Zeez are my Fotos

I 'spose strictly speaking, ours are Antipodean Noodles.

When HolsatiaRedneck makes noodles with his trusty Dolmar, those are Continental Noodles.

 

Ill gonnae noodle the hell out of some fir - Continental Fir noodles.
Dry it (ill check out scottys tarp thing), drown it in wax... its gonnae be *%&/i# great.

 

Due to the clamour and incessant demands for pictures of the stacked pine (please stop phoning and writing) here it is:



Much has I love IBCs, sometimes you just want a nice old-fashioned rick to make the most of the sun, and what you see here is the absolute primo spot for nearly dawn to dusk exposure.

Note that these splits of Pinus Radiata (known as Monterey Pine to space-faring peoples) are supported bottom and sides by fence rails of ... yes, Pinus Radiata.

The old, straight-edge, weather-beaten pine and the young, fresh splits exposed for the first time to the kiss of sunbeams. Pine supporting pine. That's their code of honour.

 

Put a second storey on the cage twins today:


Despite the fading light making it a so-so photo you will notice the more formal arrangement on the second level. Learning all the time, I realized that one of the advantages of the cage is that you can stack without worrying about stability - nothing can fall over. So I left the biggest gaps I could, trying hard not to let any split "nest" in the others. You can't really see that, but I may do a better photo later in full sunlight.

And yet, in a way this is all a LIE! It's a facade; a Potemkin village; a stage set.

I must reveal the deception - behind the first row there is nothing:



But this too is deliberate. Maximum exposure to air both between each split and behind (and below, note the pipes acting as rails).

At least until I need more storage and fill up the middle.

I am enamoured of the "pipe sandwich" method of construction that I stumbled on. It's very strong and gets better every iteration. Stainless steel hose clamps are the new cables ties. Here's some detail:



Metal strapping to secure the back pipe over a two-by-four, and even that is screwed to the IBC with a clamp underneath. The horizontal pipes are heavier 25NB than the 20NB I used on my earlier constructions: both to prevent bowing in the longer span and just for general robustness.

And as the sun sets behind my architectural masterpiece I think I know how Frank Lloyd Wright must have felt when he was 90. Yes, my back is sore.

 

That is awesome, your wood will dry in no time and stay clean to boot. As you get more, will you cycle the dry wood out of the cages into stacks, to make room for wet wood? Or do you have access to enough cages so you can build a little town?

 

There probably won't be a lot more.

I don't really live up to the ethos of wood hoarding this site exemplifies. Since I'm renting I could be thrown out at any time if the owner wanted to sell or put a family member in here. Then I would have the cost and hassle of moving all that wood. Two years' worth would be about my limit. So on the hoarding front I'm not fit to lick other member's boots (those of you who wear boots).

But more importantly, what happened to your delightful "woodcut" (so appropriate!) avatar with the little quote about fondness for wood stacks? It was my favourite one on the board. Take it back before someone else nabs it!

 

Oh yes, the transitory existence of the renter! I'm a landlord, but I try to be a benevolent one.

 

>Insert snide joke here about benevolent landlord being an oxymoron<

I've decided to do my first Thumbnail post. These photos are completely gratuitous and only for the masochist viewer. Thing is, I wanted to use up the roll of film I had in my iPhone (it's one of the older models).

They do at least show the gaps I managed to get in my stacking, and also the artistic colour bands of (from bottom to top) gum stacked mostly sideways (and therefore showing relatively fresh innards), gum stacked north/south (and therefore showing weathered ends), topped by still-fresh pine.

 

Very satisfying, and artistic!

 

Suddenly life has no meaning.

 

It's true I feel disillusioned.

But I need tough love to shake me out of it. You shouldn't panda to me.

 

Of Mice and Men
Sometimes things don't go as you'd hoped. And those failures tend to come back to you again and again. And yet, perversely, when things go well we tend to forget quickly and perhaps fail to savour the moment. So, without going all Pollyanna on you, allow me to take some time to bask in the glow of a plan that went much better than I could have hoped.

