Blaze King Princess: Eyes Bigger than Woodstove
Posted on 16. Mar, 2009 by Laura-Jane - Whimfield in House, Personal
Cameron was already asleep upstairs, so it was definitely my duty to shut the house down for the evening. Specifically, this included making sure the woodstove was full to ensure a nice, long, overnight burn.
The woodstove was two-thirds full; it needed another log or two to be added to the stove before I could leave it for the night.
A normal person would simply open the door to the porch and bring a log or two inside to add to the fire. It wouldn’t be that hard. It’s, like, a four-second trip: open the exterior door, reach into the wood-box, and pull out the nearest log or two. It doesn’t even require going out into the elements. Easy.
But the wrench in my wood-burning routine was the giant, over-sized mother-of-all logs that happened to be sitting on the hearth right next to the woodstove. It was calling to me.
The evil half of my brain commanded, “Even though that log isn’t going to fit, just try to jam it inside anyway, Laura-Jane. Just try it. Won’t it be easier to try to shove that giant piece of firewood in an already-almost-full woodstove rather than take four-seconds to get an average-sized piece? Please, just give it a shot. Come on, you know you want to try it.”
Meanwhile the wise part of my brain was pleading softly, almost inaudibly, “Don’t do it. Are you crazy? That piece of firewood will never fit. Just slip some shoes on and get a smaller piece already. Please? It’ll be quicker in the long-run…”
I opened the woodstove’s hatch. I contemplated for a moment.
Even though I could faintly hear the soft whispers of the wise brain (”No, it’s impossible. Just forget about the monster piece.”), my evil brain compelled me to reach for the monster piece–that tempting giant tree-trunk.
I got the monster piece of firewood part-way in, and the hot coals started to consume it immediately. Of course, it didn’t fit; the monster piece just hung out of the woodstove like a mischievous tongue, gloating at me.
I took the poker and jabbed at the monster piece for a number of seconds. It didn’t budge. It still wouldn’t fit.
I contemplated my options. I poked harder and I moved some coals around. The monster piece of firewood still didn’t fit in. I couldn’t close the woodstove’s hatch.
Now, of course, the wise voice got louder. “I told you it was impossible,” the wise voice lectured. “You didn’t listen, and now look what happened. Giant firewood tongue is burning, crackling, and laughing at you.”
After a good six minutes of whining, poking, prodding, cursing, shoving and teeth gritting, the monster piece was finally in.
Moral
When we first got our Blaze King Princess woodstove, it was a new-born babe.
Now our woodstove is a seasoned veteran, and she’s teaching me to treat her with respect.
The woodstove has taught me to listen to my wise inner voice, even when it speaks so quietly I pretend it’s not there. Because in the end, the quiet wise voice always gets louder, and it’s the other voice that fades away.
Gary Gray
Mar 16th, 2009
Hi L-J
I can’t believe that you let your evil inner self outdo your good inner self for the sake of 4 seconds.
It took you 6 minutes plus an enormous amount of struggle to get that log inside the stove and the hatch closed.
Honestly, that’s 90 times the time and who knows how many times the effort.
You must be a true believer in the adage that sometimes the longest way around is the shortest way home.
Well maybe the log burned 100 times longer than the other log would have.
Let’s just say that it did eh. There, means justified and conscience cleared.
Smiles :o)
Gary
Andy Collier
Mar 16th, 2009
Careful jamming wood into your woodstove, my brother in law broke the glass on his wood stove door trying to get a too big log into it! Hundreds of dollars later to replace the glass he never tries to overload his stove anymore!
christy
Mar 16th, 2009
this had a better ending then i thought it would when you started the story. LOL. the ending i was thinking was you caught something on fire and had to wake cameron up and and and…
Michelle
Mar 16th, 2009
What a wonderful story! I love how you describe the log as sticking its tongue out at you. And your still small voice yelling at you… so funny.
Somehow, I could picture myself getting into a jam such as yours but mine would be trying to fix something my husband has told me not to touch (followed by several reasons why) and making a big ole’ mess of things. I usually end up having to confess and then deal with the lecture. You were fortunate that things worked out well for you. Lesson learned?
warren
Mar 18th, 2009
must…push…harder!
Laura-Jane - Whimfield
Mar 20th, 2009
@Gary – I know. I do it all the time, too. Don’t tell me you always do things the right way, first?! Where’s your sense of adventure? :P
@Andy – That’s a good way to learn a lesson. I didn’t jam too hard, because we wouldn’t survive without a woodstove in winter. Andy, we’d have to take you up on your unicorn offer (if it still existed)!
@Christy – Lol, thankfully, no. I agree. :)
@Michelle – Lesson learned indeed. I think. Maybe. Possibly.
@Warren – Hehe, tell me about it!
Anonymous
Mar 26th, 2009
Great writing LJ! I loved the description…I could totally picture you…and the argument between your wise voice and that other silly one.
Naomi
Mar 26th, 2009
PS. That was me :)
Aveek
Apr 2nd, 2009
Great website and wonderful story-telling.
Just a thought: Does the stove have a heat-exchanger? Otherwise you are losing half the heat output.
Laura-Jane - Whimfield
Jan 2nd, 2010
No heat exchanger. I don’t know much about them, actually.
loman bell
Dec 3rd, 2009
sure looks like a nice stove , mind me asking where they were made
been there too with the unbounding joy of having this everlasting burn compared to what at the time looks like a short one
i have been so stubborn at times for the big log input i had to jam and jam then a hammer and even sledge hammer it to just get the stick in the stove
Laura-Jane - Whimfield
Jan 2nd, 2010
The Blaze King is manufactured in BC, but we bought ours from a place in St. Louis, up in Western PEI.
Loman, a sledgehammer? Lol. You must be a very determined soul.