Wood-Burning Furnace

This is a shot from my back yard during a recent sunset. Although we're facing east, the sunsets produce spectacular light shows in this direction. The weeds you see need to come down even though I find them pretty....I didn't do one lick of push mowing this summer, and now you see the result. The only thing that's gonna get through this stuff is a bush hog.

Speaking of unwanted things and pesky irritants in life, we turn now to a new source of irritation for Chesapeake Bay Mother: my father's acquisition of and obsession with an outdoor, wood-burning furnace.

Chesapeake Bay Mother is contributing again today, because I've been working the paying job and have been too stressed out with computer issues to focus on the blog.

Enjoy! (Or, as a friend--for whom English is a third language would say-- "EnJOIN.")

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THE WOOD BURNING FURNACE
OR SMOKE GETS IN MY EYES, EARS, NOSE AND MOUTH
by Chesapeake Bay Mother

"Husband proclaimed he was getting an outdoor, wood-fueled furnace to heat our house.

I got to select the site of said furnace, since I had no other say in the whole matter other than my statement of refusal to participate in trudging outdoors in winter to load wood anywhere--including into the furnace. Husband said OK...he gets weak when it comes to something he wants to buy.

I chose a location remote from our home to satisfy my unreasonable need to keep what looks like a smoke-belching johnny house* far enough out of the picture so our curb appeal still registers "rural waterfront" as opposed to "backwoods functionally obsolete with no teeth." Victory for me. Pouting for Husband. He must now install the thing which entails burying about 150' of massive line underground and connecting to our oil-burning furnace in the basement. Poor baby.

I mean what I say about myself and wood, having had an interior wood stove in the past. I don't mind cold; if it means wearing a coat indoors, so be it. I'm tough and willing to hibernate. But the days of dropping heavy logs on my bare toes at 3 AM are gone forever. Coincidentally, I have a friend who during her wood-burning years, participated in domestic violence with her now ex-husband, when they threw fireplace logs at each other at about 3 a.m. Logs don't kill people; people kill people. But logs can do the job.

My unwillingness to be a good sport probably means Husband will be around to man the wood needs of his newest novelty. On those days when he must be away, we will see who takes his place. I'm guessing one or more bubbas.** And if we get the right breeze, we won't all die from smoke inhalation or catch a cinder and burst into flames.

Then he can realize the fruits of his labor--bragging to the neighbors about how much money he is saving, not counting the huge outlay and installation costs of the furnace, which resides within flirting distance of his beloved John Deere, who appears to be turning somewhat greener of late."

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CHESAPEAKE BAY WOMAN'S COMMENTS

* Indeed when Chesapeake Bay Son first saw this outdoor wood-burning furnace, he said, "Why is there a Trudy's Toilet in Nanny's yard?" Trudy's Toilets is a local portapotty outfit, and this furnace thing looks just like one. (BTW - Trudy's are the BEST portapotties ever. She even puts bouquets of flowers and mirrors in hers. The mirrors are for make-up application or checking one's nose, for those of you ready to make a snide remark about why there would be a need for mirrors in a portapotty. Sometimes there's even a sink to wash your hands. It's a first class operation. For real.)

** No offense to Bubbas, seriously; she has nothing against Bubbas, and have mercy nor do I. Bubbas make the world go around, at least the world known as Mathews County. Are there any with a bush hog who would like to make some extra money?

Lastly, I'd like to say this about all that furnace commotion above:

The distance between the site CB Mother selected for the wood-burning furnace and the house in which they live is approximately the distance from New Hampshire to Rhode Island. You can't just get up in the middle of the night and toss a log on the fire. You have to get out your GPS and pack provisions for the trip.

When that thing is going full steam, it looks just like the paper mill at West Point - complete with the pile of logs right next to it. You need to turn your windshield wipers on and blink back tears just to get through the smoke.

Chesapeake Bay Father opted for this heating mechanism because the cost of fuel oil was sky high, and he figured this would be a way to save some money.

The only thing he's saving is a place at Number One on Chesapeake Bay Mother's List. Yes, that list.