On our great waterfowl lease off the Wye River (MD) years ago we had 4-5 ancient Osage orange trees. As the decrepit branches would die and fall off, we set about them for firewood in the old house. They would bring visible sparks off a chain saw in broad daylight; trying to split sections with a mall would spin you around as the bit sank into the wood spiral grain, hard as a rock and super grainey. It burnt slowly and hot as a coal furnace. When we would make a fire with it, last man up to bed would rake the remaining pieces and coals to even out the bed then replace the screen. When we came down the next morning, the ash was almost as fine as sand.
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