“Cold Solstice” Glenn’s Substack
Glenn writes about myriad inspiring topics on his Substack. Many tell stories relating to the values underpinning Glenn’s Sheds culture. Here is a sample with a link to the original.
From Glenn’s Substack: “Magnetic North”
In the side yard to the north sits an old stump. Two feet tall, and nearly that wide, its purpose is a firewood-splitting stump. It has been there for years, idle for months at a stretch, a pillar of patience, then quite busy when the cold rolls in. It was cut from a tall Black Locust tree on the property. It’s difficult to take down a tree, to take its life. But positive-phototropism, being drawn to the light, by animal, plant, even fungus, plays strong. I clear another bit of the sky. Other cuts from the tree sit within view, holding up slate benches for the weary, or the ponderer.
Black Locust wood is about the best, in the eastern part of this wide nation, or anywhere, for holding up to the relentless duet of weather and time. This old stump has already worked with me for more than a decade, and looks like it won’t be retiring soon. The surface is axe-scarred and edge-chipped, but its heart is strong, and at the ready. The top surface is a little uneven, chosen with intention—a portion of it is level, a portion is not. This allows each piece of wood, chainsaw cut without concern for a perfectly square end, to find the sweet-spot of a landing, so that it might stand up on its own, waiting for the axe to fall—the epitome of receptivity.
The wood I cut today is Black Cherry and Black Walnut. Both are beautiful woods, prized for furniture for their deep rich colors. Both are also cut from this property, the trunks for lumber, the limbs for firewood.
I heft the axe, an old friend. The graceful lines of the handle fit my hand to perfection. It pulls me to ancient traditions and actions of survival; linking me both to past and present, as it weights my hand. It’s job today is to split the already coarsely split wood, and then split it again. The store of wood to burn can then run from large to medium to small to kindling. A fire-maker’s dream.