At the end of last week I became aware that there was an uninvited guest in the house.

Although we actually had a lot in common - our ancestors were from Norway and arrived here in NZ on sailing ships - I decided that Rattus Norvegicus (I intercepted some of his mail and found out his name) would have to go.

It took me a few days to be sure it really was him in the roof space. At first there were just small noises that could have been, say, the house settling or the metal roof cooling, or sticks fallen on the roof and being blown around - late at night sounds seem exaggerated. I guess he was just moving the furniture in and getting his internet hooked up and so on. But when I started getting woken consistently in the early hours by scraping and scuttling noises I figured he was coming in after a night out with the boys still drunk and lurching around bumping into things. Worst thing was that this was all going on right above my bed.

It kind of creeped me out, so I moved my mattress to a spare room on the opposite side of the house for the time being. Obviously my Benevolent Landlord would be ultimately responsible for taking care of evictions of this sort, but it was a Thursday night that I became really sure, and I had to go through the agent and then wait for action. I've got kind of a 'benign neglect' thing going on with my landlord. Apart from regular inspections he doesn't bother me and I look after the place and don't bother him unless I really have to. When I do, things will get done, but not in a great hurry. I had at least the weekend to wait, so I decided to see what I could do myself.

One of the out buildings - the workshop - has a crude ceiling of particle board with no insulation between it and the roof and there have been rats and possums living in that space ever since I moved in - and long before too judging by the number of old-fashioned rat traps I found lying around. Anyway I had gradually been eliminating them with more modern traps and, ironically as you please, had just killed the last and most wily possum from the workshop the day before I heard the rodent noises in the house (The possums had driven out the last of the rats - working outside I heard them fighting pitched battles a couple of times).

So my self-congratulation was short lived. No time to rest on my laurels. But ... what did I have in the house: Rats or mice? And how would I get to them? The roof space is shallow, stuffed with fibreglass insulation leaving only a narrow gap above, and hiding the joists (or whatever you call them) that I would have to crawl on to get from the hatch entry on the opposite side of the house to above my bedroom. Plus I hate being around fibreglass "batts" (as we call them). You can breathe in the tiny fibres and they can get into your skin. I REALLY did not want to be moving about up there. I had visions of a foot going right through the ceiling (I'm not exactly a small person).

The hatch cover consists merely of a ceiling tile slightly bigger than the square hole and with insulation glued to the back of it. You simply get up on a ladder and lift it up and away from the hole and place it beside the opening, or can take it out diagonally. I had an idea.

What if I made a replacement hatch cover with my traps on it instead of insulation. I already had effective rat and mouse traps of the same basic design where a rubber 0-ring is stretched around an opening that the rodent has to put his head through to get at the bait (peanut butter is consistently effective). He trips the 0-ring to come off the rim by pushing against a trigger and has an attractive green rubber necklace that is perhaps just a teeny bit tight, but by the time he finds that out he's bought it ... in every sense of the word. Sounds like a plan.

And so, I give you ... the Rodenator


Rat trap in back with bait chamber in place (the peanut butter is in a little plastic capsule to stop mice and other beasties stealing it without tripping the trap). Mouse trap in front with chamber detached to show detail. A little blob of peanut butter to the right (first sample is free, kids - then you're hooked).

You may have noticed that this board is not square. I just didn't have one big enough. But it worked out very well to have a big gap as we'll see. The length is right to fit snugly in the cover channel. You may also have noticed it's very dirty. That's intentional - no human smell (I use gloves to prepare the bait).

Now ... the hatch is far from the bedroom in question, but near my relocated mattress. In other words between me and the rat/mouse. So, either the animal stays were he is and doesn't disturb my sleep and eventually we get the professionals in. Or he ventures out and runs the gauntlet.

First night: nothing. A good night's sleep at least.

Second night, about 5AM I'm roused from sleep by a slow rhythmic thumping which at first I can make no sense of: thump ... thump ... thump. Ah! the trap?!

