Ibuprofen Monday
A.V. Walters
Spring Peeking Through
It was a glorious weekend. Temperatures in the 60s and sunshine! Almost all of the snow is gone—except in a few spots in the shade (north facing slopes) or where Rick piled it with the blower during the winter.
There are a thousand things we should be doing. But the ground is not yet thawed, and … well, we rationalized why the highest and best use of our time would be to open up the trails to the “back forty.” The property has a slightly graded panhandle (for road access) and then a chunk of steep hills and valleys leading to an upper meadow. On foot, it’s a heavy breathing hike. Until now, we’ve only been able to access it with a vehicle by going on an old logging road through the neighbors’ back yard. The neighbors have been good about it, but not enthusiastic. So, really it was about getting access and keeping good neighborly relations. It had nothing to do with the outrageous weather.
We need the access because back there is where we harvest the deadfall for our firewood heating supply. The hills are heavily forested and, especially with the Emerald Ash Borer losses, they are littered with standing and dropped dead trees.
This ash is doomed. Pileated woodpeckers have chipped off the bark surface to get at the borers, below.
It breaks our hearts, to see these dead any dying trees but we’d be fools to let the wood go to waste. The property is criss-crossed with old (and pretty steep) logging roads, many of them blocked with fallen trees. The weekend would be a trail clearing exercise. It was not to be a harvesting foray.
It started like this, just to clear the trail:
But one thing led to another…and there was this:
And then, when we made it over the ridge and down the trail on the Kubota, we could hardly contain ourselves. So there was this:
And then, a couple of stragglers on the way home yielded this:
We are agog over how much safer and easier the firewood harvest can be with Kubota assist. You can chain lift logs for safer sawing access, or just drag them down the slopes to cut where there’s no danger of rolling. Even with that, it’s heavy work. We came home each night achy and sweaty, but elated. We’re naming the “new roads” as we open them up.
Believe it or not, that’s the “road.”
The woods are lovely this early in the year. There’s the carpet of leaves, and just the tips of the wild leeks and Dutchman’s Breeches peeking through.
There’s only one hitch. Now there’s no doubt that we need a little trailer. Our lovely circuitous trails can get us in to make wood—but that’s where the wood will stay until we can wrangle a trailer in. It’s too much wood to try to remove with just the loader.
And like many in the Midwest, after the first incredible weekend of spring, we’re stiff and sore.
tworockchronicles 
Wow! What a beautiful chunk of land.
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Yeah, we’re liking it.
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Whew that was a lot of exercise. I’m ready for a nap.
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My turn. Hehehehe.
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You forgot to the show the recovery phase. You know – with glasses of wine.
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Too tired. I grabbed a beer, and Rick made himself a toddy.
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Looks like you live in a beautiful area. I remember living in snowy climates, and how wonderful spring was– a natural high.
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I can’t tell whether it’s the natural high of the beauty and the season, or if it’s just relief at getting to wear regular shoes and the end of hat-hair!
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Yay you!
Also, I love the hope that is communicated in that first image.
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Oh boy, do I ever have wood lot envy! And all of the toys you two have to play with too? Wow!! So, how many cord of wood did you get just cleaning up deadfall? Guessing you must have a splitter tucked away somewhere too. (Pretty sure I’ve seen them in the Kubota advertising?)
This time of year, there’s nothing like the look lovely seasoned wood all split and stacked, ready for winter… Unless, of course, it’s a storeroom with shelves full of canning jars; ). Speaking of canning: your photo of the leeks reminded me of the year that my dad tried making pickled leeks… They were so strong, that you could smell them right through the jar, and it made his eyes water to eat them, lol! Guess they were just a touch too mature, hey?; )
But, back to the photo; love their vibrant green on the clean, dry beige of winter-flattened leaf litter… So many memories being stirred up by these photos. Thank you.
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I love the leek story. When I was a kid, I spent a lot of time with my crazy Finnish grandmother. In the Finnish-American community in the U.P., when someone passed away, the gossip about their “worth” was determined by gender. Women were measured by the number of jars in the canning cupboard. (Too little (roll of the eyes), she knew what was coming. For men, it was an examination of the size of their woodpile (Ya, but he left the widow with years worth of heat.) I figure we have eight or nine cords, split and stacked, another cord or two split and piled, but not yet stacked. We have about two and a half cords cut, still whole and sitting in the woods waiting to be brought in. On August 2nd, we had a major storm. We lost about thirty trees (many of them falling on the trails we’d just cleared!) With what’s already deadfall or standing dead, and what the storm downed in August we have years of clearing and cleaning up–and as long in firewood which we must process.
Ours is a small house. By the time we finish all the insulation required, we figure we’ll only be burning five or six cord per year. At that rate, we’ll be old before we run out (and of course more will fall.)
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