Firewood
Let me admit this right at the beginning *I love firewood. I love to split it, stack it, carry it to the family stove-love to feel its own special warmth on a cold evening. I believe that it should be honored with an ode written and placed on a Grecian.urn. Yes, on my top ten “loves list,” firewood is right up there with family, friends and crab salad. Seeking warmth and comfort has always been a part of our history. The pioneers, as they reached the Great Plains, walked beside their wagons picking up buffalo chips for the evening fires. Sometimes called meadow muffins, a three bushel gathering would provide heat through the night, burn with no odor and keep the mosquitoes away.
Once in the Oregon territory, buffaloes were a bit difficult to find, but the great stands of timber provided an abundant source of firewood. Logs would be cut into four foot lengths, split and delivered by wagon to homesteaders and businesses. Someone with a "buzz” saw would then be hired to cut the pieces into desired lengths for individual stoves. For a better way to understand early firewood delivery, take a look at the picture on page 139 of Phil Jonsrud’s book
Wistle Punks and Misery Whips.* With a need for up to ten cords of firewood for the year, every settler worth his or her galt knew that a "true" cord would stack out at 4 x 4 ft. x 8 ft.
Growing up in Sandy, I remember the small wood stove in the basement, and, although it did provide some heat, it was mainly used for drying jerky. Our main heating source was the oil stove that took up the better part of our living room. Being a boy and the older child, it fell to me to keep the stove fueled and running which meant filling the oil can from the barrel in the garage, pouring it into the holding tank, tossing a match through a ridiculously small opening and hoping that the whole thing didn't blow up in my face. It didn’t but if I could have found a bushel basket, I would have been willing to look for some buffalo chips.
And today-natural gas-electricity. Clean, efficient, with the capability of being started by the signal from a smart phone some many miles away.
And so things change-probably for the better, but if you carry within your body the heart of a romantic, it is a feeling hard to beat as you look at a finely stacked cord of firewood. If you share these memories, savor them, for there will be few who come to join us.
*AVAILABLE AT THE SANDY HISTORICAL MUSEUM
