CHUNK! CHUNK! CHUNK! CRACK!

Thoreau once said that firewood warms you twice: once when you cut it, and again when you burn it. That was clearly the case yesterday, when I worked up a nice sweat despite the fierce November wind and temperatures barely getting above the mid-40's.

CHUNK! CHUNK! CRACK!

Splitting firewood by hand looks to the observer like a simply application of brute force: repeatedly hitting the log with a heavy object until it surrenders. And it is possible to split wood that way, though it will take much more effort than it has to. Done properly, splitting firewood is more like a seduction than a battle. You look for the where the wood is ready to split, then apply the right amount of persuasion in just the right place until it yields.

CRACK!

Wood is hardest to split when it is freshly cut. The moist fibers are pliable, and the log just dents instead of splitting. As the wood dries out, it becomes more brittle, and the fibers begin to pull apart of their own accord. Cracks appear in the ends of the log, showing where the internal stresses are highest.

CHUNK! CHUNK! CHUNK! CHUNK! CHUNK! CHUNK! CRACK!

There are two basic tools, the axe and the wedge. The wedge is used for particularly difficult logs, but I consider it cheating. My axe is not sharp. You could not, for example, use it to cut down a tree. Cutting down a tree requires cutting across the grain, but the job of a woodsplitting axe is to force itself between the grain and push the fibers apart.

CHUNK! CHUNK! CRACK!

Each swing of the axe focuses all the force of my body into the point of the axe. I begin with the axe behind me, almost touching my tailbone. I swing it in a high arc over my head, then drive it down into the wood assisted by gravity. Sometimes, when the log is almost split, I will use a more modulated swing to keep the two halves of the log from flying too far away. Sometimes the log will split asymmetrically, sending a small piece of wood flying across the yard and the axe swinging around my body.

CHUNK! CRACK!

Splitting wood is timeless. There is nothing except the periodic swing of the axe, the positioning of the log for the ideal stroke, and the ferrying of split and unsplit wood. It requires just enough thought to keep your mind focused, but not so much that you can't think about other things. It becomes almost meditative. After 30 minutes or an hour of swinging the axe, I look at the pile of freshly split firewood and marvel at how much I accomplished.