Come On, Baby, Light My Fire

The other week I was with my mother standing in line at the store when she turned to me with a smile and said,
"Hear this? This is a sixties song...probably danced to it a thousand times." (Before your head spins with images of Woodstock and scenes from the movie "Forrest Gump" let me clarify that my mom and her gaggle of beehive-haired girlfriends boogied to the jitterbug, stroll, and twist on Friday nights at Paul's Disco in upstate New York where she grew up.  I assure you her fond memories of dancing a thousand times to any song is rather clean cut and Sandy-like from the movie "Grease" vs. the alternative connotation associated with the decade.)  This musical pastime of my mom's carried into my early '80s childhood. It wasn't uncommon for me and my sisters to be whirled into a kitchen-floor waltz or taken captive for a low dip and opera-worthy finish.  But the hits, guitar riffs, and icons of the 1960s have been pointed out to me (by both my parents) for my entire life in this same line-at-the-store fashion.  That's why it's not overly random for me to reference a 1967 hit by The Doors in a blog post title.  Unfortunately for you my post isn't about the '60s or dancing.  It's about fire. And the common denominator is my mom.

My mother can be described as a woman that is ahead or behind the times, depending on your perspective.  She wore leggings under skirts before it was fashionable; dismissed the allure of smoking when all her friends (and society at large) gave it two thumbs up; made our baby food at home; used fish emulsion to fertilize her little veggie garden in the 1970s when "organic gardening" was unheard of; stalwartly breastfed my sisters and me when factory-made formula was the social norm; and decided to get her Ph.D. via correspondence courses while raising three girls under the age of 18.  In many respects she's the kind of person that walks to the beat of her own drum.  The way I see it, she sticks with what makes sense to her in a practical, moral, spiritual, and natural sense regardless of what's trendy at the time.  I think the decision to bring a wood-burning stove (and design a sizable family room to house it in) when my parents moved from their first home to their second in 1980 was one of these same situations.  Although winters can be quite cold and relatively long where I grew up, wood-burning stoves aren't so common in the affluent suburbs of Connecticut outside New York City.  Regardless, my parents really liked wood heat, had access to plenty of firewood, and didn't mind the maintenance associated with this heat source. From my childhood through college and until I moved to Kentucky in 2007 I was used to having a fire heat our home's main three rooms from October through April.  And my mom was the keeper of that fire.

Flash forward to last September. I didn't set out with the notion to "have a wood stove when I grew up"; but when Weldon and I married in the spring of 2010 we rented his grandparents old house which came complete with an HVAC system (an add-on to the original 1960 construction) AND a wood stove in the basement.  It didn't matter to us that the stove hadn't been used in years, we set out to get it back to it's former glory and kick our propane bill out the door!  With the greatest intentions we started the process.  A friend of ours (a former chimney sweep) took a look at everything with us.  Unfortunately, we discovered that there were long sinewy cracks down the length of the terracotta liner in the stone chimney.  This is very dangerous as it increases potential for a house fire should creosote build up, catch fire and draw flame up the length of the chimney and into the cracks where it could potentially reach flammable housing materials. It became clear very quickly that we could NOT use the stove until the old liner had been replaced.  We decided that the best replacement liner option for us would be a flexible stainless steel pipe with fireproof granular insulation (mixed with a bit of water) to fill the gap in the chimney surrounding the pipe.  The other option was to use a less expensive, yet shorter lasting, stovepipe to create a chimney within the chimney.  Despite the fact that we're renters, we felt it was overall the better choice to install the longer-lasting option.

Flash forward to this October.  As things often do when you homestead, farm, work and otherwise live your life, we didn't get the stove running last season after the wind was knocked out of our sails early on.  However, we picked up with the project this fall before cold weather set in.  I'm thrilled that this winter we are heating solely with wood! In about half-a-day's time (more like after evening chores and well into darkness), Weldon and a neighbor got the space cleaned up, the new liner installed, insulated, and the connection piping and new damper attached to the stove in the basement. Three ricks of wood had been cut, stacked, and covered last season so we were off the hook with that portion of the labor...at least to start.  Everything was ready to go; now came the fun part.

