October 5th, 2020

When I was thirteen. my family moved out of Westwood and into the suburbs of Lakewood. With the increased square footage came a large fireplace. That fireplace quickly became the heart of our home and we found ourselves in need of a new essential, firewood.

Instead of buying firewood bundle by bundle, we teamed up with some family friends to venture into their land near Evergreen and chop and collect our own firewood. We would rise early on Saturday mornings, pack our lunches, and jump into the car and head toward the trees. I have many fond memories of running through the woods, building dams in the mountain streams, sitting on moss heaps while eating trail mix, and learning how to use a chain saw to manipulate a tree's fall. We did this for close to five fall seasons until life got a little two busy for both families. 

Instead of getting up each Saturday to collect wood, we chose the convenience of having wood delivered directly to the house once each fall. My parents love to burn a fire as soon as it drops below sixty degrees; therefore, we need a lot of wood to get us through the winter. They order two cords. Now, I didn't know the official definition of a cord...so I googled it. Here is what I found: "A full cord is a great amount of wood. It measures A cord measures 4-feet x 4-feet x 8-feet and features a volume of 128 cubic feet. The entire length of the pile should be 8 feet (2.4 m), but the length of every piece of wood matches the width or depth of the pile and will average about 4 feet (1.2 m)." Now, that's a lot of lumberjack-talk for a shit-ton-of-wood. 

When the delivery comes, it's all hands on deck. Wood is dropped in a large pile and like ants we move it from one pile to the next. The wood in a pattern that alternates in a Jenga pattern so as to tie the wood together. It's not really hard work, but it is tedious. This year's labor was fun because I got to work along side my siblings, my parents, and my brother-in-law. We began the process with a Mexican breakfast: refried beans, potatoes, ground beef green chile, and bacon. Then I threw on my overalls and sun hat, fired up the boombox, and got to moving the load.

The once a year wood delivery isn't nearly as nostalgic or fun as my teenage adventures in the Evergreen forest, but they are still an opportunity to bond over a shared labor and goal. I think I'll forever love this process because at the root of it I am helping warm the place that is the heart of the home.