In the early morning light, Colleen Quint hits play on her Charley Crockett playlist, pulls on her yellow work gloves and begins lugging firewood into her barn.

Bird chirps mingle with twangy guitar riffs as the 61-year-old Minot resident places logs into a tidy, deliberate stack.

For Quint — and many Mainers like her — stacking firewood is more than just a chore. It’s a seasonal ritual, a source of pride and a meditative craft. This centuries-old practice, once essential for surviving Maine’s long winters, remains a deeply rooted tradition across the state.

STACKING TO THE BEAT

Last year, Quint created a playlist dedicated entirely to stacking wood. All songs by country singer Charley Crockett, the playlist is an hour long, strategically curated to guide the pace of her wood stacking.

“Charley Crockett is just the groove I want when I’m stacking wood,” Quint said.

Firewood needs to be seasoned, or dried, for several months before it can be burned in a wood stove. In the spring and early summer, wood has to be removed from the ground and stacked in a way that air flow can help dry the wood before the winter season.

A cord of firewood is a 4 x 4 x 8 foot pile, which typically holds from 600 to 800 pieces of wood. Quint will get two cords of wood delivered at a time, which takes between six and seven hours to stack. She stacks the wood in neat piles in her barn, with cross-hatched pieces on the sides to keep it in place. She describes it as a mix of playing Jenga and Tetris.

Quint starts off her stacking with the lively beat of the song “Lonesome Drifter,” briskly pulling logs from the large pile in her driveway. Eventually, the songs slow down as Quint stacks the logs at a gentler pace to wrap up.

She said she likes to think that Crockett – whom she is going to see at Thompson’s Point in August – would be proud to know his music is the soundtrack to such a task.

“It is a really lovely way to start the day,” Quint said. “When I get into a nice rhythm with it – and the music totally helps with that – I’m in a really good mindset and groove about everything.”

BEAUTIFUL AND FUNCTIONAL 

In Portland, Ayumi Horie approaches wood stacking with a similar reverence.

A ceramic artist, Horie first became intrigued by the aesthetics of firewood through the work of her wood-firing fellow artists.

“I started thinking about how, with a little bit more effort, anyone could make a wood pile that was functional in multiple different ways,” she said. “It could serve as a hedge, a playhouse for kids or an outdoor sculpture for snow.”

Horie was so intrigued by the craft that she began a Facebook page and even started drafting a book about wood stacking.

Her favorite design is a small shed-style stack with a tiny door. Although, she said, “it basically becomes a rodent and spider condominium.”

For Horie, the pleasure comes from mastering the details. “There’s something fundamentally satisfying about becoming skilled at anything,” she said. “It’s a meaningful challenge.”

Her tips include stacking on pallets, keeping piles away from the house and in direct sun and using metal roofing instead of tarps.

“Traveling around Maine, I always feel a little pop of joy when I see someone who has taken the time to do a beautiful stack,” Horie said.

THE RISE OF THE HOLZ HAUSEN

Drive around the state in early summer and you may notice unusual dome-like wood piles rising from yards — miniature huts built entirely of firewood.

Known as the holz hausen or beehive method, this European stacking strategy is gaining popularity in the Pine Tree State.

Hans Gunderson and Lisa Mainella, of Cape Elizabeth, switched to the method in 2020.

“It’s both practical and beautiful,” Gunderson said. The round shape helps with airflow, and the sloped roof sheds water and snow with ease. “There’s an ease of construction,” he said. “It looks nice, and it really works.”

The pair gather wood from storm-felled trees, roadside piles and even scrap construction materials.

“I’m much more about getting the job done than making it perfect,” Gunderson said.

In Portland’s Back Cove, Angela and Kevin DePaola also use the beehive method – though for them, part of the appeal is the attention it draws.

“It’s definitely a flex,” Angela DePaola said. “Neighbors stop and ask about it all the time.”

A FIERY DEBATE

As with any well-loved tradition, wood stacking invites strong opinions.

“It’s a topic of hot debate,” said Jeff Norris, another Back Cove resident, “even among people who’ve been doing it for generations.”

From the direction logs should face (bark up or bark down?) to the optimal shape for drying, stacking philosophies vary wildly. Norris said some believe the wood should be stacked on end to mimic the vertical structure of a tree, in order to correctly drain the capillaries. Others swear by horizontal stacking.

Everyone agrees that one of the main challenges of stacking wood is maintaining stability, Norris said. As wood dries, it shrinks, changing the balance of whatever structure it is in. To mitigate this risk, people will stack their wood in custom racks, between two trees or cross-hatch the end pieces to add support.

Norris recalls seeing towering stacks in Dover-Foxcroft that held up to 20 cords.

These days, he builds his own piles in a small shed with help from local kids. It’s a way to pass down what he calls “the religion” of wood stacking.

To Norris, stacking wood is a blend of engineering and art.

“It’s great because it’s architecture and it’s an aesthetic,” Norris said. “Everybody who is into it, when they’re around town, they’re looking – jealously or judgmentally – at other people’s wood piles.”