Matt Liere: How much does a cord of wood actually cost?

I come from a long line of frugality.

My mother and father, teachers by trade, were committed to spending less and saving more whenever possible. They avoided paths through town that tempted their passions, skipping stops at Nordstrom and the General Store for discount warehouses and bargain marts. They drove older cars and beat-up trucks, grew a large garden, canned their own fruit and stored produce in a hand-dug root cellar.

Both were products of parents who grew up during the Great Depression. My grandmother once told me that, during that time, she’d halve a brick of Velveeta cheese with her neighbor, and split the 35-cent cost. I inherited these traits, too, opting to forgo quick-but-pricey stops at the fast food drive-thrus, shopping for kids’ sports gear at secondhand swaps, checking pawnshops for deals on tools and outdoor equipment.

When we built our house, in 2012, I elected to front much of the preliminary work to reduce our mortgage debt, including the purchase and installation of a wood stove to warm our house and ease heating costs. We had an abundant supply of wood in the area. With a little work, we could avoid rising electric expenses during the winter months.

After 13 years of burning wood, I’m second-guessing this rationalization.

I have long suspected the savings are meager – or perhaps nonexistent – but deep down I did not really want to know. How would I teach my kids the value of working hard, of being part of a contributing family member? Felling trees, splitting and stacking wood was one of my chores as a boy, and I lovingly passed that assignment on to my own offspring. What life lesson would I be teaching if I simply allowed them an electric thermostat to determine their level of comfort at the flick of a button?

When they questioned why I did not just buy wood to be delivered to my doorstep, I would scoff. Why pay $300 a cord for wood that I could gather myself, with their help, for free?

And I enjoyed the labor. The pleasure of watching the lean-tos fill with dry tamarack, fir and pine. The pitchy hands. The crack of dry rounds under the swing of a weighted maul.

But the kids are grown and gone now, leaving my wife and I alone to manage the five cords necessary to heat our home. Next door, my father also needs five cords, doubling the workload. I purchased a gas splitter to eliminate much of the ax work, and recently bought a dump trailer to maximize quantity and reduce the number of trips in the wood truck. I thought this would make things easier.

In truth, these acquisitions and the cost of fuel, maintenance and licensing have only pushed us farther into the red. Throw in the occasional trip to the ER for related injuries and any improvements in efficiencies become negligible.

The root of the problem lies with the labor of handling the wood itself. The hidden costs applied to each piece of wood every time it is touched before landing in the fire. Fell the tree, cut into rounds, pick up rounds and split, throw splits into truck, remove splits from truck, stack wood for later use, remove wood for present use, arrange wood in fireplace and light.

Then, pray for heat. Pray your back spasms cease. Pray you have enough wood to last through winter. Pray the cost of a cord doesn’t go above $300 next year.

At that price, it’s a done deal.