As mentioned previously I have for the last 6.5 years been working as a tree surgeon or if you're feeling fancy, an arborist. For the last 4.5 of these I have been running my own company Treeple - The Tree People, with my friend Tristan. The name came to me after a whole lot of umming and ahhing and going through numerous puns, which the Irish, and I, are very fond of. Is good to have a memorable name to stand out from the norm such as Paddy O'Murphy's Tree Cutting Services.
Arborism is something that I love doing and I wish that I had discovered it a lot younger in life. Starting as a 30-something ex-estate agent, who had always been fond of gluttony and extreme laziness, I was not in possession of the body or the musculature required to climb big trees and do hardcore physical work all day every day. Basically I was a fat bastard who had not refrained from eating all of the pies. 6.5 years later I am a little bit less so thankfully.
Working outside is a joy, even if the weather in Northern Ireland can be changeable and unpleasant to say the least. There are very few days that it absolutely pisses down all day, and I find extreme summer weather just as dreadful as extreme winter weather because chainsaw trousers are like duvets for your legs. At least if it is cold or wet you can dress up accordingly.
These are my other babies, the tools of the trade. From left to right: The Mozzi (Tristan has a similar one called the Gnat), Butterface (Tristan has one identical called Daily Bread - they get used all day every day and are our bread and butter), The Stihl (no nickname equals minimal love), The Old Maid and The Beast (120cc and a 36 inch bar). We have a few others that we can call on when required.
When we were extending the house we decided we should have a log boiler installed at vast expense. The benefits we thought were that we would get free fuel from my work, and as it was part of a renewable energy incentive scheme, we would actually get paid the more we burned. Seemed like a no-brainer.
One of the benefits of having your own tree surgery business is that you get a shit-load of wood as a waste product of your work. Luckily Tristan and I both live on old farms so we have quite a bit of space to store most of it.
This is the boiler and buffer tank that runs all of our heating and hot water in the office and home. We moved in in October, so just when the weather was starting to get cold and it quickly became apparent that I did not have enough seasoned (dried) wood of the correct size (it takes 50cm long logs), or seasoned wood of any size, so providing enough heat to the house and office was proving difficult. This, along with Mrs B on at me constantly to burn burn burn, so that we could start getting paid back some of the money we had shelled out, was a constant source of anxiety, and I was spending every waking hour worrying about it. My dreams too were predominantly based around cutting, splitting, stacking and burning logs for quite a while - more like nightmares if I'm honest.
Anyway we got through the first winter by burning bad wood, and borrowing bundles of seasoned logs from the father-in-law that were paid back in unseasoned ones, and walking around the woods finding large, long-dead branches on trees and cutting them off. I then took it upon myself to get busy preparing so as to not get in the same shituation again. I bought a lorry load of wood (trees basically), built a few drying areas in my yard and got splitting and stacking.
Any time I have a free hour or so this is what I have to do. Sounds like a lot of work? well, like money, firewood don't grow on trees you know - so it has to be done. Have a look at how much wood I have about the place drying and waiting to be burned, just for our consumption.
What is left of the timber lorry delivery still to be processed at my father in law's. Those three big rings at the front are a metre long, waiting to be split.
Two piles at Tristan's yard. He thinks they might be his. He will soon learn.
The boiler shed, logs ready to go.
The shed next to the boiler shed, also ready
What has been processed (and not burned) of the timber lorry load. Metre lengths to be cut in half - dry on the right, drying on the left.
Crappy soft wood ready to be split. These have the added fun and pleasure of having been covered in dexter shit and piss that has run down the yard from the cattle shed, above and behind the party shed.
Half of these piles are to be split and stacked, the other half to be cut, split and stacked. I have included my big-girl bicycle here for scale.
Little mini wood shack I built, works well.
The best one I've built, a lean-to against the wall. Loads of logs fit and they dry out fast, needs better ends though. And gutters.
Small logs for the stove in the house which we light every night for about 9 months of the year.
The sides of this makeshift one are rusty builders frames which are breaking under the strain. If I walk past and fart some logs will inevitably fall down.
Some small, some big. My original wood shed but nothing dries as well as if its outside.
Some lengths and bits and bobs that I'll get round to eventually. Hopefully we don't need to get anything big out of the lockup.
And finally. This one was meant to be my pride and joy (drying three rows of 50cm logs at a time) but it is the worst one. It is on the wall that gets hit the hardest by the shite weather, which is also the furthest from the boiler and the hardest to get to over soft ground. I also built it with two fence panels as the roof thinking the water would run just off it. Unfortunately this was not the case and in fact the panels have sagged in the middle, making more water pour down onto the logs when it is raining, hence the mouldy brown logs in the middle. The tarp is a temporary solution. Bollocks is what it is though really.
And that's about it.
So the answer to the question posed by the tongue twister "How much wood could a woodchuck chuck if a woodchuck could chuck wood?" in my case, is literally shed loads. And with the soft wood under the cattle shed, shit loads.
