Building Update: 4 Walls and a Stove

The Vogelzang from Catherine

I sit by the wood stove and read, at temperatures during which I usually  leave Whisperwood, journey to town in my heated car to huddle in public cafes and the library, where people seem to know why I'm there.  There are no windows in this new dwelling of mine, and blankets sewn together provide the only door, yet I am so grateful to stay.  I am so thankful to Catherine for the gift of the stove, and — My! What a gift it is!  No matter how many people exclaim "what a mild winter we've had!" it doesn't feel mild when living in a tent.

The dwelling emerging.

The walls of my dwelling are temporary, only plywood to keep out the wind and rain — most of it, anyway.  There are leaky spots through the tar-papered roof, and stepping three feet from the stove I am cold again.  But no longer will I need to sequester a bottle of water with me overnight in my sleeping bag in order to have something to drink in the morning!  Now I can set the water by the stove, and my cooking oil, too, so they will not solidify.  I thought I'd need to drive to town today for more propane, but no, I can stay, read by the fire, which is cooking my food.  And I can eat by the stove, too, instead of chattering outside in the cold.  These are some of the new-found delights of the stove, and the bone-warming heat of wood, heat that thaws me to the core.

I have to admit the cold got to me for awhile, before the stove was complete.  Being cold can curdle the gayest day into a heavy chore.  It took much longer to acquire the many requisite parts for the stove piping than I imagined, and all the while winter raged.  Many friends have offered their homes to me, and on occasion I accept, only to quickly feel a need to return to Whisperwood and space of my own.  I can't explain that.  It's just the way I am and need to be, right now anyway.

Heartfelt thanks to Catherine for the gift of the Vogelzang Boxwood stove, a stove that heats like no other, and to Bishop for the temporary walls and for installing the stove.

I continue to sleep in my tent.  My new dwelling is yet too much of a construction zone for a bed at this time, and I am always warm at night in my sleeping bag.  But first thing in the morning I can rush the thirty feet to my new dwelling, light the fire, and feel its warmth permeate my bones.

Of course, having a wood stove means chopping wood!  I'd chopped wood as a teenager but feared I'd forgotten how after decades of sedentary desk jobs.  I wasn't sure that I could still accomplish such a feat, yet I am proud to report I've done swell! My upper body strength certainly isn't what it used to be, but that doesn't seem to matter.  Splitting wood appears more a matter of carefulness and aim — both of which I have in ample supply — and a good, sharp splitting ax.  A sledge hammer is a big help, too.  I'm not sure if these are the conventional combination of tools to use, but they worked for me!  Within an hour I had enough wood to last several days.  And, yes, I am bragging!  I think any woman who splits her own wood has something to brag about!  Now the hickory, oak, and locust trees that either died from drought or had to be cleared for the solar panel and garden are providing free fuel, bone-warming heat, and rest from trips into town.

Thank you trees, thank you stove, and thank you friends for helping me through this winter!