Wood that is too damp to burn and not kiln-dried. Left unprotected in the rain. A sad soggy story. I was cut, stacked, and left to dry some–let me see–six, maybe eight months ago? It was autumn, la meilleure saison, my favorite time of ze year. But alas, ze warm breezes of septembre subsided into the cutting winds of winter. Left uncovered and exposed to ze elements, my fellow logs and I endured night after bitter night of snow and ice. I longed to be dried in a warm kiln, to be brought inside and spared from the drenching rains and relentless hail, but it was not to be. When my entire cord was finally purchased in ze spring, we were soggy from bark to core. Poor miserables! It seems we’ll not be burned any time soon.