Commentary

I’m a Lumberjack

February 5, 2025   ·   0 Comments

By Jasen Obermeyer

The temperature outside is freezing. Wind blowing. Snow falling. But inside, as I relax in the lazy boy chair, a good book in hand, I’m comforted by the bright red and orange lights in the fireplace. The sound of crackling wood, sparks going off.

Being in the country on a property loaded with trees, and forests interspersed through the crop fields, my family and I have an ample supply of firewood for the winter. It’s a great way to heat our house and save on the heating bill. We’ve always been surrounded by trees, and because of that, I’ve always had a fascination with them, the shapes they form, and just wood in general.

Even when it’s not for firewood; when I was seven, I watched my dad cut a 30-foot tree right outside our house, with my mom and Nonna using ropes to help pull it down, excited the next day to remove the debris.

It’s become a way of life. Every spring and early summer was about going out back to see what new damage the winter brought to the forest, like going on an adventure.

At first, being too young to handle any equipment, I mainly just watched my dad do it. It was always exciting seeing him cut a tree down; the anticipation of the beastly looking plant falling, crashing, the explosion of twigs and branches in the vicinity, it always made me happy.

Then came the heavy work; cutting it into pieces. Again, my dad did that, I just cleaned up the small stuff. But I always looked forward to when he did tree work.

As I entered my teenage years, I got more responsibilities; transporting the big logs in our tractor, driving around the property to our wood storage shelter, and preparing to split the wood (I always enjoyed looking at the pile, eventually shaping it like a fort). I personally enjoyed doing tree work at the other end of our property, because of the seclusion; just my dad and I (sometimes my older brother and Nonna). It was a nice bonding moment between us. We were in our own little world, despite the sound machinery. Once a tree falls perfectly, and leaves just gently fall down; it’s surreal.

Yup, I definitely felt like a lumberjack.

The harder work I took on as I got older. My dad would cut the tree down, I’d then cut it up, and haul it away with our tractor and trailer. And now, as I’ve gotten used to the chainsaw, I cut the trees down myself, and do most of the work. And I enjoy it every time.

But that’s just one part. Next is splitting wood. Renting and borrowing a splitter is always fun, just seeing the machine hard at work, sometimes really hard if it was a stubborn log, and especially when the log’s diameter is over two feet!

We’d get the splitter for Friday, do some work, then rest, because the weekend would be a long one, to get all the wood split. Up early, gloves, hat, ear muffs, and away we went. Stop for lunch and dinner. Once finished, and sunset settled in, I’d marvel at the pile of split wood, the smell lingering in the immediate air for weeks.

And by the fall, we’re piling the wood outside our basement, ready for another winter. We’d just stand back, and look at our neatly piled wood, knowing it was a good season. Each year is different – unique – despite doing the same work and process.

As my dad’s retired from cutting/gathering the wood, my friends and I come together and help each other out with this, and it’s always fun; talk, make the work easier, a bit more fun, then relax with a barbecue and beers.

Now as an adult, I’ve come to learn more and understand the process, and the planning involved to make the work go a bit faster and smoother, but also safer. Understanding how a chainsaw works, every piece of equipment needed.

I’ve also come to learn about the different trees on the property. The bark, the leaves, colour and smell of the wood; we have a great variety of maples, ash, cherry, some ironwood, elm, poplar, and birch. Understand the quality of the trees, whether it’s good or not to burn.

And most interestingly, I’ve worked as an arborist during the summer as a side gig. So I’ve learned more about tree work. It’s definitely made me appreciate the skill involved; recalling when I was 16 and my dad cut down a birch right beside our house, the rope burning into my hands as I’m trying to keep the sections of the trunk from falling onto the roof or hitting my dad. For safety and expertise, get an arborist.

As I enjoy the warmth of the fire, I’m reminded how much tree work is part of my life, my identity. How proud and happy I am of the memories created. While it’s hard work, the emotional reward is truly special.

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