Although I know that others in my neighborhood have lit their stoves or fireplaces, I just started our first fire of the season. It was a struggle, but I did the deed.
It’s not as cold as we would usually consider the criterion for burning wood into the atmosphere (< lower 20-some°) , but the basement is cold—even with heavier clothing—and we spend a lot of time there. (It’s where the basement behemouth—lives, so we are near it often.)
Well, starting the first fire of the season is an adventure. I forget things that I should remember. But, also, I have a bum wing, so I can’t chop wood very well. When healthy, I can swing a maul one handed and strike a log that I’m holding with my other had, and make multiple pieces of kindling from the log. Tonight ain’t the same. Sigh.
Gotta get back to the fire box…excuse me, please. Mayhaps I’ll see the smoke tomorrow morning as I run back along Edge Valley….