The woodpile is holding up just fine, promising plenty of warmth during the next few months.

A well-known adage says we should have half our wood left when Groundhog Day rolls around, and this year, thanks to the really warm weather in December and early January, it looks like all my hard work will remain until the early summer warmth arrives.

It hasn’t always been that way.

Some years I’ve had to dip into the green wood set aside for the next heating season, or worse, gone scavenging in the back woods in search of fallen trees suitable for cutting up and stuffing into our little Jotul wood stove.

Burning wood is a messy business, filled with long hours of hard work cutting, hauling, then toting into the house several armloads each day, as well a cleaning up the specks of sawdust, dirt, bark and other debris that inevitably sticks to each piece of wood at least twice a day.

But it’s a delicious heat I wouldn’t want to do without. Nothing beats the warmth of blazing beech or ash, particularly when I’m able to sit in my favorite chair with a hot mug of cocoa and my kitty on my lap. And the sweet aromas of cherry and apple, first as it is cut, then as the flames consume it, can’t be duplicated any other way.

During the great ice storm of 1998 when electricity was cut off for weeks, we stayed warm in our home and were able to cook simple meals atop the little stove.

When a fall chill hits the air and expensive oil isn’t really necessary or wanted, a small wood fire, usually with softwood, is just the thing to bring the house back to a comfortable temperature.

The beautiful ash, oak, maple and birch, all good at providing lots of BTUs, are saved for the long winter nights when I stoke the stove as full as I can.

It is said that using wood to heat a home warms up the person two, perhaps three times. I know that’s true for me. Although I don’t yet cut my own trees from a back field I am trying to clear, I haul it by wheelbarrow, garden cart, or by the armful one load at a time from early spring to late fall to the niche in the garage set aside for the winter’s supply.

Then, over a period of weeks, I stack about three and a half cord as neatly as possible. The gentle or not so gentle clunk of each piece hitting another as the stack slowly grows is a satisfying sound and fulfilling vision. And when it’s all done, no greater sense of accomplishment can be found anywhere.

Stacking wood, and filling the stove box, is an art unto itself.

The wedges and rounds must fit perfectly. For me, it’s a test each year to see how snuggly I can stack the hundreds of pieces so that one can fit perfectly against another.

Filling the stove just before bed each night is another challenge. Success comes with practice. A large wedge and several small rounds often fill the box, or, sometimes, several wedges fit with each other perfectly. I know then that this tiny stove will hold the heat all night long.

I like burning wood for others reasons, too. I try to view all the work and sore muscles and back as a chance to get in lots of exercise.

And, my romantic side allows me to believe that I am in touch with my ancestors, those sturdy New Englanders who were self-sufficient, hard-working individuals who supplied virtually all of their needs.

That’s a nice thought.