Craig Urda Russell writes:
It’s late autumn, and when I look out the window of my upstairs study I
can see the Chenango River through the now-barren trees.  It hasn’t been too cold in upstate New York yet, but it’s coming.   For almost
all of my fifty years living in this part of the world, I never really
thought much about how I would stay warm through the winter.  I just took it for granted that I would.  Every house I’ve ever lived in has had a furnace.  Whether it burned oil or gas, there was always a thermostat in the house somewhere.  All I needed to do was turn a dial or push a button, and the heat could come on.  Sometimes I didn’t even need to do that because I had a programmable thermostat that turned the heat up and down for me.  I never really had to think very hard about heat.  Few Americans do, beyond the constant concern of cost.  During the
few months, though, I have started to think about it, thanks to our
decision to rely on wood as our primary source of heat.  The
nature of heating with wood differs so much from the nature of heating
with other fuels that I’ve been learning a number of things about
technology, about time and patience, and about the nature of our
relationship with nature and the world.  Oil or gas forced-air
furnaces are usually hidden away in the basement, out of sight and away
from daily consciousness.  The main visible evidence of their existence is the thermostat, usually on the main floor of the house.  Turn
its little wheel, or push a button, and the furnace turns on, burning
its fuel and blowing the heat that results through the house’s ducts
until the thermostat registers the amount of heat you want and shuts
the furnace back down.  It’s fast, easy, neat, takes little time and even less thought. … With wood, though, I have to do much more, beginning with the seemingly simply idea of anticipating the future.  This isn’t as necessary with oil and gas, which are easily available all winter long.  While
it is possible to get wood during the winter, it’s not always easy to
do and it will probably cost you more than if you planned ahead.  You
not only want to get enough to get you through the winter, you want to
get it early enough so it can season – so most of the water can dry out
of it to provide a cleaner, hotter burn.  I bought mine in early September, but even then I was a few months too late.  Luckily,
the former owner left several cords of seasoned wood behind, and that’s
what we’ve been burning while the new stuff dries. … Sometimes, as I sit before the stove watching the kindling begin to
consume the logs, I dwell upon the sheer dangerousness of having a fire
in my living room, and upon how ingeniously the stove contains it.  Watching
it burn makes me think about heat and light and the dangers inherent in
both – dangers that aren’t apparent until you decide to take matters,
as much as you can, into your own hands and take control of that energy
yourself.  It makes me think about how we have
socialized the dangers and troubles involved in the production of heat
and light – and of the awareness and understanding, the competence and
freedom, that we have given up as a result.   (12/01/04)

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