And, just like that, a profound chill settled over the land. People who thought they were impervious began to have second thoughts. People who thought they were prepared stopped and took stock of the situation. Plans changed abruptly. Things looked normal enough, but there’d been a subtle shift, you could almost hear Dorothy saying, “I’ve a feeling we’re not in Kansas anymore.”
It’s not a big adjustment for us. We don’t commute and we’re not big travellers, so road conditions are not an issue. It’s damn cold out there, running below zero at night and the single digits in the day. Mostly it means we run the woodstove 24/7, instead of just afternoons and evenings. It begins to chew into our firewood supply. What? Did you think I meant something else?
We went into this winter season a little lean—mostly because of other projects. The last few mild winters have made us lax—even though I said, all summer, that this would be a “real winter.” I follow weather and climate issues, and all the indicators were that we were coming into a La Nina cycle. Now I’m eyeing our fuel supply in the woodshed, wondering if it’s enough to carry us through spring.
Not that we’re without back-up. We burn deadfall—trees that have already died and fallen—so our wood supply is pretty seasoned by the time we cut. Even then, it usually doesn’t all make it into the woodshed the year we cut; it sits, cut, but not necessarily split, on pallets for another season. And then there’s usually a pile of “difficult wood” or newly cut (like when we take out a diseased tree), that we could use in a pinch. And there’s a stack of uncut, but fully seasoned wood in longer log form, out behind the barn. So if we run the woodshed empty, we can always turn to alternate supplies.
Looking at it now, I’m guessing we’ll run about a third of a cord short from the woodshed—and we have a half cord sitting there, covered, almost ready to go. We’ll be warm enough. It’s a country thing, pantry mentality. It means you have what you need, and then some, just in case. I know most folks don’t give it another thought—they adjust the thermostat, or run to the grocery store if things run low. But it’s a good idea to take a longer view, to keep an eye on the horizon to be prepared.
Because there are cold and dark days ahead.

Our Scandinavian ancestors are wagging their fingers at you. I was always told by Keith you judge a person by their woodpile up north.
Cheers and try to stay warm.
Matt
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It’s true, and I was there to hear the stories. Mostly, you heard it at funerals–the deceased would be measured by the wood pile they left–“Ah, but he’s left his widow in fine shape–she’s got years of wood put by,” or, shaking their heads, “You could tell he wasn’t
doing so well, she’ll be lucky to make it to spring with the wood he left.” And, they did the same for the wives–only by how much preserved food was in the pantry. “She left years of thimbleberry jam–he’s in good shape.” Yes, if you judged me just by what’s in the woodshed, they’d be wagging their fingers, but we also have all these ancillary piles–and that’s my defense.
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Lol. I forgot about the Jam! Very funny. Good memories. Stay warm.
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