thankful thursday

this evening

I am so thankful that the forester I once had the great good fortune to work with, still, many years later, keeps me on his list for an annual stovewood delivery.

He's doing me a favor - my little Waterford stove only takes 

short wood, and when he loads up his big truck with shorts and offcuts, it means a lot of extra handling. So when I get a call saying "the truck is loaded, is this a good time?" yes, it is. And watching as that wood rolls like thunder off the back of the truck feels like my birthday, every time.

The hard part is paying for the wood. I can't judge the cordage at all, because of the size of the pieces. He can probably judge the cordage quite accurately, but never does. So every year, I say, "Now what do I owe you?" And he says, "Oh, I don't know," and then names a price. And then I say, "That's not enough," and give him some cash. And then he says, "That's too much," and gives some back.

And then I start stacking the wood under cover. And all winter long, the woodbox by the stove is filled and emptied, filled and emptied.

And I am warmed not just by the fire, but by gratitude.

~~~~~

up in smoke

Several small projects were part of the Construction Extravaganza right from the start, and others developed as part of the process. Here is one of the first category: the chimney.

This chimney was added to the house in 1939, if I remember correctly. (The date was recorded in concrete at the base of the chimney in the cellar. It's 8F right now. I'm not going into the cellar to check.)

13 Oct 2017: southeast corner

When I bought the house, the chimney was venting both a propane space heater in the parlor and a massive old propane kitchen range of which I think two burners were functional. I might have tried to have that range repaired, but the amount of space it occupied it this tiny house was hard to justify. Instead I decided to remove it and do without a stove until I could design a little kitchen and put in a wall oven. Looking back, if I had known that I'd be cooking in a toaster oven for a couple of decades before I could make the kitchen happen, I might have made a different decision! But it all worked out.

18 Oct: northwest corner.
Flashing and loose bricks removed.

When I was working in one of my first forest-related jobs, I bought my little woodstove: a Waterford, from Ireland. Friends from work helped move it into my parlor, and that was a learning experience for me: I learned that there are some tasks one should not allow friends to tackle, period. It was a good lesson.

19 Oct: chimney tile extended; spark arrestor standing by.

I almost changed my mind before buying the Waterford, because I was told I would have to put a liner in the chimney. But when I clambered up on the roof, I found that the chimney was lined with tile but for some reason the top tile was lower than the crown. So I put "add one tile to chimney" on my List. That was in the early 90s.

You've got to love a carpenter who has built chimneys.

Apart from cleaning the chimney every year that I burned wood, I did no other maintenance. The last few times I was perched on the roof performing acrobatic stunts with the comically wobbly chimney brush, I noticed mortar beginning to crack between a couple of bricks on the top row. So of course I added "clean and remortar loose bricks" to my List.

19 Oct: most of the work done

And last year I bought a nearly-new spark arrestor cap for $20 at a tag sale held by the local Animal Control facility. A very useful improvement, but it wasn't even ON my List, darn it!

26 Oct: work stopped by days of torrential rain.

When I knew I would have to reroof the house, the chimney tasks - tile, mortar, cap - were naturally included in that project. The repair and improvement was done before the metal roofing went on, and then the carpenter constructed a custom flashing for it, using the roofing material.

27 Oct: a wonder that rain left any leaves on the trees!

The chimney had a long rest in November, waiting for me to dismantle and clean the stovepipe in the parlor - always a dirty, back-aching, mess-making chore. This year I also had two helpers who would have been happy to track soot all through the house on their eight little feet. And I did it on my birthday - don't tell me I don't know how to have a good time! Or age gracefully!

Early the next morning I lit the fire.

Here is the first smoke rising through the "new" chimney:  

There hasn't been snow on that chimney since.

And there probably won't be til Spring.

Since I didn't burn wood last Winter (in the interest of keeping those eight little feet safe), I have a wonderful stockpile of seasoned stovewood this year. Some from my own property, a bit left over from the 2015 delivery, and this gorgeous truckload delivered last December by my Best Forester Friend:

Flashback: 2 December 2016

 I wish you could hear the sound of the wood tumbling!

It's like the happiest thunder in the world.

I always try to stay a full year ahead with stovewood, but don't always manage it. As this Winter approached, I felt quite comfortable if not actually smug. I'm expecting to burn a LOT of wood this year.

And I have a lot of wood to burn.

I'm rich! Rich, I tell you!

As cold as it's been already this year - minus 4F this morning and up to a rollicking 8F at noon - the stove has been kept well fed. I wonder how much of my massive stockpile will be left when Spring rolls around?

~~~~~

firsts

First fire of the season.

It's been in the low 30s (F) all day today, but more than that, it's been blowing up a gale since last night and I'm hoping very much that no trees come down in a difficult place. Seemed like a good day for a fire in the woodstove. Piper agreed. She is almost asleep standing up in this picture.

~~~

My big task for this weekend:

a total clearing-out of the screenporch.

Made big progress on Friday, but dropped the ball yesterday

when it was raining and raw all day.

And today, well.

This nice fire can't watch itself burning, now can it?

Erm, maybe I'll get out there in a little while.

~~~

But not yet, because I have another "first" to share!

Years ago, an online yarn order arrived with a "bonus" hank of what I think falls under the heading of "art yarn." It's got alternating sections of tightly-spun single ply and completely unspun fiber. Like this:

Aren't the colors lovely?

I saved it for a planned venture into needle felting.

Someday.

At the Vermont fiber festival, one little gift I bought myself was a set of three felting needles. These are little L-shaped needles with a roughness that helps "felt" the fibers together. Do you know about felting? It's what happens when friction or temperature (or both) causes the scales on animal hairs to  grab onto each other and pull the fibers tightly together. Forever. Have you ever accidentally shrunk a woolen sweater? That's felting. (Some would argue that shrinking a woolen fabric is more accurately called "fulling," and I would not disagree, because life is short.)

The other day I decided to break out the new needles and try making a felt button.

I cut some of the unspun sections and gently pulled them apart a bit more:

And then I shaped them into a soft lump of wool, put the lump on a thick piece of packing material, and started stabbity-stabbing away. And soon it began to look like a button:

I've made four buttons now, trying different things each time:

different size, shape, thickness, blend of colors.

Here's the most recent, with the needle:

I've already managed to break one of the needles!

Good thing there were three in the set.

After years of thinking about it, the incentive to try needle felting right now is that one of my WIPCrackAway projects, a neckwarmer, requires two buttons. None in my button tin seemed right. And I have not found any for sale that were 1) right for the project, 2) of reasonable price, and 3) made in Not China.

I thought of trying to make buttons with wood (of course), but there has been so much rain lately, the branches in the brush pile are soaked through. So I'm playing around with making felt buttons instead.

All the time I thought about needle felting, I never planned to make a utilitarian object. I imagined little figures of animals or plants, or landscapes "painted" with fiber. And maybe that will come. But for now, I'm having a lot of fun making simple fuzzy buttons.

And if I make one that seems "just right" for the neckwarmer, then I will try to make another for a set.

No hurry, though...

It's really good fun.

~~~~~