Wood banks — which provide firewood to people in need at no charge — have officially existed in Maine for almost two decades. They're increasing in number, due in part to the rising cost of living, and cuts to government support programs. Maine Public recently visited one of the bigger, newer operations on the Blue Hill Peninsula.
It’s barely 8:30 on a mild Saturday morning in November, and the Downeast Wood Bank in Surry is a hive of activity.
"We have two splitters going, about 15-20 volunteers it looks like, here to work 3-4 hours and get some wood split up and ready to go and help our neighbors stay warm this winter," Tom Matthews said.
72-year-old Tom Matthews helps run the all-volunteer, non-profit wood bank, established four years ago on a Blue Hill Heritage Trust property.
It serves seven towns on or near the peninsula, including Ellsworth, with 75 cords of seasoned firewood for distribution this winter, free of charge, a half cord at a time — to anyone in need.
"We've helped so many families with situations like - we had a call one week a couple years ago where the lady was burning her shed. She was taking planks off her shed to stay warm. And that kind of thing happens. It happens more than we’d like to realize or admit," Matthews said. "And that’s why we were founded, and that’s why we continue to try to help people out. Just like a food pantry. You need food sometimes and you don’t have it, you need heat sometimes and you don't have it."
Wood banks aren't a new idea. University of Maine forestry professor Jessica Leahy has been studying wood banks for more than a decade. And she says though the first official one in Maine was established in Cumberland in 2007, Mainers have been sharing firewood with their neighbors for a long time.
"Older foresters have told me that going back at least 60 years, part of their job duties would include providing firewood for churches that would give away wood, or splitting wood for these churches and religious organizations," Leahy said.
Long after the emergence of coal and oil, many Mainers still rely on wood for heat. About 10% of Maine households burn wood as their primary source of heat today, and about half use some wood to stay warm.
Leahy says most of the larger, more formalized wood banks are in coastal communities, where there are often more human and financial resources to start and operate them. But according to her research, the biggest need is further inland.
"The area that I would point out in the state where both I get the most inquiries, and where our data shows lots of people heating with wood, lots of economic stress, and the great potential next to firewood resources, is in Central Maine," Leahy said. "Sort of the stretch from Newport, Dexter all the way up to the Monson area."
Leahy says the official number of wood banks in Maine has grown to more than a dozen, thanks in part to $8 million in federal funding from the 2021 Infrastructure Act, which has been distributed via grants through a national nonprofit called Alliance for Green Heat. That number doesn’t include all of the informal projects, church-based “wood ministries," or all of the wood banks that are in the works, however.
Leahy is quick to point out that like food pantries, wood banks help people meet an immediate need, but they don’t tackle the underlying structural inequalities that make it so hard for so many people to afford a basic quality of life.
But, she adds, in addition to the emergency heating assistance they offer, wood banks also have a way of bringing communities together and providing some relief from loneliness and social isolation.
"There is the hanging out. And the social capital that gets built among the volunteers is as valuable as the recipients coming and getting wood," Leahy said.
At the Downeast Wood Bank, the line between recipient and volunteer is often blurry. Ten clients are scheduled to pick up wood today. One of them is Heather May, who rolls up in a vintage Ford pickup that she's nicknamed "Big Booty Bethany."
May, who runs a small livestock farm in Ellsworth, is grabbing a load of firewood for her household, and one for some older folks that she says are on disability.
"I’m also disabled; I have two blown out knees. But I also have a truck," May said. "So when I come pick up, I also deliver for other people that are less fortunate as well."
May and other recipients say they've been frustrated by the bureaucracy surrounding LIHEAP — that's the federal program that subsidizes heating fuel, including wood.
With a cord of dry firewood costing around $300 these days, May said she tries to make the ½ a cord she gets each month from the wood bank stretch. But not forever.
"We were recently fortunate enough to acquire our own wood splitter, so we’re hoping to start cutting our own wood, and slowly ween off of the wood bank," May said. "And that’s always the goal, to ween off of the resources, and also start contributing."
Volunteer Tom Matthews predicts the nonprofit will have no trouble distributing their stockpile of firewood this season. The real question is: how long will their limited supply last?
"If we’re getting 10 today and it’s 55 degrees, when it’s 15 degrees how many are we going to have calling? I think those numbers will continue to grow as the need remains," Matthews said.
Matthews and the other industrious volunteers, however, are already preparing for next winter. Their new goal is to increase their distribution from 75 to 90 cord, so they can help even more families. They're already halfway there.
