What Is It With Me and Firewood?

My father's family, in Canada, were a hearty bunch of lumberjacks.  Maybe that's what possesses me.  Then again, mother was from the rural south -- in the country and firewood was a "must" during her childhood.  I like the outdoors: wildlife, shady forests, the smell of trees in spring and fall.  Whatever causes my love to scavenge for firewood, it is persistent when we're in wooded campgrounds.  I simply can't resist walking through the woods and dragging long pieces of dry wood to the campsite. Once I get onto a firewood search, I catch myself watching for good pieces of wood even when we're driving along a country road. 

Adding to my firewood obsession is Wayne's Canadian Boy Scout training.  He taught me the proper method for starting a good campfire and now I don't even need him to get the fire going! I do it myself!  Additionally, we've bought a battery operated Black & Decker chainsaw that's light enough for me to use.  And yes, I do use it.

Wayne drags a small tree back to the camp for me.

He's so sweet.  Helping sort my firewood.

All this makes me think about a Seinfield (sitcom) episode in which Jerry Seinfield talks about getting obsessed with cardboard boxes when you're preparing to move.  You look for good packing boxes everywhere and pretty soon, you can't stop looking for them. I've experienced that with moving boxes and it's the same with firewood.

As for the campfire itself -- it absolutely mesmerizes me and I can sit around a campfire all day and until well after dark.  Not in hot summer, mind you -- but anytime the sky is overcast or the temperature is below 70 degrees.

However, the smell of a campfire is not appealing to me and I dislike the odor my campfire makes in my clothes.