TheBanyanTree: My Fire Place

[Dale M. Parish]

My Fire Place

On the left side of the brick hearth, just below knee level, sits my
anvil.  It really needs to be on a stump of other large block of
wood, because a heavy blow could on it could crack the hearth
bricks.  I don't do any heavy forging in the fireplace, and I've
been careful, but I still should get a good block of hardwood to put
under it if I'm going to keep it there.  Better yet would be a good
dry cured stump cut to fit against the hearth, just a little taller
than the hearth. An anvil should be placed so that when the smith
stands erect over his anvil, the face of the anvil should be at the
level of his hanging wrist, so that when he holds the work in one
hand and brings the hammer down with the other, they're both a that
level, so that he doesn't have to bend his back or droop a shoulder. 
Ergnomics.  Before there was ever such a word.

Behind the anvil sits a selection of hammers-- light ones and heavy
one-- the heaviest is a four pound hammer.  Don't have much cause
for that in fireplace forging, but it belongs with the others.  A
one pound and a pound and a half, and a tack hammer round out the
collection.  Besides the hammers are the alphabet stamps.  I get a
miniscule delight in playing with these on soft metal-- especially
the tiny ones.  Takes a tiny tap with the tack hammer to make the
mark-- more than that and you've punched a hole in the bottom of
which letters and numbers are difficult, if not impossible to see.
Stuck behind the letters are an assortment of files-- bastards,
three corner and rat-tailed.  My tool-making buddies.  Take the
hammer and beat the metal into the general shape, then take the
files and bring out the tiny details of the tool.  I usually file
over the fireplace since the filings burn easily in the fire. 
They're hard on the flooring.  Also in a pile beside the anvil is a
gathering of chisels, punches, scratchers and the like-- essential
tools for playing with hot iron.

On the fireplace side of the anvil is the lead pot.  Haven't made
many balls lately.  Over the mantle, just below the 30-30 hangs the
.36 Navy black powder revolver that shoots the balls.  The mold is
wrapped in an oily rag inside an old 7.62 NATO ammunition box
upstairs, along with the ball ladle.  Been thinking about casting
some brass or bronze, but haven't accumulated enough green wax for a
very ambitious project yet.  Would love to cast TJ's dauphin ring,
but I don't have enough gold for that, either.

In the fireplace, on the two dogs made from a 120 pound railroad
rail, at the very back, lies the blackened remains of the last
backlog I burned last winter.  The ashes have been cleaned out, and
I've vacuumed around that log, but there was enough left that I
didn't see any use in taking it outside.  Faye used to want me to
clean out the fireplace each spring so she could put a large basket
full of fake ivy in it, but over the years, the soot from the
chimney slowly built up on that dirty thing enough that she even
decided that it was time for it to go.  But the house misses the
woman's touch.

On either side of the firebox are the swinging arms I had Mr.
Belcher put in-- hooks that will swing out and hold a pot or pot
hooks.  We built all-electric, knowing that the power goes off out
here enough that we'd be needing a place to cook sometimes.  During
the ice storm, we were glad we had them.  Six days with no power and
a freezer full of thawing stuff that needed eating.

To the right of the hearth, behind the fireplace set, leans the zinc
scrub board I gave her for our first Christmas.  She wanted a washer
and dryer; we could afford a scrub board and a clothes line.  She
wasn't real happy about the present, and decided that I could keep
it when she moved out.  Beside the scrub board sits the three-legged
pestal Genelita gave us years ago-- coarse, cheap Mexican Indian
crafted for touristas, but functional looking enough-- if someone
wanted to stone grind some whole-grain corn.  Above it, hanging from
the mantle, is a wisk broom that we use to sweep the shavings back
into the fireplace after building a fire by shaving pine kindling
wood.  It's also used to round up anything that spills out on the
floor.  Since we try only to burn water oak, or pin oak as it's
called around here, we don't have any "crackling" fires that pop
coals out of the hearth.  But we do spill stuff out punching up the
fire every now and then.  

On the mantle, across the back, lies the last air-boat propeller I
managed to rescue when we shut down the duck camps.  We had a fleet
of air boats, powered by Corvair engines sitting on the air-boat
frame kits you could order from Banks-Maxwell, who made the
propellers custom fitted for each engine, based on the horsepower
and torque, and whether you wanted more torque or speed.  Still have
a couple of Corvair engines, but they've been out in the "dry"
storage too long-- they are probably ruined from rain water getting
down in them.

Across the mantle, she left me a couple of the brass candle holders
given to us by my stepmother, who likes brass and thinks everyone
should have brass in their living room.  Guess it matches the brass
wood bucket to the left of the fireplace that holds the kindling.
Behind that bucket stands the Lancaster forge blower.  Makes a hell
of a racket, but it's easier to drag it out and turn the crank than
to bend over and huff and puff until you're blue in the face trying
to start a fire.  At least I think so.  Flanking the candle holders
are a couple of similar, but not mated beaten brass or copper
pitchers. One is filled with 30-30 shells; the other with both
wooden and metal wedges for the axe and hatchet handles.  Sometimes
I make wedges on the hearth in the winter.

On the end of the mantle towards the door, where the firewood is
stored inside during the cold months, is a Bowie knife and a Buck
General that she used to split kindling wood.  I use the hatched
below on the hearth, but she never trusted herself not to chop off a
vital part, and wanted something she could aim a little better,
before she discovered those two-bit wax impregnated bricks of saw
dust that she could buy for a buck.  

Behind the Lancaster, hanging from nails driven into the lapped
cedar wall, are branding irons.  The family iron, rocking P, 6T5,
and 7UP. Above them hang a set of skillets for cooking in the
fireplace.  Don't get much use, but they're slick skillets, easy to
clean when you don't have power for water.  In the pocket beside the
Lancaster sits the chili pot and the Dutch oven-- both cast iron. 
The chili pot is a trivit-supported kettle that can hang from one of
the pot hooks or sit over the coals on it's feet.  It needs a good
seasoning again.  Maybe this fall.  Also in that corner is a two
gallon crock filled with the bark shavings of a tooth ache tree. 
Drying-- I need to get some and grind them to send to Bev, who's
studying Chinese Medicine in Austin. Promised to do that last week,
and the shavings should be dry enough now. 


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