of the more perishable things were already
harvested, the field corn was in, and the soybean hay mowed down so it would
not suffer much flat on the ground, We hastily got in the last pumpkins and
squash and covered some remaining beans. The latter were all we lost: they froze
thru the covers. The cabbages being hardy were left out under baskets and pails
hoping they would grow some more. Next morning the Swiss chard looked rather
sad despite protection but I immediately cut and soaked several bushels and
Isabel canned it at once. I had to strip the outer leaves from the smaller cabbages
but the tender and succulent hearts could be used. - We finished the harvest
soon after. As I pulled the large cabbage heads, they were hung by the roots in
the cellar. This way they keep well, However, as I have indicated the kitchen
garden was a disappointment and we had less on hand than the previous year.
This was not the only misfortune: the apple crop was
short and besides those we used currently during August and September we had
very-few to keep. This was thru no fault of ours, as fruit blossoms
had been nipped generally by a late spring frost. In order to have some on hand
we purchased a couple of bushels from a roadside stand on the way to Brattleboro,
- However, the field crops were in good condition, especially the hay. When I
came to husk the corn it was very nice. Also it was a satisfaction to have the
garden cleaned up and things in shape for the winter somewhat earlier than
before. And having weathered a pretty rugged year on our own we were much more
self-assured, and felt that our technique was improving.
So
How Much Firewood Do you Need for a Cavendish Winter: As
we’ve read in the first 17 chapters, Tiemann had a hard time figuring out how
much firewood he would need. So how does one judge what you’ll need for the
coming winter?
• Insulation: How much do you have in your house?
The less you have, the more wood you’ll burn.
• Size of the area you plan to heat: Whole house
or just one room?
• How warm do you want to be? If you are
comfortable keeping the house at 65, you’ll need a lot less
• Type of Stove
• What type of wood do you have- very
high-heat-value woods (equivalent to more than 220 gallons of oil per cord)
which include hickory, apple, white oak, beech, and hornbeam, will give you
steady fires of long duration and create deep beds of coals. The low-heat-value
woods (less than 140 gallons of oil per cord), include most softwoods, poplars,
basswood, and butternut, burn fast and make few coals. How seasoned the wood is
also impact burn time.
Ultimately it’s better to have too much than too little.
So if you think five cords will get you through the winter, add another cord or
two just to be on the safe side.
