In my head, I'm an expert

Have you ever stacked a cord of wood?

This weekend, the wood guy came precisely when he said he would, and dumped a cord of wood in the yard. I’d already prepared pallets and I’d watched all the videos, so I was ready for him.

What I wasn’t ready for were all the offers to help. I live in a little New England town and what I learned growing up was that New Englanders are unfriendly and they don’t talk to their neighbors. Having grown up in a small Missouri town where your neighbors knew your business — or thought they did — standoffishness sounded like a nice change, but that has not been my experience. Four different neighbors passed by and offered to help me stack. I had to talk one of them — a man who is older than I and recently had hip surgery — out of getting out of his truck. My neighbors have come to expect me in the yard moving rocks, or on the roof taking pictures of roofers, but this seemed like a bridge too far for them. That, or I looked so pathetic with my wheelbarrow against the big pile of wood, they wanted to put me out of my misery.

I waved them all off.

I’d been looking forward to this opportunity to perform a task where I could see the fruits of my labors. I don’t have a job like that, not really, and so things like yard work and masonry and leaf-raking and wood-stacking strike me as kind of cool.

The wood guy and I talked about this, how stacking wood is meditative. He’d just spent the early morning loading this maple into his trailer. About the time I woke up to his text, he had already been outside in the chilly dawn for an hour.

Stacking the wood took about an hour. Fighting the tarp took another hour until I finally gave up in disgust. I will return to pretty it up when I damn well feel like it.

I sent these before and after photos to my husband, who is still in Florida, and he responded, “You’re like a man!” He may have meant it as a compliment but no, darling. I’m smarter than most men. I also weigh less than most of them. But I moved a cord of wood and can still climb the stairs to ride my exercise bike. And then he helpfully suggested I cover all the wood, and I was able to give him book, chapter and verse as to why you only cover the top of a seasoned wood pile. (The wood needs air.)

By Wednesday, I will have forgotten everything I know about stacking and storing wood, but for now? I’m basking in my own awesomeness.

Let’s make this a great week, shall we?