My dad ran a jotul in the basement for much of my childhood. Used a maul to split the wood. He hasn't worked a stove in 25 years. He spend a couple of nights here early in the month. First he started poking around at my fire. Then he started loading the stove. Next thing I know he's out with the fiskars "cutting you some kindling." Dad, I have plenty of kindling. Next he wants to take a trip up to the sawmill to load the truck with some slab wood. Dad, you're only in town for one day. We're going to hike the waterfall, drive the parkway, and have lunch in town. Then he's down at the hardware store buying saw oil. He's just going to "play with the saw" and get it oiled, etc. All of a sudden the saw is cranked and he's working his way through the pile of hemlock. Dad those can wait. I talked to him once he was home and asked him if he told my stepmother about cutting and splitting. "nope, and don't you tell her either."