Remember my confession, that I love a cozy fire, sultry jazz on a cold night? Well, nestled in my new apartment, on the coldest night so far this autumn, I swallowed my inner climate activist and put a purportedly "eco" log in the fireplace.
7:20 pm - Stifled voices rising in my throat and questions poking me. What could be more wasteful? I pay money for dust from a ground up tree, mixed with (albeit recycled/renewable) wax; throw it in a cement cavity in the wall; put a match to it and watch. My money and the tree transform to soot. The smoke--laced with greenhouse gases, particles of airborne garbage, and hazardous pollutants--curls up the chimney and out to taint the beautiful, black sky.
7:25 pm - In my case, invisible wisps of the smoke also come into my living room, giving me an immediate headache. (Or is that from the climate activist guilt of indulging in a fire?)
7:30 pm - RRRRRAAAAAAAAAAAA. Fire alarm. It's not (just) guilt! I open a couple of windows, notice the log has not started burning too much, and decide to forfeit the whole venture. A glass of water poured ritualistically over the log, with a silent nod to the tree gods, puts it out. I spend the evening thus, cozy-ied up on the couch with Alain de Botton's, "Pleasures and Sorrows of Work." The log merely sits, charred and silent, with out another flap of its orange tongue (or puff of carbon emission) for the remainder of the evening. Instead, a few candles make a mediocre substitute for the missing ambiance.
11:30 pm - Candles blown out, teeth brushed, I hit the sack.
(DREAMY PAUSE...)
4:30 am - Abruptly, my partner and I are delivered instantaneously out of our respective dreams by screeching fire alarms and onto our feet. I throw open the door. (Did I think to feel it first? No! So much for grade-school fire safety training.) Smoke so thick I can not see across the living room. We are in a flurry of cursing; scrambling for cell phones, shoes and clothes; holding our breath to run across the living room and open windows. We make for the door running as I'm dialing 911.
5:30 am - The two fire trucks and heroic fire fighters are gone, having transferred an (apparently smoldering for hours) eco log to a stainless bowl full of water out on the balcony, and aired out all the smoke. Johnnie and I sit dazed on the sofa in the lobby.
The coming days will include: carpet and upholstery shampooing ($300), wall and surface scrubbing ($150), air fresheners and cleaning products (each with its own unique combination of toxic and nontoxic ingredients); headaches, sore throats, achy lungs and stinging eyes; immense gratitude for the fire alarms that probably saved our lives; new-found appreciation for firefighters and the gift they give our communities; a smokey scent that will not leave our bodies, books, walls nor the insides of our noses; and a lingering question.
If five minutes and the corner of an eco log can do this much damage, what does all the world's wood burning do?
Levine, Cofer, Cahoon and Winstead, in Biomass Burning: A driver for global change, estimate that 1,430 Tg of wood fuel are burned yearly. After some searching about on the Web I learned that Tg means teragram. Using a handy conversion tool, I learned that the relatively benign sounding (at least to the untrained ear) 1,430 Tg is equivalent to 3,152,610,349,000 pounds of wood fuel burned annually in the world.
So, as I was saying:
If five minutes and the corner of an eco log can do this much damage, what does burning three trillion pounds of wood per year do? (How many cords of wood would that be?!)
Reading more about biomass (living and non-living vegetable matter) burning, I learn that 45% of those 3 trillion pounds are made up of carbon. When burned, the carbon releases carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, methane, and nonmethane hydrocarbons-and particulate or elemental carbon.
Therefore:
If five minutes and the corner of an eco log can do this much damage, what does burning three trillion pounds of wood per year do?
I'll tell you: It releases 1,410,958,478,000 pounds of carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, methane, and nonmethane hydrocarbons-and particulate or elemental carbon.
I want to have a fire in the hearth, for a cozy evening. But, I'm haunted by the trillion and a heal tons of carbon dioxide, carbon monoxide, methane, and nonmethane hydrocarbons-and particulate or elemental carbon. I want to have a fire in the hearth for a cozy evening, but this knowledge kinda ruins the mood anyway.