Burning the Chair

I stepped on the back of it to crack the slightly damp slightly varnished wood. The paneled center slumped to the garage floor without a crackle or crunch or other satisfying breaking of wood sound. But the sides were different. The sides of the chair were much more hearty and the joints gave way only when I jumped up and down at midnight in our garage when our heating oil ran out and our wood pile was down to big fat damp birch logs that barely fit into our wood stove and even when they do don't burn well.

I set the chunks of chair on the lip of the stove by the vent in an attempt to dry out the wood that has been sitting in a burn pile across the street. Because that's what you can do when you live on a rural island. You can burn your old broken battered (but well-made- maybe we should keep it for decoration?) chairs outside. Or you can break it into pieces and use the heat to bake bread in the woodstove.

We are out of heating oil (#2) and firewood not because we can't afford to pay our bills (not yet) or are starving or have decided it is better for the earth not to release soot and carbon monoxide into the air, but because we have never had to fill a furnace or ensure that our firewood pile stay stocked with dry hard wood ready to keep us warm in our wingchairs by the stove.

Rachel said it felt like we were pioneers.
Pioneers in a 6000-square-foot heat-sucking behemoth.

The chair isn't burning very well this morning.
And its cold.

So we called Paul the oil man who is also the boatyard man and the gas man who is also a husband and a father.
And we will call Chuck who sells wood who also sells eggs who is also a farmer who grows huge Hubbard squash who is also a spoonmaker and woodcraftsman.

Because even though we live fairly independently on this island, we are still interdependent on the other islanders for services we can't provide or didn't think about.

And somehow, when I squash my desire for pure independence, that's OK.

Because unlike city living, at least I know that it is possible to run out of oil and run out of wood and foul my well water or run dry. That these resources don't just come out of a radiator or tap.

But it's also OK because I know that if those things happen, there are people I know by first name on this island that can fix it.