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| do u have piles?; wood piles, that is | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Oct 11 2013, 12:48 AM (195 Views) | |
| bachophile | Oct 11 2013, 12:48 AM Post #1 |
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HOLY CARP!!!
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![]() this year's wood pile. 5 cubic meters (1.5 cords for the metrically challenged) of olive/citrus mix. waiting for temps to dip so we can light the wood stove. |
| "I don't know much about classical music. For years I thought the Goldberg Variations were something Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg did on their wedding night." Woody Allen | |
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| Mikhailoh | Oct 11 2013, 02:22 AM Post #2 |
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If you want trouble, find yourself a redhead
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Hmm. Not a lot of olive or citrus in Ohio. How do they burn? |
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Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead - Lucille Ball | |
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| John D'Oh | Oct 11 2013, 02:50 AM Post #3 |
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MAMIL
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Olive sounds so exotic. I always imagine the smoke smells like olive oil, and kind of wafts airily about creating a sophisticated ambience. Reality is always so disappointing. |
| What do you mean "we", have you got a mouse in your pocket? | |
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| VPG | Oct 11 2013, 03:44 AM Post #4 |
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Pisa-Carp
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Did someone say olive oil? |
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I'M NOT YELLING.........I'M ITALIAN...........THAT'S HOW WE TALK! "People say that we're in a time when there are no heroes, they just don't know where to look." Ronald Reagan, Inaugural, 1971 | |
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| Jolly | Oct 11 2013, 03:46 AM Post #5 |
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Geaux Tigers!
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I've got about the same amount of pecan stacked. No piles for me. |
| The main obstacle to a stable and just world order is the United States.- George Soros | |
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| jon-nyc | Oct 11 2013, 04:10 AM Post #6 |
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Cheers
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Got my flue cleaned a few weeks ago. I might buy a little wood myself. |
| In my defense, I was left unsupervised. | |
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| bachophile | Oct 11 2013, 06:31 AM Post #7 |
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HOLY CARP!!!
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olive and citrus are hardwoods so they burn long and slow, but harder to ignite. most important thing is seasoning. when i get wood i make sure it was cut and dried at least a year previously, and the longer the better. smells lovely. |
| "I don't know much about classical music. For years I thought the Goldberg Variations were something Mr. and Mrs. Goldberg did on their wedding night." Woody Allen | |
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| Aqua Letifer | Oct 11 2013, 06:39 AM Post #8 |
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ZOOOOOM!
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Best way to do that, in my experience, is to just cut a hell of a lot of wood, and then tarp it up to keep it dry throughout the year. Behind where my dad used to work, there were just acres and acres of untamed forest. Once every couple years or so, we'd borrow his friend's woodsplitter and spend a good week or so getting the pile back up to size. |
| I cite irreconcilable differences. | |
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| Mikhailoh | Oct 11 2013, 06:41 AM Post #9 |
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If you want trouble, find yourself a redhead
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There's a great zinger in there if I but had the time to find it.
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Once in his life, every man is entitled to fall madly in love with a gorgeous redhead - Lucille Ball | |
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| Copper | Oct 11 2013, 07:19 AM Post #10 |
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Shortstop
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My neighbor has a wood pile that he hasn't touched in years. It produces a good size termite swarm every few weeks during the summer months. He keeps it right up against my fence. He is on my west so the prevailing wind keeps the termites coming this way. |
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The Confederate soldier was peculiar in that he was ever ready to fight, but never ready to submit to the routine duty and discipline of the camp or the march. The soldiers were determined to be soldiers after their own notions, and do their duty, for the love of it, as they thought best. Carlton McCarthy | |
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| Aqua Letifer | Oct 11 2013, 08:22 AM Post #11 |
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ZOOOOOM!
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Out walking in the frozen swamp one gray day, I paused and said, 'I will turn back from here. No, I will go on farther—and we shall see.' The hard snow held me, save where now and then One foot went through. The view was all in lines Straight up and down of tall slim trees Too much alike to mark or name a place by So as to say for certain I was here Or somewhere else: I was just far from home. A small bird flew before me. He was careful To put a tree between us when he lighted, And say no word to tell me who he was Who was so foolish as to think what he thought. He thought that I was after him for a feather— The white one in his tail; like one who takes Everything said as personal to himself. One flight out sideways would have undeceived him. And then there was a pile of wood for which I forgot him and let his little fear Carry him off the way I might have gone, Without so much as wishing him good-night. He went behind it to make his last stand. It was a cord of maple, cut and split And piled—and measured, four by four by eight. And not another like it could I see. No runner tracks in this year's snow looped near it. And it was older sure than this year's cutting, Or even last year's or the year's before. The wood was gray and the bark warping off it And the pile somewhat sunken. Clematis Had wound strings round and round it like a bundle. What held it though on one side was a tree Still growing, and on one a stake and prop, These latter about to fall. I thought that only Someone who lived in turning to fresh tasks Could so forget his handiwork on which He spent himself, the labor of his ax, And leave it there far from a useful fireplace To warm the frozen swamp as best it could With the slow smokeless burning of decay. |
| I cite irreconcilable differences. | |
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| Red Rice | Oct 11 2013, 07:09 PM Post #12 |
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HOLY CARP!!!
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Yeah, I miss having a wood fireplace. Only gas fireplaces in my condo. |
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Civilisation, I vaguely realized then - and subsequent observation has confirmed the view - could not progress that way. It must have a greater guiding principle to survive. To treat it as a carcase off which each man tears as much as he can for himself, is to stand convicted a brute, fit for nothing better than a jungle existence, which is a death-struggle, leading nowhither. I did not believe that was the human destiny, for Man individually was sane and reasonable, only collectively a fool. I hope the gunner of that Hun two-seater shot him clean, bullet to heart, and that his plane, on fire, fell like a meteor through the sky he loved. Since he had to end, I hope he ended so. But, oh, the waste! The loss! - Cecil Lewis | |
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