My new passion is splitting firewood. No, really, I love it! There's nothing more satisfying than the thunk of an ax digging into a log, making it fly apart into neat sections.
I should probably emphasize that my husband doesn't make me do it. In fact, I'm pretty sure he's grinding the enamel right off his molars at the thought of me alone in the barn, swinging an ax. That's where I split wood, usually while I'm waiting for pokey old Fritz to finish his grain. It's just as relaxing as petting the barn cats, and more productive. We need it - our wood stove helps reduce the amount of propane we use to heat the house all winter.
My work area, with a stack of last year's wood behind it and kindling-size pieces on the oak-plank block:
We keep seasoned wood in the barn so it's always dry when we want it. The rest of it is stacked outside to dry in the air and sun all year. In the winter, it's covered by tarps to keep the snow off, because we'll use at least half of this stack this coming winter. I'm working on filling that front center section between the trees next: