Archives for posts with tag: winter chores

We’ve been burning a lot of beech this year. A lot of beech. Winter is back, real winter, with the mercury hovering in the teens or below, and snow. A lot of snow. It’s a relief.

Our ‘normal’ snow load and its spring melt is nature’s natural drip irrigation for the forests. We’ve been missing it for several years, nervously noting the change. So this year’s normal La Nina winter comes as a mixed blessing. We’re happy to see the snow—even if it means snow removal duty. We’re noting the multiple polar vortices that our pushing our winter lows lower than normal. That’s also something to note. It’s an indication that the jet stream is unstable, one of the symptoms of climate change. Less visable, and more alarming is that similar instabilities are becoming evident in our ocean currents—the drivers of weather all over the world. 

Beech is not an optimal wood for heating. It doesn’t have the BTUs of ash or other, harder woods. It burns nicely, hot and fast, so we’re constantly filling the woodstove. Our ample beech supply is another disturbing symptom of climate change. We burn only deadfall, so the appearance of beech in our wood supply means the beech trees are in trouble. Beech Bark Disease has been in North America for well over a century. It hitchhiked to North Eastern Canada from Europe in mid-1800s trade, but remained there, relatively stable for its first North American Century. The disease is actually a partnership of several organisms—some fungal and some sap-sucking insects who serve to spread it. The conditions for their joint spread didn’t fuel its expansion until a shifting climate created opportunities to increase its range. It’s done so quickly since the turn of the most recent century, and beech trees are seriously threatened. 

“It all burns,” says Rick as we set out to harvest the deadfall to heat our home. We avoid conifers—because they burn dirty, but everything else that drops to the forest floor is fair game. We’re still burning ash—the last remnants from the ash die off, courtesy of another hitchhiker, the Emerald Ash Borer. Ash is a lovely firewood that burns long and clean. Our mix includes American Black Cherry, Ash, Beech, Maple, and a smattering of Hophornbeam. The only downside to the Beech is that you need more of it to get through the winter. If you’re relying on a glance of the total volume of the total cut and stacked firewood supply, you could run short. We’re running a little short this year. We have back up supplies, so we’ll be fine, but I made the mistake of forgetting to discount the beech when I stocked the woodshed. I remember harvesting the beech, several years ago. Rick was eager to get to some of the ash, but beech trees had fallen across the trail…so beech it was. 

Different species have different attributes when used as firewood. When I was growing up, my father favored oak—hard and long burning. I never liked the acrid edge of burning oak, but it’s a valuable heating source. Lucky for me—there’s not a lot of oak on our property. I don’t have to make that choice. Some woods deliver more heat, some burn fast—good for kindling or getting a fire going. Some wood, like our American Black Cherry, burn with colorful flames. It doesn’t speak to value on a heating level—but it’s pretty to watch in the woodstove. Burning wood for heat isn’t the easy thermometer setting that most folks understand. It takes many hours and hard labor to harvest, haul, stack and split. It’s free, but only in a monetary sense. We work for our warm winters. 

We are not normal in this respect. Most Americans rely on some sort of fossil fuel to keep warm through the winter. That puts the carbon footprint out of balance, essentially releasing CO2 from earlier eras into the atmosphere. This is where renewable energies can make a big difference. Our choice was driven by the economics of supply (we have acres of forest) and by an effort to minimize our carbon footprint. By burning only deadfall, we release only carbon from our own era that was already headed for the atmosphere. It isn’t a solution for everyone. It takes a minimum of 10 acres of forest to supply enough deadfall to heat a home. But it works for us. We extended our ‘utility’ by insulating the hell out of our small home when we built it. We can do even a hard winter with just under three cords of wood.

I have a recurring dream in which I am a ‘sommelier’ of woodburning. I sound like some high-end server as I inform my customers of their woodburning options. “Tonight we’re burning ash and maple—for a long burning fire with a golden hue. For a small added charge we can add some black cherry, which will burn in multiple colors throughout your evening. For special occasions, we can add some lovely imported varieties—like manzanita—hot burning and very colorful—but,” I nod knowingly, “That comes at a premium.” In the dream, I don’t know who my customers are, or what kind of business I’m running. Maybe it’s like a stress dream (like if you’ve ever waited table), or a roundabout way of appreciating life choices we’ve made. But it does make me reflect on, and appreciate, what the forest offers, even in death. Life is a beech…..

It’s late winter, and the pruning season is upon us. I enjoy pruning. It is as close to sculpting as many of us get in adult life. Except, that pruning is collaborative. One reaches a good result, only when working with the tree’s own inclinations. And the results play out, and change, over the years.

The first year that the pioneers of our small orchard were in the ground, they were victimized by a visit from the deer. A cherry farmer friend of ours told us to pull them all out. “They’ll never recover,” he warned me. I agonized over it, but finally decided to save the trees–and address their injuries through pruning. You can tell. The trees aren’t perfect. Several of them have a bit of a wobble in their lower limbs. I think of it as character. At six years, those trees are now teenagers–and beginning to bear fruit. Nothing could be more delicious.

We also have a couple of “ancient” apple trees. When my ex and I first bought the property, decades ago, we dropped in a couple of trees from a local nursery. We didn’t know then about the poor soils, or about careful tree selection. These trees received no water, or love, or care. We did cage them to protect from the deer, but even the cages have caused injuries. It’s a wonder they survived. I’ve spent the last six years rehabilitating them, carefully shaping them around old injuries and neglect. When they bear, the fruit is incredible–but it’ll be a little bit more coaxing before I can call them fully recovered.

Ours is a dooryard orchard. That is, a small orchard near the house, for personal use. It has several kinds of fruit trees–apple, pear and plum. The trees are selected for northern hardiness, disease resistance, pollinating partners, harvest timing, and flavor. When things fully mature, we should have a continual harvest from July through November. Because there are different kinds of trees, and even different varieties–they do not have the crisp, military uniformity of a commercial orchard. The first few years were really ragged looking. Our neighbors shook their heads. But now, the ugly duckling orchard is coming into its own.

This is the first year that it still looked like an orchard, even after pruning. Keeping the mantra of orchard pruning in the back of my head (“remove dead wood and crossed branches, prune for lateral growth, layer for light and air, cut back a third of the new growth, and prune to a bud directed toward where the tree should go,”), the trees always looked too little after pruning. This year, they’re shorter…but still look like trees. It’s all about patience. There are a few babies, still, late additions to the tribe. A year or so ago, I added some ‘exotics,’ a seckel dessert pear (Napoleon’s favorite), a crab apple (pollinating insurance), and an Arkansas Black apple…just because I wanted it. I think we’re done with new trees, at least if we want to stay inside the fence.

Doing okay after an early wobble

Over the winter, some deer broke into the fenced orchard again, and nibbled on the trees. But now, most of the trees are big enough that the damage was minimal. I almost have to compliment some of the deers’ efforts…they nibbled right to where I’d have pruned…but they could’ve left cleaner cuts! This spring Rick will fortify the fencing. Hopefully, we’ll be the ones making the pruning decisions in the future. In any event, they’re trees now, and they’ll be fine.

Maybe, at some point in the future, I’ll experiment with grafting, which is a pruner’s ultimate conceit.