I get up and fetch the ladder, but there's no need. Rattus "RIP" Norvegicus has rolled off the board and out the hole and is on the floor. Quite dead. He must have been thumping against the skirting board.

But was he alone? I decide to put the Rodenator under the house since that's the likely entry point into the walls and thence into the ceiling space. Nothing for two days so I put it back in the ceiling. I haven't been awakened since the kill, but you never know. Then today after a particularly challenging morning I decided to take a nap. Mattress is still in the alternative room. Dozing I hear slight scuffling noises above me. Very slight. Could be twigs/contraction, etc. Then a distinct click and a few taps. Then nothing. Taking the board out I find I've snagged a mouse. Another clean kill. Rodents 0, Rodenator 2.

Hopefully that's it. I may have to get under the house in the (useful American term) crawl space and see if I can find a hole that needs plugging. I don't mind going under there. Just ordinary dirt and cobwebs.

 

That is an ingenious trap! You have mastered an important landlord skill, the eviction process.
Before: After (made into a purse):

 

That must be what you would call a Pack Rat.

Or is it a Rat Pack.

 

Used to hoard rent money.

 

It's getting close to fire-worthy weather here in the best little country in the world (Small Country Awards 1987 - Southern hemisphere class - 260-270,000 km2 division)

Actually had a couple of chilly evenings already, but was waiting for the chimney sweep and now that he's been I'll set an arbitrary date of 1 May as the earliest day. This will allow me to measure my usage over a nice round four months.

However ... I'm a bit disappointed by how little properly-seasoned softwood/kindling I have to hand. Plenty chopped and stacked, but too green. Only about 3-4 weeks' worth of really good stuff.

But I have a cunning plan. It's time for another episode of ...



This time it will a steel pipe frame built up around my wood burner to act as a makeshift "kiln" to finish off softwood splits with the heat coming off the stove.

As luck would have it, I already have everything I need. Lotsa pipe, two light-duty scaffolding end pieces, some wire racking to hold the wood, and pipe fittings (feet, corners, tees) that I bought two years ago intending to make an indoor "industrial chic" firewood rack, but never used for that, as decided I prefer a miniature "vee twin" arrangement for my seasoned wood (i.e. a cinder block and two short lengths of 2 x 4).

Here's the building site:



The wood will be well clear of the sides/top and won't obstruct the door. I'll use only clean-cut pieces (none with 'whiskers' that might come off and fall on the stove top). I always have a bit of ventilation when the fire is going, so I don't think humidity will be excessive.

I'll take a leaf out of Paul Bunion's book and weigh/mark some pieces periodically to see how it works compared to those left in the stack.

That reminds me ... while I've been off-line (ran out of monthly MB allocation) I've been pondering some of the BS wisdom I've read recently on this board. For instance, PB has in his sig that "The wind just blows, energy in the form of heat is what dries wood", which sounds reasonable ... however, I remember reading in Norwegian Wood the advice to prefer a windy spot to a sunny one if you have the luxury of both. Maybe just in Norway. But the wind does a great job of drying my damp cotton washing hung out on the clothesline.

My stacks are all in sunny, somewhat sheltered locations, but if anyone wants to put this to the test with an single uniform batch divided into two locations - one shaded/windy, one sheltered/sunny - and stacked identically, I'd be interested to know the results, either by weight or by moisture meter. Which brings me to the second thing I wonder about.

I'm a little sceptical about moisture meters - at least consumer-level ones. I wonder if anyone would like to compare a moisture meter with a systematic weighing program to see if they really track in unison. I would be very interested to see how that goes. Or even two meters of different brands compared over time.

 

I put chips and skinny splits in a galvanized tub near the stove. It doesn't take long (a week or so) for them to dry out.
If you run a dehumidifier or fan, you could put your wet kindling nearby.
Or take a page from the brilliant iBob,
who thought to dry his wood with a heat source paid for by his employer!
Park Life