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Yesterday, 52 got a friend from work and Boomer to help finish putting together the pipe for the woodstove. Boomer was especially instrumental in the completion of the project.
There were a couple of ladders involved.
And straps and pulleys and…. I DON’T KNOW. I didn’t do any of this stuff. Tell me when it’s time for the simmering potpourri!
There was a cute little stack of firewood waiting.
And then (FINALLY!) this old woodstove strolled inside and said, “Hello, home.”
And I said, “HELLO, LOVER, get over here, where have you been all my life?!”
I’ve never had a woodstove before. I’ve had fireplaces, but not a woodstove. I love fireplaces, but there is something different and interesting and functional about a woodstove. I love how you can open and close the door to the fire. I love how there is a surface on top to place pots and kettles. I love how I’ve never had one before because I love to experience new things.
I love that it uses something freely given to me by the thick woods around me. I love how it will keep the house so warm this winter. I don’t like to be cold. I know what cold is.
One year (be sure you click on that link in the paragraph above) when we were living at the old farmhouse, it was zero degrees. Okay, did you read that right? I said, ZERO. In an old farmhouse with no insulation. And cracks. I used to wear my coat and gloves. INSIDE. And then the propane stove broke. My cousin’s son, Madison, came over one day when it was zero and the propane stove was broken (and the pipes were frozen) and I was at the end of my icy rope and, having stood in the frozen little farmhouse for about one minute, he said, “It’s not that cold in here.”
The amazing end of that story is that he’s still alive.
Let’s just say I have an appreciation for heat.
And YEAH BABY, heat is IN THE HOUSE!!!!
