In search of a dry heat

It’s not how much firewood, it’s how much dry firewood. With the vernal equinox in the offing, I’m looking at a scattered woodpile. The remnants of last fall’s stacked cords are oddball pieces of odd sizes or with knots hard to split, a mishmash of maple, ash, red elm, birch and ironwood.

Besides the unsplittable, and thus slow-to-dry, other chunks were late to the party, wood cut as the earth tilted toward winter. To be sure, this wood is in need of another season to be seasoned. However, some of it is being pressed into duty.