Fire! Fire!*
Well, after playing with it for some months now, I guess it's time to mention my new toy -- a wood-burning fireplace insert, similar to the picture. Ours lacks the gold trim.
First, some reasoning. Our family was reared through the seventies, a wonderous time of shortage of both resources and money. All families, as I remember, were trying to squeeze a little more out of what was left. Gardens were all the vogue. One could send away for devices that boosted the fuel efficiency of '69 Impalas to over 70mpg. Pyramids could help sharpen razors and preserve bananas just as effectively as those carburator gizmos. And, of course, the first time people actually tried to improve the common fireplace.
That last technological innovation, at least, was a complete success.
As a family stuck in the seventies, we were to conserve oil and burn wood. Why? Because oil cost money, and we lived in a rural area in Western Washington State, ie. surrounded my woods. We literally had trees to burn. For free. As a result of all that childhood training, I can today spend hours staring into a fire, poking and prodding, marveling at the heat of my creations. I have learned to love chopping, sawing and stacking. . . if only to avoid doing all the other chores. . . .
My name is P. Staltor, and I am a pyromaniac. (Though not of the arsonist variety.)
One problem with fireplaces in the city, however, is the close proximity to our neighbors. Not a problem in the childhood homes, where one often had to strain through the acreage to even see that there were neighbors. Hey, my walk to the bus stop growing up was almost a mile long -- to the end of the driveway. Today, I can walk to five different public transit routes in 4 blocks or less.
Big difference.
So after a while, I got to feeling guilt about smoking out the neighbors, some with front doors less than 25 feet away from the chimney. They weren't mean about it, not at all; but one trip outside while the kindling was still starting was enough for me to realize there was a problem.
Also, our chimney dates back to 1942. It does not play nicely with the furnace. When trying to start a fire in our house one must make sure the fire draws strongly before the furnace kicks on. If the draw is weak at best, the furnace fan will suck the smoke right back down the chimney into the living room.
Once it does get burning, the old fireplace produced quite a bit of heat -- and sent it right up the chimney. One only warmed oneself by sitting right before the flames and basking in the infrared glow. One had to do this wearing a jacket, however, since the fire would suck cold air from behind you, creating a nice cool breeze on the back.
Finally, in times of stagnant air burn bans will prevent fires in anything but a new, certified insert or stove. Certified units burn much more cleanly than open fireplaces.
The insert solves all the above problems.
For those curious, gas was not an option. Why? Our street has no gas line . . . in the City of Seattle. No kidding. This is a nice neighborhood, but one founded by practical, working-class families in small houses. When the gas company did their rounds, they required (I think) 80% of the houses to switch to gas furnaces and/or stoves. Most of the people just opted out. Our neighbors across the street were forced to install a small propane tank for the new stove in order for Andrea to cook as she prefers, with gas.
Note the picture, where both the dog and the fire look fake
Also, I have aesthetic difficulty with gas. Gas fires have all the elements one would expect -- "logs" in a state of combustion -- but those elements play like an annoying film loop. Where is the bright yellow flame gently warming the newly-caught tinder? The maturing fire growing red with heat? The embers? The interplay of dissintegrating wood collapsing upon itself? Gas might be better than no fire, sure, but. . . .
Watching gas burn in a faux-log fireplace is like watching a Harry Potter photograph.
Gas has another strike, other than it unavailability and ugliness: Natural gas is a fossil fuel. Therefore, whatever you burn contributes to global climate change by releasing CO2 formerly sequestered underground. Firewood is composed of more recently acquired carbon. Therefore, by heating primarily with oil and supplementing with heat from the new insert, we avoid fossil fuel combustion. After a season I'll try to figure out how many gallons of oil/pounds of carbon we might avoid burning/producing.
I will admit this addition to the house probably won't qualify for Home Effinomic status. Despite the high cost of heating oil, it is still cheaper than wood . . . especially once one pays onesself for the time taken to locate, chop, stack, haul wood, not to mention the starting, the feeding, and the cleaning involved in burning wood.
Still, being able to indulge my fiery habit without worrying about whether the neighbors can breath is heavenly, almost as warm a feeling as the one that constantly wafts from the fan and circulates evenly throughout most of the house.
Ahhhhhhh. . . .
*Title best if screamed in the manner of Beavis.