Splitting Wood, Part 2 (Safety Glasses are for Sissies)

Who cares about the sawdust flying up everywhere? Not Will.

He cut the large chunks into smaller, stove-length rounds, then he and Dad loaded them on the splitter.

A few minutes later, we (using the term very loosely) have split wood that's ready for the woodburner. Dad throws it on the pile.

Since we don't have a source of Labor-Ready children hanging around, the wood gets piled in a huge pile. I started to think about stacking it instead of taking pictures, but then thought otherwise.

Some things, like cutting and splitting firewood, are therapeutic somehow. Maybe it's the childhood connection, or maybe it's just the physical labor part of it. It also serves as a reminder that our favorite season is here.