There’s a specific kind of exhaustion that comes from twelve miles on a Sector 8 ridge-line, and Boone “Dusty” Maddox captures it perfectly in the opening chords of “Stand-Up Stove.” This track is a tribute to the “Swedish Torch” or the vertical log fire—a bit of “know-how” that turns a single piece of timber into a kitchen and a furnace all at once.
The Hearth on the Hill
While the Atomic Sisters might sing about the glow of a fusion cap, Boone finds his warmth in the heartwood. The “Stand-Up Stove” is the ultimate woodsman’s secret: a single dry log, quartered or bored down the center, burning from the inside out. As Boone’s deep baritone rumbles over a steady, walking-pace stomp, he explains the beauty of it—no chasing embers, no feeding a hungry bonfire, just a flat top for a metal pan and a steady glow that lets you “let it breathe free.”
Lessons from Forty-Four
The second verse brings us back to Boone’s roots, citing his granddad’s wisdom from 1944. It’s a recurring theme in the Maddox catalog: the “Old World” isn’t a museum; it’s a toolbox. The advice to not “burn down the woods to cook up your beans” is a masterclass in tactical survival. In a world where staying hidden can be just as important as staying warm, a self-contained log stove is a friend indeed.
By the time the song fades out into the sound of a bubbling tin cup of tea, you can almost feel the weight lifting off those heavy boots.
STAND-UP STOVE
by: Boone “Dusty” Maddox
I walked twelve miles of the ridge-line trail
With the sun fadin’ out like a ghost on the gale
My boots were heavy and my spirit was thin
Lookin’ for a place where the comfort begins
I didn’t want a bonfire to light up the night
I didn’t need a beacon of flicker and light
I just found a cedar, stood tall as a man
And I carved out a little bit of peace in my hand
She’s my stand-up stove, she’s my hearth on the hill
While the rest of the mountain is quiet and still
Burnin’ from the heartwood, cozy and deep
A promise that a woodsman is aimin’ to keep
Just a single dry log and a tin cup of tea
Is all of the world that is needed by me
I remember my granddad, back in forty-four
He’d sit in the shade by the smokehouse door
He said, “Son, you don’t need to burn down the woods
To cook up your beans and to keep what is good
Just find you the center and let it breathe free
The fire’s a friend, not an enemy”
So I sat by that log while the stars started peekin’
And listened to the song that the timber was speakin’
The top stayed flat for my old metal pan
The easiest supper for a wanderin’ man
No chasin’ the embers, no feedin’ the flame
Just a steady old glow that didn’t need a name
A bit of the “know-how” goes a long, long way.
She’s my stand-up stove, she’s my hearth on the hill
While the rest of the mountain is quiet and still
Burnin’ from the heartwood, cozy and deep
A promise that a woodsman is aimin’ to keep
Just a single dry log and a tin cup of tea
Is all of the world that is needed by me