As the sun began to dip, Elias sat on his porch, watching the last of the "scrap" leave the yard. He realized that the buyers formed a perfect circle of human need.
"Got any kiln-dried left?" Miller asked, tossing a heavy crate into his truck bed. who buys scrap wood
Elias pointed to a pile of untreated pine and maple offcuts. For Miller, scrap wood wasn't art; it was survival. It was the kindling that would start his woodstove on a sub-zero February morning. He bought the "shorts" by the truckload, paying a fraction of what cordwood cost because he was willing to do the labor of hauling the odd shapes. In the economy of the mountains, scrap was heat. As the sun began to dip, Elias sat
In the world of wood, there was no such thing as scrap. There was only wood that hadn't found its person yet. Elias pointed to a pile of untreated pine and maple offcuts