“Chop your own wood and it will warm you twice.” Henry Ford
We burn wood for heat during the chilly months in Oregon. There is a shiny red wood stove in the middle of our kitchen that, as I write, has a fire that is burning bright, warming our home. Stacks of cordwood are out by the barn, Some wood we cut and split ourselves, other we have delivered.
During my years in Alaska, I developed an appreciation of firewood. I loved the fall ritual of taking the truck out on frosty days with chainsaw and axe. Having stacks of wood in the yard is a bank account of sorts. I feel secure when there is at least 2 cords for the winter in the yard
A couple of years ago we noticed that the old walnut trees on our property were showing signs of rot and becoming a hazard. I mourned when they were taken down. One
especially held many memories. The tree was a shady oasis that was we enjoyed in the hot summer months. It was, split, stacked and became cordwood that kept us warm for two winters- its second gift to us.
This poem is for that tree…
A TREE MEMORY
The fire burned hot
the memories of the stately tree wafting skyward
up through the chimney
to eternity
A century of shade and thousands of nuts
gathered by humans, squirrels & birds
is no longer
Farmers planted the tree
an English walnut grafted onto black walnut rootstock
finally yielded to its dark cousin
It stood the comings and goings
of several families
including my own
On lazy summer afternoons
my little boy would swing on a tire
suspended on a rope from a thick limb,
or splash in a blue plastic wading pool
Under its drooping canopy
Its fate?
the rot of aging
turned asset to hazard
The tree tumbled earthward to the whine of a chainsaw
What remained?
A huge stump and stacks of firewood
waiting to feed the woodstove
After two years my sorrow has dissipated
Two young saplings replaced the tree
Light fills the spot where it once stood
I stand close to the fire on cold winter days
reveling in its warmth
By Alanna Pass 
Beautiful poetry.
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Thank you!
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I love this Alanna. I also have a thing for trees. We lost two elms (I wrote about them in Afterlife – https://intentionalinterplay.wordpress.com/2017/10/28/afterlife/) and now they stand as two heron wood sculptures. I love how you relate the firewood to another gift from the trees. I had never thought of it this way but I am grateful that you led me to that perspective. Thank you. Stay warm!
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Yes, I remember your post clearly. I was regretful I was not that creative when my tree was taken down!
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