The log pile is growing
So now I have my own woodyard, have learnt to use a small electric saw, have taken the axe to small pieces of wood turning them into sticks, am strengthening my thigh muscles by pumping the hydraulic log splitter and I'm loving every single minute of it. I'm not sure what I love best, whether it's being outside in the fresh air or having a proper excuse to avoid the housework or feeling fitter and healthier or carrying with me a feeling of accomplishment as I look at the ever growing piles of logs and sticks. Every night when I light the fire I'm already warm with the glow that's come from growing ever more self sufficient and sometimes, when I'm in reflective mode, I wonder at how far I've come in the past three years. It was all going so well then until lunch time today. I got back from a walk to find Ash out with the dog so I decided to split some more logs (I'm a little worried that I'm becoming addicted to this particular activity). I found some big pieces which needed reducing in size, took them to the splitter and set to, managing the first few easily but, when I got to the final one, it was a weird shape. Stupidly I decided to ignore that little fact, put it on the machine and pumped the pedal until a chunk broke of the side then nothing, the thing was stuck with the metal jammed into the log and nothing moving in any direction. Suddenly realising I knew nothing at all, that two days with the log splitter in no way made me an expert, I did what any foolish woodwoman who thought she knew everything would do and walked away hoping Ash could sort it when he got home. And sort it he did while also giving me a lesson on what shape logs could be split on this particular piece of equipment which was an excellent experience for both of us. I came away with more knowledge than I had before and he was left with a feeling that he hadn't sunk into obscurity so a win:win situation right there.