Craigslist Fair or Fiend: Buried in Wood (Part 2)

As with anything in life you have to take both the good and the bad.

The unfavorable experience I had when buying the chainsaw (see part 1) did not wholly put me off from using craigslist. Instead it instilled in me a grain of caution.

It was some time later after coming out here to start this new life, when I was browsing through the free section looking for anything that could be of use on the farmstead. We hadn't and still don't have the means to purchase what we need readily.

I stumbled across a post for free scrap wood.

The photo was vague, showing a couple of pallets and a scattering of miscellaneous wood scraps. However, it was within a five minute drive so I went to check it out. It was your run of the mill town house nestled adjacent to a large corn field, strewn liberally with wind chimes and prayer flags.

At the end of the driveway was my prize:

A huge pile of scrap wood and pallets many times larger than pictured in the ad. I was a little daunted, but still determined, already forming plans in my head of what uses to put it to.

I was a little uncertain. There were cars in the driveway and voices could be heard from the house. I milled around for a minute or two waiting on someone to come out. When they didn't, I began to load up, feeling lucky indeed!

The truck was full and, strapping it all down, I looked back. The pile was hardly diminished.

'I have struck farmstead gold!' I thought, when the door to the house opened and a man came out. We exchanged pleasantries, me telling him about our micro-farm and him telling me about his construction company, specializing in fencing and porches, and how he is always bringing wood home. I politely asked him if he would let me know when he had more, thinking it would surely be a month at least.

I received a call just a week later...

The first trip took three truck loads and this second one was four. Two weeks after that was another four. That's when my wife finally put her foot down. The pile was chest high, fifteen feet across, and thirty feet long. Despite my best efforts to use it as fast as possible.

I had gone lumber mad! As if a fever was laid upon me, the fact that there was hardly room enough in the driveway to park seemed no more than a minor inconvenience. A sacrifice to the greater good. 'There is still room,' I thought. 'Behind the house, across the creek!'

'We could stack it into tall pyramids to which we could sit aloft and laugh at passers by as King and Queen on thrones of Pine, Poplar and Oak!'

But as her argument was sound, and upon sober assessment of the situation, I reluctantly agreed with my wife. It was getting out of hand. But I didn't see lumber.. I saw money. Not to make, but to save. I felt rich. Rich on material.

I was making steps, building chicken coops, raising fences, siding the workshop, and much more.

I let him know how much I appreciated his generosity and the possibilities it had opened for us here on the homestead, but that I had taken all I could for some time to come.

Now, a year later, not only do I still have lumber enough for a few more projects, but I also know who to call when it's gone.
You just never know who or what you're going to get.

-'The Digger'