Cold Crossings
Dang it's cold. The thermometer I keep on my desk says it is 60 degrees in here this morning, only six or seven feet from the woodstove where only a few pitiful coals remain from last night's eight o'clock feeding. The keyboard and genuine simulated wood surface of my desk, the arms of my chair-- feel like they just came in from a night in the barn.
We've had a string of below freezing days and single digit nights; the west winds have found their way in eddies even into our sheltered valley. The mass of the house doesn't retain much heat on mornings this cold. So I'm sitting here wrapped in an afghan (or as we called them as kids, an african) over my legs and I'm wearing clothes suitable for a winter outting.
I'm not complaining, mind you. (Well, maybe a little.) It was colder last year before we put the carpet down over the worst of our wood floors. When we lived in our very first house, it was often in the low fifties in some "heated" parts of the house, and we kept our outdoor coats on when we came inside. I learned a lot about heat tapes and plumbers that first year.
And going back farther in the history of cold, can you imagine what it must be to sleep on the frozen ground on a night like the ones we're having now, with nothing but a wool blanket? Or wake up in a stone castle with twenty foot ceilings and a meager fire from a heat-sucking fireplace?
It's plain that the human body can tolerate a lot more discomfort than we're accustomed to in our soft lifestyles and 70 degree thermostats, give or take one or two degrees only, please. I'm thankful that this old place is as snug as it is, and it's a comfort to look out at ample firewood that will easily get us through another couple of months of cold. But it's time to start thinking about next winter's cold mornings, and getting more wood stacked and drying under cover.
Seems all I do these cold days is feed wood and clean ashes. The woodpile disappears by the cartload every day, and I am not able to add back to it with temps this cold. I have a good bit I could bring over to the house from across the creek-- except, as you see looking at my creek crossing (that stays in shadow all winter)-- getting over the creek and back might make for more adventure than I'm up for.
Okay. I've suffered enough. Time to kick on the 30,000 BTU radiant gas fired wall heater in the other room, stand back-end to it with a cup of hot coffee, and think warm thoughts while this danged keyboard defrosts. I'll be back directly.
Comments
> A coal burner? First I learn that you backhand birds. Now this. So tough to find heroes these days...
;-)
Posted by: Trey | January 21, 2004 8:16 AM
Wow, what a big dog! and oh yeah, nice picture, too . . . .
Posted by: Doc Rock | January 21, 2004 9:26 AM
Brrrr! It is way cold down&up this way too. I had to snuggle even closer to my husband last night as we took shelter under our down comforter. Our bedroom is currently unheated, but is on the top floor of the house. The thermometer outside read 6 degrees.
Posted by: Marie | January 21, 2004 9:28 AM
Fred, instead of cutting every fallen tree up into firewood, you need to save a long one to drag across that rivulet to provide you (teetering) access to the other side. I can picture you with arms a flailing going over--it's the coming back with the wood that I'm having trouble seeing. LOL
Posted by: Cop Car | January 22, 2004 8:07 AM