For anyone who's been a Boy or Girl Scout, built a campfire, or done anything beyond pushing the igniter button on a propane grill, the principles of building a fire in a wood stove are exactly the same.  It's all about wood, flame, and oxygen/air flow.  Making a fire from scratch is like the layering of a good pizza.  First, I put a layer of crumpled newspaper in the bottom of the stove. (Note: If I'm RE-starting a fire that has lingering coals, it's best to have all my layers ready outside the stove before the first piece of paper goes in. Paper = Ignition)  Next, a scattering of kindling -- these are small, twig-like, easy-igniter-type sticks.  Then I top this layer with a couple medium-sized very DRY pieces of wood -- these tend to be light in weight and have a rough, splintery surface. I'm always sure these logs are stacked in a fashion that will allow a lot of air flow between them.  Then I open the damper to create a draw of air up the flue (the alternative is a very smoke-filled room and watery, itchy eyes).  Now is the moment to strike the match and light a few pieces of the paper. Finally, I close the door and be sure that the fire catches from the paper to the kindling to the larger dry wood.  After a short time (roughly 10-15 minutes) when the flames are really roaring around the logs, heavy wood can be added for a long, slow burn and the air valves can be closed to lessen the oxygen (but not enough to smother the fire).  This process will heat the material that the stove is made of (iron, soapstone, etc) radiating the heat from stove throughout the surrounding space.  We have not yet had the need for a blower, though it is a common addition to many people's stove setup.  Our stove is situated centrally in our floor plan, but slightly toward one end of the house opposite the bedrooms.  Personally, I prefer to sleep in a cooler room, so this setup is perfect in my estimation.

There's a primal elation in keeping a fire successfully.  I remember the smug persona I would assume after conquering this challenge decades ago in my parents' family room.  I never expected that same self-satisfaction would return when I lit my first "grown-up" fire a month ago.  Like Prometheus (or at least Tom Hanks in the movie "Castaway") I, yes I, had made FIRE!  I guess it's a good thing that in this case the apple didn't fall far from the tree.  To be fair I should add that Weldon (although a relative newbie with wood stoves) is quite enamored with keeping the fire and does so with relish.  Having a little chair and a shelf for his coffee mug nearby doesn't hurt either.  He tends to be a little more into the science of wood varieties and the finesse of degrees warmed or cooled.  I say, whatever floats your boat...or lights your fire...

For those of you wondering...here is a last bit of nitty gritty:
Our stove is a Fisher and probably 50 years old. It is NOT airtight by any stretch and isn't up to par with the latest and greatest of EPA low particulate emissions technology. However, it's what we have and it does a fantastic job keeping our roughly 1,300 square-foot basement and single-story home toasty warm at around 70 degrees.  Overnight or long days out tend to yield a drop in the overall house temperature by 2-3 degrees. I may need to give an update on these numbers as the outdoor temperatures continue to plummet through January and February. In the warmer spells of November when we let the fire "go out" the stove was capable of keeping hot coals buried in ash for well over 24 hours until we were ready to rekindle the blaze in preparation for a cold snap.  As long as the wood is a decent hard-variety (oak, maple, etc.) and the fire is stoked and re-stocked a couple times throughout the waking hours it works its magic beautifully.  Ashes, which make a nutritious addition to our hibernating garden plot, are scooped out of the stove on a regular basis to make space and keep the stove efficient.  We project we'll use 3-4 cords of wood this winter. Because we do all the labor to cut, split, and haul, heating with wood will be a major savings from our previous propane bill.  However, if we were to purchase the firewood, it would only save around $200.00.   Most all homesteading decisions come down to the ultimatum of time vs. money -- usually we spend the time, not the money.