Wood stacking. I've done a lot of it in my time. I grew up in a farmhouse...and we heated with wood. We moved to a log cabin in the woods...and we heated and cooked/baked with wood. My husband and I moved to our first house and installed a fireplace insert. We moved to our second house (and forever home!) and installed a fireplace insert. I know I'm a broken record here, but I love love love the smell, the warmth, the ambiance of wood fires.
As a kid, I loathed stacking wood. Sweaty, dirty, pinched fingers, sore body, ugh. (Stop reading here if you're my dad...) Truth be told, I didn't really hate it as much as I said. I just liked complaining about it. I used to think I was roped into doing work...I now realize that I probably wasn't too helpful. Stacking wood was about together time, less about the job getting done. It was probably the longest time I ever had my dad captive as I chattered on endlessly. (And no, that's not an exaggeration...I always followed him, talking at him.) My brother and I busied ourselves, finding the smaller pieces and the perfect place to stack them. Working together to get a job done, with a promise of some baked trip to reward our efforts when we were done. It was actually...kind of....fun.
Now that we need wood, it's that type of togetherness that's coming to this farmhouse. Adrian is very serious about his job. And I hope you enjoy the pictures nearly as much as we enjoy this time together.