Tales of Woodcutting

Dear Wal,

Today we were heading home from the library (I get off the bus at the library and then Dad picks me up) and we had just left downtown when all of a sudden there was this giant log in the road. It had dark bark and it was covered in ivy-I thought it was white pine because the trees above the road are these magnificent, ancient white pins all shrouded in ivy, but Dad said it was an oak. Apparently, this grew of dudes was cutting up said tree that they had just felled when he drove down to pick me up. The log rolled off the hill above the road and into the road.
This guy was standing next to the log and waving cars around, and the log came up above his waist. This tree was seriously huge.
In order to understand where all this is coming from, you have to realize that I live in a small town in the middle of no where. Half or more of the population heats with wood, and whenever you want to build something there's always a lot of clearing and cutting and hauling that has to be done before you even have a spot to build in. Only in my town would you find a giant log sitting in the middle of the road.

Picture of forest around my house

We heat with wood at my house, it's cheaper than oil and abundant, Dad usually doesn't even have to cut down live trees. There are always dead or near-dead trees (ones that haven't rotted yet, that is) to use for fire wood. He and I have a system worked out. He cuts down the trees and splits the wood and I lug it around everywhere. Usually have to take it from the splitter to the trailer and then from the trailer to the woodpile after I drive it over there. Piling wood is very serious business. You have to do it just right so the whole thing doesn't tip over, which means that you have to take into account that each piece of wood is going to be slightly bigger on one end no matter how perfectly split it is. Trees get thinner the taller you go, so the end closest to the ground is wider. This might not seem that important, but if you pile too many pieces with the wide end on one side or the other those few centimeters of extra wood add up and you find your pile leaning dangerously. Then there's the weird pieces, where the wood was split along a knot and there's a huge clump of wood in the way that makes piling them difficult. Along the way chunks and splinters fall off or get peeled off until there's a good bit of kindling scattered everywhere. Then I go around and pick it up and put it in buckets. And thus was my job.
Until...
Dad taught me how to use the splitter. I was infinitely pleased. Finally, a real task (I'm still trying to get him to teach me how to drive the tractor) for an assistant lumberjack. Splittles are dangerous. If you don't keep your hands thoroughly out of the way, bad things can happen. So I heaved logs onto the metal base and watched them peel apart like butter under the splitter's ax..splitting thing..whatever it's called. It was extremely satisfying. And I didn't lose any limbs.

/endrant