Why I picked a wood-burning stove

My road to selecting a stove, and a wood burning stove be more specific, started in childhood. The first house I lived in just didn’t have the heating it needed, and it certainly didn’t have anything more than a closed off fireplace. But that was when I was very small, too small to have had much input. It was our next house that did it. A big fireplace, one that was open and worked. I can remember having my dad read to me by that fire and reading there myself. I can remember the cats curled up and happy near the blaze and Christmas carols in the air. It was beautiful.

And, after the typical stint in apartment living, when I got my own place, I wanted that same sensation. But fireplaces are cold. Really. When they burn the heat and hot air actually goes up and out of the house, pulling in cold air from other windows and doors. And they eat wood which is hard to get (physically difficult, as well as challenging to find). But the smell and the feeling is great.

My wood stove was under a thousand, an insert that actually goes inside the fireplace and looks really normal. It sips wood rather than guzzling it and (goodness) heat swims off from that glass. It is delightful. I can barely describe how delightful.

And the best part, as long as I can get out a few weekends to grab and split logs, that stove cuts down my bill 30 or 50 percent easy. And it is so much prettier than a heat vent. More romantic too…