The face cords of firewood we have are normally stacked closer together than this. The stack to the left collapsed over the winter, and all this debris gathered between the rows. I started to clean it out and disturbed this snake. I kept poking him to scare him off, but he had apparently made this his home and didn’t want to give it up.
Instead of restacking the fallen row, I decided to distribute the wood to the neighboring stacks, pile them higher, and leave this opening for the new wood we have from the trees that fell on our property over the winter. This took the better part of the day.
That night the stack to the left of the snake caved in. The extra weight collapsed the support I had used, an old pallet. We tore the front end of that pile down. Peggi stood on the end of the biggest board we have and, like a teetertater, we lifted the remainder of the stack and rebuilt it.
So this is the better part of three days spent restacking firewood that had already been stacked. I’m trying to recreate that saying about firewood—how it warms you three times: when you chainsaw it, when you split it, and when you burn it. I’d like to add the days we spent restacking it.
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