Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. We’ve been busy with usual mid-winter fun. We finally received our logging truck filled with firewood in early January. Ten full cords of the lovely logs, which translate to 30 face cords. (I am only typing this out because someone always asks.) This equals two years worth of heat for our little house in the woods.
For the even more curious among you: a load of good hardwood costs about one thousand hard-earned bucks in these parts. We also own a backup propane furnace which steadfastly supplies additional heat when we’re tired of tossing split firewood in the wood stove. Or when we travel. Not that we have any immediate plans.
Should you imagine that our work is finished when the log truck driver scurries away–let me illuminate. We will spend hours upon hours, days upon days, months upon months chain sawing, splitting, hauling and stacking these lovely logs into handy-dandy firewood lengths during the spring and summer months.
The fun of living of the “pioneer life” in modern America!
Okay, I jest. A little bit anyway. Cutting, splitting and hauling firewood is better than a gym membership. It’s kinda fun. I do not mind this chore at age 64. I sometimes wonder how I will feel about it at age 74–or even 84–but that’s getting ahead of ourselves, isn’t it?
The day after our wonderful wood delivery snow fell from the sky and covered the pile with lots of the white stuff. By the time we took our final measurement–yep, official, it was 20 inches. We were so grateful that the logging truck’s delivery occurred the previous day.
Oh the beauty of snow!
Oh the challenges of snow!
Oh, the dismay of driving in it–the slipping, the sliding, the slush, the ice, the inability to see properly!
But before a person drives, one must dig out the cars from beneath 20 inches of beautiful heavy white snow. Then Barry drives our ancient Massey Harris tractor and plows our lengthy driveway, pushing snow hither and yon.
I admit to being a tad bit irritated while digging out the cars last snowstorm.
“How are we going to do this when we’re 80 years old?” I moaned, panting, to said husband.
He talked me off my snowy mental cliff by assuring we would take this one year at a time. In the meantime, he’s going to help dig out the cars during our next bout with mother nature’s white gifts. He’s always good at offering new solutions to make chores easier for us. He’s a good pioneer partner.
After we’ve dug out the cars and plowed the driveway we must rake the roof. We bought a snap-together roof rake a few years ago–when he didn’t want to climb atop the roof and shovel anymore–and this works miracles in removing the snow stuff. You place it up on the roof and slowly pull.
DOWN! comes wads of snow with a hearty thump, relieving the roof of hefty weight. He does about 75% of the work, but I add my raking prowess, too.
Besides firewood delivery, shoveling out cars, plowing and roof raking–what else has been happening?
Not much, dear reader. Hence the sudden silence. This is the time of year when my mind and body slowwwww way down. Sometimes it’s even impossible to blog.
But I did get my haircut last week. A VERY needed haircut! It’s shorter than usual, but I’m satisfied for now.
Thanks for catching up on our snowy world. How’s it going with you?