On Monday this past week a friend brought over his chainsaw and we cut down the three dead trees next to the house in the backyard. They weren’t huge, but at 30-40 feet tall the weren’t small either. It was a successful endeavor in that we got all three trees down without dropping any on the house or two walls that were in play.
I got to play with a good chainsaw. It was a good morning. I gave him all the big wood from the trunks that he’ll take home split for his fireplace on his awesome back porch. That left me with enough wood small enough not to need splitting from the branches to keep my firepit busy for many evenings to come, and also two giant piles of sticks. The thought of moving those to the front and loading them up to get rid of didn’t seem fun, so I made the executive decision to burn them on the next non-windy weekend night.
I was initially going to light the whole pile, but feeding them into the firepit over a couple of hours was probably a better call. I burned sticks, drank beer, and somewhat unexpectedly didn’t have to talk to the fire department. I figured there was a decent chance someone driving by on the interstate would call in my 10ft high flames.
I hope Oppo’s night has been good.